Too Late To Want Me Back, Ex husband

~Emily

By the time the wine lost its chill, so had my patience. I traced a hand over my rounded stomach, smoothing down the silk for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to distract myself from the tight knot forming in my chest.

The door let out a soft squeal, and I turned quickly, heart lifting before I could stop it.

A disappointed sigh, mixed with a hint of frustration, left me. Again, it wasn’t Henry. Not my husband.

Rather, this time, it was an elderly couple, holding each other’s hands and looking all lovey-dovey while chuckling at something I honestly did not care to know.

I set down my glass harder than intended, causing bits of the wine to spill onto the crisp table cover, but I barely noticed the mess as my mind reeled.

Did he forget our anniversary?

“Maybe something came up at the hospital,” said a small voice at the back of my mind, causing me to scoff quietly as I found the excuse utterly absurd.

What exactly could have been so important compared to our two-year anniversary?

Emergencies?

Henry had enough competent doctors to handle them. I knew this because I was a staff member. However, I had to take a break to focus on our child, the child I thought would strengthen our marriage, but it was rather the opposite.

Honestly, I couldn’t help but notice how Henry had been showing no signs of connection with me or our child lately. It was the reason I jumped on the anniversary date idea to reconnect. I brought the idea up to him this morning while he was getting ready for work and, surprisingly, he had agreed.

My thoughts were interrupted as I heard the door open yet again. I craned my neck, hoping it was Henry this time.

Another couple entered, with sunny smiles on their faces.

I quickly looked away, feeling a dull ache in my chest. Not sure if it was from Henry’s delay or the fact that the couples around me were having a great time, the same way I had pictured myself with Henry tonight.

I sat there like a pregnant mannequin, trying not to break, not yet. I believed Henry had a good reason for the delay.

The table attendant from earlier approached me, smiling politely with a hint of concern in his eyes.

“Hello, Ma’am.” His voice was smooth and professional.

I nodded in response, afraid my voice would shake if I spoke.

“It was nice having you here,” he added and glanced at his tablet. “I’m afraid your reservation for this table has expired.”

“Right,” I muttered. Three hours gone with no sign of my husband.

I had almost forgotten this particular restaurant operated that way. Earlier today, I’d been considering other places because, honestly, aside from the highly priced hourly table reservation, I didn’t fancy their delicacies.

Nevertheless, I had no choice but to go with them because it was Henry’s favorite restaurant. He would always say the vintage interior matched his style.

“You know, Ma’am,” the table attendant said, cutting through my thoughts. “You can renew your reservation for the table.” With a meaningful look at the empty seat across from me, he added politely, “Since you are yet to finish up.”

“I would love that.” I forced a smile, not wanting to look pitiful.

Picking up my phone to make the transaction, a message from Henry appeared on my screen.

Harry: Something came up, can’t make it tonight.

My smile disappeared, but I quickly slipped it back on as I faced the table attendant.

“A moment, please,” I requested, and he nodded with a knowing smile before leaving the table.

Taking a deep breath to calm the frustration in my chest, I pulled up Henry’s contact and hit the call button.

“The number you are calling is unavailable at the moment. Drop a message or try again later.”

“Seriously, Henry?” I huffed and tried his number more than twice. It redirected me to leave a voice message. Then came the beep.

I bit hard on my lower lip, feeling utterly frustrated. My eyes darted around. Seeing that no one was paying attention to me, relief washed over me. Yet, I couldn’t shake off the embarrassment when the table attendant came over again, smiling too widely, like he was trying to hide the fact that he knew my predicament.

“There will be no need for another reservation,” I quickly said before he could speak. Standing up, I picked up my phone and clutch, my hands trembling slightly. “I’ll take my leave now.”

I brushed past him without waiting for his response and headed for the exit, ignoring the ache around my waist. Sitting for long hours had triggered the pain. It would’ve been worth it if Henry had shown up. Perhaps it would have been better if I had kept the outing idea to myself, stayed in bed tonight, and saved myself the embarrassment.

Before starting my car, I sent a message to Henry. I waited for him to text back as it showed he had seen the message. Minutes passed, but I got no response, and my last hope crumbled as I drove home in silence, my thoughts all over the place as I tried to understand why he canceled.

Pulling into the garage, I picked up my phone from the seat where I had tossed it earlier. Henry still hadn’t answered my texts.

