Semua Bab EX-HUSBAND'S REGRET (It's Too Late To Apologise): Bab 91 - Bab 100

The next morning, Calloway arrived early.I was awake—had been for hours, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember. Trying to find anything in the blank space where two years of my life should be.Nothing came.Just emptiness."Good morning." He stood in the doorway, cautious. Like he was afraid of startling me. In his hands, he held a tablet and a folder."Morning." I sat up, wincing at the pull of stitches. "What's all that?""Memories." He moved into the room, set the tablet on the bedside table. "Or at least, attempts at memories. I thought maybe if you saw photos, videos—heard stories about us—something might trigger."Hope flickered in his eyes. Desperate, raw hope that made my chest ache.I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd been trying to remember all night. That I'd stared at our wedding photo for an hour, willing myself to feel something.Anything.But there was nothing. Just confusion and a hollow sense of loss for somethi

"I want to try regression therapy."Dr. Reeves looked up from her notes. We were in her office at the hospital—I'd insisted on continuing sessions even after being discharged. The penthouse felt too big. Too empty. Too full of memories I couldn't access."Regression therapy," she repeated carefully. "Elena, that's not typically recommended for trauma patients. It can be destabilizing—""I need to understand these dreams. These memories." I leaned forward. "You said my brain might be creating false narratives. But what if it's not? What if there are real memories buried somewhere and I just need help accessing them?""Regression therapy won't help you distinguish between real and false memories. In fact, it might make things worse. The line between imagination and reality becomes even more blurred.""I don't care. I need to try something." My hands clenched in my lap. "Every night I dream about dying. About falling. About timelines that shouldn't exist. And I

We sat in silence for a long moment.Rosie slept peacefully in my lap, unaware that her entire existence was the result of impossible circumstances. Calloway remained kneeling in front of me, his hand still holding mine."We both experienced it," I said finally. "The time anomaly. Whatever it was.""Yes.""But differently." I looked at him. "I lived through it. Actually died and woke up three days earlier. Got a second chance to change everything.""And I dreamed it." His thumb traced circles on my hand. "Saw your death play out night after night until I couldn't ignore it anymore.""Two different experiences of the same event.""Or two sides of the same coin." He stood, moved to sit beside me on the couch. Careful not to disturb Rosie. "You were given the chance to live it again. I was given the knowledge to prevent it."The weight of that settled over us."Why?" I asked. "Why us? Why this?""I don't know. Maybe there's no reason. Maybe

The jury deliberated for four hours.Four hours to decide the fate of a man who'd terrorized multiple families. Who'd orchestrated kidnappings, attempted murder, and the shooting of a woman protecting her child.Four hours that felt like four years.I sat in the courtroom gallery, Calloway beside me. Victoria had stayed home with Rosie—we'd agreed that bringing a toddler to a sentencing hearing was inappropriate, no matter how central she was to the case.Marcus and Sienna sat in the row behind us. Detective Rodriguez was there. Even some of Gregory's former business associates had shown up, probably to witness his fall from grace.The bailiff entered. "All rise."We stood as Judge Morrison took her seat."Please be seated." She looked at the jury box. "Has the jury reached a verdict?"The jury foreman stood. Middle-aged man, teacher according to the jury selection notes. He held a piece of paper in slightly shaking hands."We have, Your Honor."

"Absolutely not."I stared at Victoria across the breakfast table. She'd shown up at the penthouse at eight in the morning with a determined expression and a leather bag I didn't recognize."Elena, please." Victoria set the bag on the counter. "Just hear me out.""You want to perform a protection ceremony on my daughter. A ritual. Like we're in some medieval village warding off evil spirits." I shook my head. "No. I won't subject Rosie to—""To what? A harmless tradition that's been in our family for generations?" Victoria's voice was gentle but firm. "I'm not asking you to sacrifice a goat or dance naked under the full moon. It's a simple ceremony. Blessings. Prayers. Symbols of protection."Calloway emerged from the nursery with Rosie on his hip. "What's going on?""Your mother wants to perform a protection ritual," I said."Ah." He set Rosie down. She immediately toddled toward her toy box. "The Sterling family ceremony.""You know about this