Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back)

ADRIAN Cole had it all. Wealth, power, a beautiful wife, and a daughter who adored him. But one mistake… one affair… and one phone call from his mistress was enough to shatter the perfect life he thought he controlled.

When Amelia walked away, she didn’t just leave her husband behind, she carried a secret of her own, a secret that would change everything.

Now Adrian is left chasing shadows of the woman who once loved him, realizing too late that money and pride can’t heal the wounds of betrayal. But the road back to Amelia’s heart isn’t just blocked by her pain, it’s poisoned by the jealousy of her own sister, whose hidden hatred runs deeper than anyone could imagine.

Caught between regret, family betrayal, and the fight for the woman he once took for granted, Adrian must prove that his love is real this time. But what if Amelia’s forgiveness is the one thing he can never buy back?

A story of betrayal, heartbreak, and redemption. Will love survive when it’s already too late for sorry?

001

THE Tuesday morning sun filtered gently through the tall velvet drapes, spilling faint golden light across the master bedroom. The room itself was a blend of elegance and warmth, walls paneled with deep mahogany, a chandelier that hung from the high ceiling like a jeweled crown, and a king-sized bed draped in soft, ivory sheets and a heavy duvet embroidered with gold patterns. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, the work of Amelia’s nighttime candles, their glow now extinguished.

On the bed, Adrian lay fast asleep, his breathing calm and steady, his arm stretched across the empty space where his wife usually rested. His handsome face was softened in slumber, unaware of what the morning had in store for him.

Then it came.

A scream, shrill, sudden, piercing echoed from downstairs. His eyes shot open, heart thudding against his chest. With a sharp gasp, he sat upright and instinctively turned to his side. The bed was empty.

“Babe? Babe?” his voice broke into the silence, urgent and frantic.

Without hesitation, he yanked the heavy duvet aside, swung his legs to the floor, and scrambled to his feet. His bare footsteps slapped against the polished wooden floor as he bolted out of the room, his mind racing with dreadful possibilities.

But the moment he reached the living room, he froze.

Confetti burst into the air with a cheerful pop-pop-pop, followed by the sing-song voices of the two people he loved most.

“🎶 Happy Birthday to you… 🎶”

There stood Amelia, his wife, radiant even in her pale-blue silk pajamas, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. Beside her was their daughter, little Hazel, in her pink unicorn-themed pajama set, holding a confetti popper that had just gone off in her tiny hands. Both their faces glowed with joy as their voices filled the spacious living room.

For a moment, Adrian was completely lost. His chest rose and fell as he stared at them, his confusion melting into the warmest smile he had ever worn. His lips parted, but no words came out, only the stunned realization that his morning panic had been traded for this overwhelming wave of love.

“Daddy! Happy birthday!!” Hazel squealed, bouncing in excitement.

The sound snapped him fully to the moment, and he laughed, a deep, hearty laugh that made Amelia grin wider.

“Good heavens,” he muttered with a hand over his chest, still catching his breath. “I thought someone was being murdered down here.”

Amelia smirked playfully.

“Well, technically… we murdered your sleep.”

They all burst into laughter, Hazel giggling so hard she nearly tripped over her little bunny slippers.

“Come on, Daddy!” Hazel chimed, running toward him with a small bag. She stretched it out proudly. “I got you presents!”

Adrian bent to her level, his eyes softening as he accepted the gift bag from her tiny hands. Inside were two carefully wrapped packages. The first bore the words, scrawled in childlike handwriting: *I love you, Daddy*. The second one had a bright sticker that read: *Best Daddy in the World*.

Adrian’s throat tightened as he pulled out the first present. Inside was a hand-drawn card of stick figures— him, Amelia, and Hazel, holding hands under a big yellow sun. His daughter had even drawn his tie crooked, exactly the way he sometimes wore it when rushing for work.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Adrian’s voice grew thick with emotion. “This is the most perfect gift I have ever seen.”

Hazel giggled proudly.

“You like it?”

“I love it honey,” he said with firm sincerity, pulling her into a big bear hug. “You are the best artist in the whole world. Picasso has nothing on you.”

Hazel’s eyes sparkled.

“Who is Pikachu?”

Amelia burst into laughter, nearly doubling over. Adrian chuckled and kissed Hazel’s forehead.

“Not Pikachu, darling. Forget it, you are better than anyone. And this,” he picked up the second gift, “must be amazing too.”

He unwrapped it to find a mug with *Best Daddy in the World* boldly printed across it. Adrian grinned from ear to ear.

“Now this,” he said, holding it up like a trophy, “is official proof. If anyone ever doubts it, I will just sip coffee from this and show them.”

Hazel giggled again, clapping her hands.

“Yes, Daddy is the best!”

Amelia walked closer, her hands hidden behind her back.

