Too Late To Regret, Ex Husband

Judy’s POV“And… that’s a wrap for today!”“Great work, everyone. You can all head home.”The crew began packing their equipment, the metallic clatter of light stands echoing through the studio. I was gathering my things, my mind already miles away, when Director Marshall approached.“Not you, Judy.” I froze, a script clutched to my chest. “I need to talk to you.”He pressed his hands on his waist, his gaze sharp, then exhaled slowly. “You acted it very well. I love it. But… something is missing. The voice.”“Okay?” I asked, unsure.“By tomorrow, I need you to speak more firmly in your scenes. Make the audience believe you’re the villain. We’re misleading them, remember?”“Yes, sir.”“Good. See you tomorrow.” Marshall stepped away.I exhaled, already planning in my head how I would adjust my performance. Acting had been part of my life since the day I got married, and Marshall was the kind of director who pushed everyone to be their best, ensuring our movie would be the talk of the to

Judy’s POV“You are awake...”The voice was a distant hum, unfamiliar and soft, pulling me upward through layers of heavy, gray fog. My vision was a blurred mess of sterile white light and shifting shadows. As I forced my leaden eyelids open, the world slowly sharpened. A woman in a crisp white medical coat stood over me, her expression a mix of professional focus and a quiet, unsettling pity.She leaned in, her fingers cool as she gently pressed my eyelid downward. “Good. Just hold still for a moment,” she murmured. “I’m checking how your pupils react to the light. Look straight ahead and try not to blink.”A tiny, piercing beam of light flashed across my eyes, sending a dull throb through my skull. I did as I was told, though my body felt like it was made of stone. The rhythmic, electronic beep-beep-beep of a heart monitor filled the silence, a cold reminder that I was no longer in the home I had tried so hard to protect.After a moment, the doctor straightened up and walked toward

Lucas’s POVI shifted in the expansive breadth of our matrimonial bed, the silk sheets cool against my skin as I turned toward Claire. She was still deep in the throes of sleep, her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic, peaceful lullaby. I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips as I looked at her. We’d been sleeping in the same bed since the moment she came back, and every morning I woke up feeling like a man who had finally been granted a miracle.Her eyes were still closed, her lashes dark against her skin. I couldn’t resist the urge to lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead.There was a striking, almost haunting resemblance between her and Judy. In fact, if you hadn't been forced to look into both of their faces every single day for years, you’d never see a difference. They were mirrors of one another. But then, there was something about Claire. There was a warmth there, a "heart of gold"—or so I had told myself every day for twenty years.As I watched her sleep,

Judy’s POV“I’m sorry…” she said slowly, her voice careful, searching, trying to remember but failing. I could see it clearly in her eyes, that struggle, that effort that led nowhere. And truly, like I said before, I didn’t blame her at all.Seven years was a long time. Long enough for faces to fade, for moments to blur into nothing.Looking at my skin now, I glowed so much. My face was an evidence of beauty, something that even I was aware of now. Not out of pride, but out of truth. Life had changed me. Time had shaped me. I was no longer the fragile woman who had once walked into this hospital with nothing but desperation clinging to her skin.“It is me, Judy.” I declared gently, giving her something to hold on to.But she shook her head slowly. Her eyes lifted again, narrowing slightly, her brows drawing together as if I was a puzzle she desperately wanted to solve.“I am sorr…”“It’s okay.” I interrupted softly.I meant it. I truly did.I wasn’t angry that she didn’t recognise me.

Judy’s POV"He was someone I knew a long time ago, Jonathan. But your family is right here."Truth be told, I hated lying to Jonathan. I had never lied to him before. Not once. But this morning felt different. It was important that I did not tell him the truth. Not because of my own indifference toward Lucas, but because of him. Because he was still a child who did not deserve to carry the weight of an adult’s mistakes.Or was there even a right way to explain to a child that the man who was supposed to be his father was now married to his mother’s sister? That he was not wanted, or worse, not meant to be seen?The thought alone made my chest tighten.I bent to his height and gently collected the photograph from his hand, careful not to let my fingers tremble.“Were you…” the words died in my mind before they could fully form.I wanted to ask where he had seen the photo. I had made sure to delete everything. I had burned everything that reminded me of Lucas long before Jonathan was bo