Sighing in frustration, I grabbed my clutch and got out of the car. As soon as I walked into the grand foyer, I kicked off my heels, hissing in pain as I slightly limped toward the living room.

I should have known better than to opt for heels, seeing how badly my feet had swollen earlier today as a result of the pregnancy. But of course, I wanted to look good for my husband, maybe feel eighteen again.

I heard the TV as I entered the living room, and then I heard Martha’s urgent voice.

“Ma’am.” She rushed down the stairs, seeing that I was limping. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“It’s nothing serious, Martha.” I waved it off. “I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, eyes filled with concern as she looked down at my swollen feet. “Your feet are swollen. We need to do something about it.”

There she went again, worrying about me and not minding that it was past her work hours and that she should be heading home. Martha was more than a maid to me. She always put me first like any mom would do for her daughter.

I let Martha guide me to the couch even though I could still walk by myself.

She said, “I will go get you some painkillers and massage oil.”

I smiled at her, grateful for her help as I watched her ascend the stairs, but then my smile slowly fell as my gaze shifted to the TV.

On the TV screen was Henry, smiling brightly and gentlemanly helping a blonde woman into a sleek, luxurious car. For a whole minute, I didn’t recognize who she was until I read the headline.

‘Henry Russell is thrilled to have Caroline Kingston back on her feet after three years in a coma.’

I honestly couldn’t believe my eyes as I pinched myself to be sure I wasn’t seeing things.

It was real.

Six years ago, Caroline and Henry were dating in college. But a few months after our graduation, Caroline was involved in a ghastly car crash caused by her cousin, and she was flown abroad for treatment.

Henry became a shadow of himself during Caroline’s absence, and I stayed close, helping him pull through the pain before something special started between us, or so I thought.

The sound of footsteps cut into my thoughts, and I looked away from the TV just in time to see Henry entering the living room.

“Henry.” I breathed, unsure of how to ask the question gnawing at my mind. I stood up.

His eyes swept over me, and he frowned. “Why are you still up?”

“I was waiting for you,” I replied, then calmly added, “You didn’t show up, I…”

“I was busy.” He cut me off as if the mere mention of the outing irritated him. “I made that clear in the text I sent you.”

“Clear?” I couldn’t help but scoff. However, I forced my voice to remain calm as I added, “Henry, that is the most vague text I’ve ever read.”

“Look, Emily.” He sighed. “I do not have the energy to argue today. I have had a long day and…”

“Sure, a very long day with Caroline,” I blurted out, barely holding back my anger.

He didn’t even look one bit remorseful about the fact that he bailed on our anniversary date, and now he was trying to play the tired card after spending our special day with another woman?

He furrowed his eyebrows harder, and I could see in his eyes that he wanted to deny it. But as his gaze shifted to the TV, which was still displaying his face and Caroline’s, he shrugged.

“Caroline needed me,” he said smoothly, as if he had rehearsed the line. “And it’s only fair I gave up tonight for her because today makes it three years since she survived that crash.”

Something quietly broke in my chest. So, he could remember things?

He remembered the date of Caroline’s car crash. And there I was this morning, literally forcing him to rake through his memory of what today was for us while holding a calendar up to his face.

“Even if it was our anniversary?” I asked carefully, not sure why exactly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Emily!” His jaw was tight now. “The best I could do for Caroline was make out time to celebrate her homecoming.”

“I’m your wife, for God’s sake, Henry. I should be your priority!” I snapped, my anger breaking loose. “Do you know how long I waited there for you to show up? How could you just ditch our anniversary for someone else!”

“Caroline isn’t just someone else, she is my friend!” He rebuked me with a glazed look. “For once, Emily, be rational. Anyone in my shoes would do the same.”

“Well, I wouldn’t,” I bit out. “If you were in my position, I wouldn’t abandon you to catch up with a friend!”

He went silent, staring at me with an unreadable look. However, for a moment, I thought he finally understood me.

“I think you’re selfish, Emily!” he finally said, shattering whatever was left in my heart. I opened my mouth to counter him, but he cut in at once. “We are done having this conversation until you know what true friendship entails.”

He turned to the stairs.

“True friendship or something else?” I asked without thinking, causing him to stop in his tracks.

He looked over his shoulder for a moment, his jaw clenched. Then he continued up the stairs.

Somehow, that silence hurt more than if he had answered.