Dean groaned, sinking into his office swivel chair. He covered his face with his hands, sliding them down before finally looking up at the ceiling. As he navigated the stresses of work, the weight of reality pressed upon him. Kaitlyn, his wife, had vanished, leaving behind only divorce papers and fragments of Ashenwood's assets.The perplexity of her sudden disappearance lingered, leaving no breadcrumbs for him to follow. Amidst the jigsaw puzzle of emotions, Dean acknowledged his shortcomings. He'd brought other women into their shared space, a home that once held the warmth of friendship. Now, in the aftermath of her absence, he couldn't escape the realization that, deep down, he still cared.With a heavy sigh, he let his mind drift to simpler times, recalling high school days when Kaitlyn's gestures of friendship stood out amidst the transient romances. She'd approach him like a clingy girlfriend, offering homemade meals, sharing her happy thoughts, and extending invitations to her
(The day after Kaitlyn left) As Mr. McGuain, Dean's seasoned 50-year-old attorney, entered the office, Dean welcomed him with a handshake and a warm gesture to take a seat. The ambiance of the room held a certain gravity, and the secretary promptly handed Mr. McGuain a cup of coffee."Good to see you again, Mr. McGuain. Please, have a seat. Thank you for coming." Dean greets them with a business smile as usual. Mr. McGuain reciprocated the handshake and settled into the creaking leather chair, acknowledging with a nod.They exchanged pleasantries before delving into the discussion about the divorce papers, the formalities of legal proceedings hanging in the air."Kaitlyn finally signed the papers, and everything is in order," Dean adds. Mr. McGuain, with a measured tone, inquired, "It's a significant step. Have you reviewed the details thoroughly?""I've glanced through them. Everything seems in order, as expected."The hum of the office machinery provided a backdrop as Mr. McGuain
Dean, feeling a heavy weight of hopelessness and shock, arrived at the house he once shared with Kaitlyn. The air seemed thick with the echoes of revelations, leaving him voiceless and emotionally drained. He slumped down on the familiar couch, his head leaning back in a futile attempt to make sense of the unraveling events.The room felt different as if the walls themselves held the weight of untold stories. Dean's gaze wandered to the large wedding photo that adorned the living room, capturing a moment frozen in time. In the picture, he stood awkwardly, while Kaitlyn radiated contentment and beauty. Dean began talking to himself, the words escaping in a mix of frustration and self-reflection. "What am I supposed to do now?" he muttered, scolding himself for his actions. The image of Kaitlyn's smiling face in the photograph served as a reminder of the happiness he never once gave her. "Why did I treat her that way?" Dean's voice grew louder, filled with regret. He questioned the vo
Days and weeks passed in the relentless search for Kaitlyn, yet she remained elusive as if she had vanished from the face of the earth. Each clue led to another dead end, leaving Dean and Carlo, the private investigator, frustrated and at a loss. Carlo, a friend and investigator, scratched his head in bewilderment, contemplating the seemingly well-planned disappearance. His searches yielded no results, and the absence of any trace suggested someone covering Kaitlyn's tracks. He leaned against the gate of the Ashenwood's sold mansion, watching the caretaker and gardener diligently tending to the property. With crossed arms, he pondered deeply. Attempts to gather information from the caretaker and gardener proved futile. They appeared honest, their words consistent with no slips of the tongue.Carlo sighed in surrender, ready to convey the disheartening news to Dean. As he reached for his phone, intending to share the grim reality, a tall figure appeared on the scene. The woman called
(Back to the present day)Upon waking, Kaitlyn, feeling famished, resolves to whip up her breakfast. Her yearning? Italian spaghetti. Drawing inspiration from Heidi's recipe, the growling of her stomach serves as a gentle reminder that she's nourishing not only herself. Kaitlyn started preparing the Italian spaghetti with a determined focus. First, she filled a pot with water, the sound of it rushing from the faucet echoing in the kitchen. With precision, she added a pinch of salt to the water, giving it a subtle flavor boost. As the water came to a rolling boil, she reached for a bundle of spaghetti, the strands clinging together.With a graceful twist of her wrist, she gently lowered the spaghetti into the boiling water, watching as it gradually softened. Meanwhile, the aroma of garlic filled the air as she minced it skillfully, preparing to infuse the sauce with flavor.In a separate pan, she heated olive oil, the sizzle accompanying the fragrant release of its essence. The mince
Noticing Kyle's friendly restraint, Kaitlyn appreciates the unspoken consideration. As they step outside, the fresh air seems to invigorate their conversation."You know," Kyle starts, "there's something about you that feels familiar, like a comforting nostalgia. I hope I didn't overstep by offering help."Kaitlyn smiles, "Not at all. It's appreciated. And I must say, your willingness to help is quite refreshing."Kyle laughs, "Well, it's just how I was brought up. In our culture, extending a hand to someone in need is second nature. Seeing you navigate those stairs with a baby on the way, I couldn't resist."Amused by Kyle's openness, Kaitlyn laughs, "Your cultural values are admirable. It's rare to find that kind of warmth these days."Kyle grins, "Thanks, Kaitlyn. I believe a little kindness goes a long way. Now, speaking of things, how about a little curiosity? Ask me anything."With a playful glint in her eye, Kaitlyn responds, "Alright then, how old are you?"Kyle chuckles, "Ah,
Dean's nightlife stays the same, surrounded by beauties but fixated on Kaitlyn.He orders a strong drink, watching the bartender's impressive moves with glasses.The bartender hands him an espresso martini, and he casually sips it.Despite the club's loud noises, it quiets his mind momentarily. The alcohol, however, only numbs his emotions, while the letter he holds continues to bother him.The late father-in-law's letter reveals Kaitlyn, his missing wife, was pregnant, sparking a flood of possibilities and what-ifs, unsettling Dean's thoughts.Loving Kaitlyn was never on the table. He never saw her romantically, let alone as the mother of his child. Admitting his current emotions is something he avoids, convincing himself it might stem from the knowledge of his wife running away with their unborn child.Dean inhales deeply, exhaling with palms pressed together, as if imploring for an end to his struggles.With his drink drained, ready to depart, a hand halts him, forcing him back int
After expressing gratitude to McGuain for the photograph, Dean, now in a sober state, makes his way to their former shared house.Upon entering, he sinks into the bed, delicately unveiling the photograph. His eyes fixate on Kaitlyn standing by the seashore, bathed in the hues of a sunset, smiling as she gently caresses her baby bump. It's a moment frozen in time, distant yet intimate.Dean's fingers linger on the image, tracing the contours of the captured happiness. "You look genuinely happy, Kaitlyn," he murmurs, his voice a hushed reflection of his emotions. "I wish I could have shared that moment with you, embraced the serenity of the sea breeze, and felt the anticipation of our child together."As he talks to the photograph, a floodgate of emotions opens. "I didn't realize what we had until it slipped away. I initiated the divorce, thinking it was the right choice, but seeing you like this makes me question everything."The room absorbs his whispered confessions, a sacred space f