Regret Is Just The Beginning

“Henry Golding and Selena, my husband and daughter, my whole world.”

Diana Robinson said the words softly, like a prayer she had repeated so many times that it had become part of her breathing. She stood at the entrance of the mansion, her back straight despite the weight of the two filled shopping bags hanging from each hand.

Her lips curved into a full, satisfied smile.

It was the kind of smile that came from certainty, from believing that love, once built with patience and sacrifice, would always stand firm.

“I grabbed all this stuff to whip up a special dinner for our wedding anniversary,” she murmured to herself, pride warming her chest.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Earlier that evening, the living room had been alive with quiet excitement. Selena, their eight-year-old daughter, sat cross-legged on the rug, surrounded by bits of coloured paper, beads, glue, and ribbon.

Her brows were drawn together in concentration as she worked carefully with her small fingers. Henry sat beside her on the couch, his sleeves rolled up, watching her with a faint smile.

“Daddy,” Selena asked suddenly, her eyes bright as she held up the half-finished piece, “will she like my present?”

Henry glanced at it, then back at his daughter. “She’ll love anything you make her,” he said calmly.

Selena giggled, reassured, and bent her head back to her work, humming under her breath.

The doorbell rang.

Henry checked his watch. “It’s almost time,” he said. “Let’s go get the cake.”

Selena jumped to her feet immediately, excitement spilling over her as she rushed ahead. Henry followed her towards the front door.

Unknown to them, Diana had entered through the side entrance, careful not to make noise. The moment she stepped into the living room, her eyes were drawn to the couch. Gift bags were arranged neatly there, ribbons fluffed and shining under the light.

Her breath caught. Then she saw it—the white, gleaming head ring placed carefully among the gifts.

Her heart skipped.

She dropped the grocery bags without caring where they landed. “They remembered,” she whispered, joy rushing through her veins.

Her gaze shifted again, this time to the centre table. There, resting inside a small open box, was a delicate handmade brooch. It wasn’t perfect. The edges were slightly uneven, the colours not professionally balanced.

But to Diana, it was the most beautiful thing she had seen all day.

She bent slowly and picked it up, holding it as though it were something fragile and sacred.

“This must be my anniversary gift from Selena,” she said, her voice trembling with happiness.

She lifted it towards her wrist, ready to slide it on.

“Mommy?”

The small voice stopped her mid-motion.

Diana turned quickly. Selena stood there, holding the cake box carefully with both hands. Henry was beside her.

“Hey, baby,” Diana said, her excitement doubling. She smiled so wide it almost hurt.

She turned back to the grocery bags and began to rummage through one. “Henry, I got you your favourite lobster,” she said brightly, pulling out the pack, “and I got Lena her favourite apple pie.”

She looked from her husband to her daughter, her eyes glowing with anticipation. “I’m going to make a feast for our anniversary.”

There was a brief silence.

Then Selena frowned.

“Mommy, why are you wearing the brooch I made for Miss Lauren?” she asked sharply.

The words hit Diana like a slap.

Her hand froze. Slowly, she lifted her eyes from Selena to Henry, then back to Selena. “Miss Lauren?” she repeated, disbelief colouring her voice. “Your teacher?”

Before anyone could answer, footsteps echoed from upstairs.

A woman appeared at the top of the staircase and began to walk down, unhurried, confident, as though she belonged there. Her red nightgown flowed around her, hugging her body.

She laughed softly, leaning into Henry by the time she reached the last step, her arm sliding comfortably around his shoulder until their bodies brushed.

Diana stared.

Lauren Johnson.

Selena’s class teacher.

The room seemed to tilt.

“Why are you wearing my clothes in my bedroom?” Diana asked, her voice thin with shock.

Lauren looked down at herself, then shrugged lightly. “Oh, these old things?” she said casually. “No wonder the top is a little snug and the waist is loose.”

Her hand remained on Henry’s shoulder.

“Lauren got soaked bathing Selena,” Henry said quickly, avoiding Diana’s eyes. “Your closet was convenient.”

Selena nodded, smiling. “Yes, Mommy.”

Something cracked inside Diana.

He never liked her wearing bright colours. He always said they were too loud, too attention-seeking. Yet here he was, standing proudly beside another woman dressed boldly, admiring her without restraint. It was never the colours he disliked. It was her.

Diana’s heart began to race. Tears blurred her vision.

“Mommy, give the brooch back to Miss Lauren,” Selena said suddenly, her tone commanding. “I spent all day making it special for her birthday.”

Before Diana could react, Selena placed the cake on the table, picked up the remote, and pressed a button. The television screen lit up.

Lauren’s picture filled the wall. Her smiling face beamed brightly.

‘Happy Birthday, Miss Lauren.’

Diana didn’t feel the grocery bag slip from her hand. She only heard the dull sound as it hit the floor.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. She struggled to breathe.

Lauren, Henry, and Selena exchanged pleased looks, completely oblivious to the woman breaking apart right in front of them.

“You threw her a birthday party in my house?” Diana asked, her voice shaking as she turned to face them again. “On our wedding anniversary?”