Never Too Late to Return

Cassian Durel—the poor boy I once humiliated—finally destroyed my family. He ruined my parents, drove them to their deaths, and reduced me to scavenging through trash and swallowing other people’s leftovers. People said he had his revenge at last.

The night I threw myself into the sea, he followed me—though he couldn’t swim. A shark took his hand trying to save me. He later spent billions hiring hypnotists to erase my memories and force me to marry him. In the life he built for me, everything bent toward him; my world became only love for Cassian, exactly as he wanted.

But on our tenth anniversary I saw him slip into the nurse’s room at midnight. Her wailing overlapped with Cassian’s low, pitying voice—the voice I’d learned to mistake for moonlight. “I’m doing this to make her suffer when she wakes,” he whispered. “You’re the light of my life.”

I had hidden amnesia pills in my palm. Cassian believed I’d forgotten everything; he didn’t know I’d never truly let go. Tonight I would give myself the one real forgetting I’d never allowed: everything—him included.

——

I waited five hours. When Cassian finally returned his body still damp, the scent of Sorrel’s shower gel clung to him—sweet, intimate, unmistakable. He started at me as if I’d sprung up from the dead. A chill went through me; I forced a smile. “Why such a big reaction? Did you do something wrong?”

He avoided my eyes, shifting like someone trying to find footing. “The client was difficult. I drank too much and showered in the lounge.” The excuse hung there—pathetic. His cold-faced reputation made the business world tremble; who would dare drink him into the early hours and live?

I didn’t call him out. Instead I rolled the sleeve of my silk nightgown up, slowly.

A hideous burn scar crawled across his shoulder—raw, puckered, grotesque.

“Sorrel did it,” I said flatly. “Let her go.”

His gaze flicked to the wound; for a heartbeat his brow tightened, then smoothed. “It’s a minor injury. I’ll have the doctor bandage it tomorrow.”

“She just graduated—young girls are clumsy. Be understanding.” He began unbuttoning his shirt as if that would prove something. “I’ll have her apologize. I’ll make her cover the medical bills.”

I smiled without joy. His mother had called me a vixen once; Cassian had sent her back to their country house the same day, not even letting her pack. After all these years of being his wife, after every small indignity I’d swallowed, he treated a wound like an inconvenience—nothing more.

I slid my sleeve down to hide the ugly patch of my wrist. “I understand,” I lied. “I won’t trouble you with children’s mistakes.”

Children—my age. I pressed my fingers to my temple and breathed in slow and shallow. “Headache,” I said. The amnesiac’s side effects.

I had mimed this illness for years. This time, the pain was real.

“Why does it hurt again?” His voice sounded weary, almost bored. “It’s been years. It should have healed. Stop using this old ailment as an excuse—you’re driving everyone crazy.”

He paused, voice colder. “Don’t bother me. I have a multinational meeting tomorrow. I’m exhausted.”

Silence fell like a guillotine.

The stabbing ache that had started in my skull spread to my chest. I whispered, “Okay.”

My fingertips found the smooth cool of my wedding band. I tried to steady myself, to hold onto the anchor I’d worn for years—

But the ring slid free before I could grip it. It fell from my finger and hit the floor with a soft, final clink.