The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love

Allen had already left by the time Mia woke up.

His side of the bed was cold, the sheets neatly arranged, and his phone charger was gone from the bedside table. She checked the bathroom before reaching for her phone. It was only 6:12 a.m.

Allen rarely left so early. Even when work demanded most of his attention, he usually stayed for breakfast, although lately they had little to say to each other.

There was no message explaining where he had gone.

"Couldn't you at least have said goodbye?" she murmured.

For months, Allen had been distant. Whenever Mia asked what was troubling him, he blamed meetings, deadlines, or exhaustion. She had stopped pressing him because their conversations too often ended with him accusing her of making problems where none existed.

But today was their fifth wedding anniversary. She had hoped he would make an effort.

Perhaps his early departure meant he was arranging a surprise. During their first years together, he had sometimes arrived home with flowers or taken her to dinner without warning. Remembering those evenings gave her a reason to look forward to tonight.

She made coffee and sat beside the living-room window, thinking about her own preparations. Weeks earlier, she had reserved the restaurant where they celebrated their first anniversary. White roses, Allen's favourites, would be waiting at their table. She had also bought him a watch he had admired during a shopping trip, although he already owned several.

He probably wouldn't remember mentioning it. That was what made the gift special to her.

By nine, Mia had tried on two dresses before choosing the ivory one she had worn to their first anniversary dinner. She remembered Allen telling her that night how beautiful she looked and refusing to let go of her hand across the table.

She studied herself in the mirror, then gathered her hair into a loose knot.

"I hope you remember why you married me," she whispered.

Shortly after noon, she sent him a message.

Mia: I'm stealing you tonight, so please don't make any other plans.

His reply came a moment later.

Allen: I have a busy day. I might be late.

Mia: Today is our anniversary, Allen.

Allen: I know.

She waited for him to say something more, but the conversation ended there. He remembered the date, at least. She told herself that his curt reply didn't necessarily mean he would miss dinner.

That afternoon, she confirmed the reservation and the flowers. She placed the watch in its gift box and slipped it into her handbag. At six, she considered calling Allen but decided she had already reminded him enough.

Before leaving, she adjusted her dress in the mirror.

"It's one dinner," she told herself. "Surely we can manage that."

The restaurant was busy when she arrived. Couples talked over dinner while soft music played beneath the conversation. The hostess greeted Mia and checked her reservation.

"Your table is ready, Mrs. Hale. Will your husband be joining you?"

"He's running late, but I'm expecting him."

"Of course. This way, please."

The hostess led her to the table beside the window. Two place settings stood on either side of the white roses, exactly as Mia had requested.

"Would you like to order?" the hostess asked.

"I'll wait for my husband. Thank you."

Mia sat down, keeping her handbag close. A waiter brought her water, and she thanked him before looking toward the entrance. Each time the doors opened, she checked for Allen. Every new arrival went to another table.

At seven thirty, she looked at their messages again. His last reply was still the same two words: I know.

She thought about calling, but if he was driving, he might not answer. If he was in a meeting, he would be irritated. She put the phone away and waited.

By eight, the waiter had returned.

"Mrs. Hale, may I take your order?"

"Could you give me a little longer? My husband hasn't arrived."

"Certainly, ma'am."

His glance at the untouched place setting embarrassed her more than she wanted to admit.

At the next table, a man reached across to hold his wife's hand while she told him a story. Mia remembered when Allen used to do the same, keeping her hand in his even after their food arrived. She wondered when they had stopped sharing those small moments.

At half past eight, she ordered a glass of wine. She had been waiting more than an hour, and Allen had neither called nor sent another message.

She picked up her phone to ask whether he was coming when she heard a familiar voice nearby.

"You are impossible," a man said with a laugh.

Mia turned, relieved at first. Allen was standing a few metres away, near the private dining section. But he wasn't looking for her.

A beautiful woman stood beside him, laughing. Allen had removed his jacket and loosened his tie. He looked comfortable, nothing like the impatient husband who had barely spoken to Mia that morning.

The woman rested her fingers against his wrist. Allen leaned closer and said something Mia couldn't hear.

"You're terrible," the woman replied, playfully touching his arm.

Allen smiled at her.

Mia watched him for several seconds, trying to understand why he was here with another woman when he had told her he was busy. She had spent weeks planning their anniversary, yet he hadn't even come to the table where she was waiting.

She looked at her phone again. I know.

He knew what today meant to her. He simply hadn't chosen to spend it with her.

She considered approaching them. She wanted to ask who the woman was and why Allen hadn't told her he was coming here. But she couldn't imagine having that conversation while strangers watched, and she was afraid she would start crying before he answered.

Instead, she picked up her handbag.

The waiter approached as she stood.

"Mrs. Hale, is everything all right?"

"Yes, thank you. I won't be staying for dinner."

"Shall I bring your bill?"

"Please."

After paying, Mia glanced at the white roses and the empty chair opposite hers. She left the flowers where they were. The watch remained in her handbag, still wrapped for a celebration that would never happen.

On her way out, she looked toward Allen once more. He was talking to the woman and hadn't noticed Mia at all.

Outside, the evening air was cool. She checked her phone, although she knew there would be no message, then put it away. She could have called a taxi, but she wasn't ready to return to the apartment where she had spent the day preparing for him.

Her hands trembled as she started down the pavement. She rested one hand against her stomach for a moment and struggled to keep from crying.

For five years, she had loved Allen and believed their marriage was worth saving. Even when he grew distant, she had made excuses for him, certain that things would improve if she remained patient.

Tonight, she had watched him give another woman the attention she had been waiting for.

Behind her, the restaurant remained full of people enjoying their evening. Allen was still inside with the woman, unaware that his wife had seen them.

And Mia was walking home alone on their fifth wedding anniversary.

Word count: approximately 1,220 words, excluding the chapter heading.