Her Return, His Regret

***

~~Delilah~~

***

It's my birthday today but my mind's askew.

My phone dings. I reach for it.

It's a text from Megan.

I sigh.

“He's not home yet, is he?”

“Not yet,”

“You should go to bed, Lilah. He's a grown ass man,”

“I can't,”

I put my phone down and stare at the cake on the table, it looks even as tired as I am.

I keep checking my phone for Soren’s calls or texts.

But nothing.

I shut my eyes…he didn't forget, did he?

I know the answer, but it hurts to admit it. He left home early this morning, ditching breakfast like he always does.

And somehow I thought…maybe he has plans for us.

A surprise maybe.

But the joke's on me. It's 8PM, my husband isn't home, and he's not taking my calls either.

I tell myself it's nothing, that he is safe, it could be a meeting that ran late, a deadline he had to meet.

Soren isn't always like this, he wasn't the most affectionate man but he was kind, he didn't make me wait.

At least for a year and half after we got married.

It's been three years and I can't say the same now.

A marriage of convenience, a secret to the outside world, to Soren. It was more than that for me.

One unforgettable night, a near death encounter and he left, taking my heart with him.

He doesn't know.

I can't mention it.

He wouldn't even care. Because to Soren, rules are never meant to be broken.

Marry me and give me an heir.

A deal sealed in misery.

I sold my body and soul in exchange for my mother's debt.

But what surprises me is that we've been trying for three years and not once did I miscarry.

Doctors said to give it time, that it'd come.

It never did.

I got tired of hoping, crying myself to sleep.

And Soren?

He didn't throw me out. Not after one year, not the next year.

He said it was okay.

And I believed him, told myself that we've gotten more closer.

And we did.

He became different, sweeter. And God help me he actually does smile.

It felt that way until three months ago.

He started skipping meals, sleeps out, stopped taking my calls and doesn't even bother to return them.

And when I ask, he throws it back to my face like I'm the damn problem. “I had work, Delilah. Stop being difficult,”

And even now, I still tell myself that.

He's at work, Lilah. Be patient.

Just then, I hear a car pull into the driveway.

I push to my feet, the ache in my chest dulls as I walk to the door, ready to welcome my husband home.

With a big smile on my face, I pull the door open.

I blink, more than twice.

He's not alone and that stops me cold.

With him is a woman who I'd recognize even with a blindfold.

Ashley Garcia.

My highschool bully, and the woman who left Soren at the alter. His first love.

She's back.

My heart lurches.

Different thoughts slams into me all at once. Why did she come back?

Why the fuck would Soren let her back in after what she did?

And why's she here— at our house?!

But above all, fear coils tight in my chest.

Scared that Soren is still stuck up on her.

I know Ashley. I know that smug look all too well. I know this woman who dunked all my textbooks in water, locked me up in the toilet and almost made me lose my scholarship.

Soren's eyes are on me, begging for me to be calm.

Of course I'm the perfect wife, the one who should understand and die in silence.

I shift to let them in.

I fold my arms, voice tight. “Why's she here?” I ask.

He doesn't reply at first, just carefully guides Ashley to the couch.

I watch them, heart plummetting.

There's something in the way he holds her— too familiar, too practiced.

And Ashley?

Her hand is resting on her belly, a smug smile flickering across her face whenever Soren's not looking.

“Soren,” I press, “What's going on?”

Silence.

A lump lunges itself in my throat. I swallow.

Ashley settles in fine, that's when he shifts his attention to me.

He exhales through his nose. His whole expression goes blank, as if remembering where he is.

There's hesitation— maybe a faint flicker of guilt.

“Have a seat, Delilah.” he says, his voice low, like the words taste sour.

My eyes darts from him to Ashley, then back to him.

My chest feels tight, my thoughts are over the place, but I move toward the couch.

I sit, holding my breath, fighting to stay steady.

I don't say a word— I don't need to. My eyes screams, ‘start talking,”

He sighs. “Umm,” he says slowly. “I know this will be hard but promise you're not going to freak out until I explain,”

My brows lift. “Explain what?” I demand. “Why's she here?”

He holds my gaze, tension radiating off him in waves and then he says it, reaching to hold Ashley's hand.

“Well…Ashley is pregnant— And it's mine,”