“Well,” she said in a teasing tone, “if Hazel is done stealing the spotlight, I suppose it is my turn.”

Adrian raised a brow, playfully suspicious.

“Oh? And what have you got up your sleeve, Mrs. Amelia Cole?”

With a dramatic flourish, Amelia brought out a sleek, ribboned box. The glossy packaging alone screamed elegance. She handed it to him with a smirk.

Adrian carefully opened it, and his eyes widened. Inside was a luxury wristwatch, gleaming under the light, the very model he had admired once but never bought for himself.

His jaw dropped.

“Babe… this, this is too much.”

She smiled softly, stepping closer.

“Nothing is too much for the man I love. Happy birthday, darling.”

He set the box aside and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

“Thank you, baby. I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do,” she whispered, kissing his cheek.

Their eyes met, and slowly, naturally, their lips touched in a tender kiss. Hazel, however, instantly covered her eyes with her small hands.

“Ewwww! Not in front of meee!” she squealed dramatically.

Adrian pulled back just enough to chuckle against Amelia’s lips.

“We are embarrassing her.”

Amelia laughed too.

“Good. That is our job.”

Hazel peeked through her fingers, pouting, then all three of them burst into laughter, their home ringing with the sound of love and joy.

And in that moment, Adrian realized he wasn’t just rich in possessions or success, he was rich because of them. His wife. His daughter. His family.

***

Amelia reached for the neatly pressed dark red suit jacket lying on the bed, her fingers brushing over the fine fabric before lifting it. Adrian stood tall before the mirror, adjusting his tie with that usual air of focus that always made him seem as though his mind was already at the office.

“Hold still,” she said softly, sliding the jacket onto his shoulders. He glanced at her reflection in the mirror, his lips curving in the faintest smile as she straightened the lapel.

For a moment, there was silence, just the sound of Amelia fussing over his collar and the distant hum of the morning.

Then, almost casually, she added, “You know… our daughter doesn’t just want a birthday this year.”

Adrian let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

“Doesn’t just want a birthday? What does that even mean?”

“She said she wants a family dinner,” Amelia replied, stepping back to admire her work. “And when she said family, she meant with you present. No excuses.”

Adrian turned from the mirror, his brows lifting slightly.

“Dinner, huh? And what is on the menu this time?”

Amelia gave him a small smile.

“Your favorite. Roasted lamb, mashed potatoes, and strawberry cheesecake.”

He exhaled, nodding slowly, then planted kisses on her forehead.

“Right. I will… try to clear my desk early so I can make it home in time.”

He reached for his briefcase, slinging it over his shoulder with that practiced ease. Without another word, Adrian walked toward the door. Amelia stood by the bed, watching as he left the room, her heart silently hoping he would keep his promise this time.

“Dinner, promise?” Amelia halted him.

He turned to look at her, the smiles evident on his face.

“I promise,” he whispered. They both smiled, and with that he walked away.

002

THE kitchen felt unusually quiet after the heavy front door shut behind Adrian. The faint echo of his polished shoes against the marble floor lingered in Amelia’s ears long after he had gone. She stood still for a moment, her fingers brushing over the back of the chair he had occupied for a snappy breakfast, staring at the untouched piece of toast on his plate. He had barely eaten, as usual, too preoccupied with the day’s looming appointments.

Amelia sighed softly. She gathered the plates and set them in the sink, forcing herself into motion. The clinking of ceramic was the only sound filling the room, accompanied by the hum of the refrigerator. She didn’t like silence, at least, not this kind. It wasn’t peaceful; it was hollow.

From the hallway came the sound of small, eager footsteps.

“Mommy!” Hazel, called, dragging her schoolbag along the floor. “Is Daddy gone already?”

Amelia turned, her heart tightening at the sight of her little girl’s expectant face. Hazel was barely seven, with her father’s sharp brown eyes but her mother’s soft features.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Amelia said gently, kneeling to meet Hazel's gaze. “Daddy had to go to work.”

Hazel's lips pushed into a pout.

“I hope he would be back early for dinner?” She held up the colorful sheet of paper she was holding with pride, stick figures holding hands beneath a bright sun, a house with smoke curling from the chimney, and the words *Me, Mommy, Daddy*. It was a newest drawing from her.

Amelia pulled her into a hug, inhaling the scent of her strawberry shampoo.

“Yes, he would,” she turned to the paper, “this is beautiful, darling. I’m sure Daddy will love it when he sees it later tonight.”

Hazel’s small shoulders sagged.

“He is always busy. I hope he makes it this time,” she pouted.

The words pierced Amelia like a needle. They weren’t said with anger, only with the innocent honesty of a child who wanted nothing more than time with her father. Amelia smoothed Hazel’s hair and forced a smile.

“That is why we will remind him gently, hmm? And when your birthday comes, he will make it up to you.”

The mention of her birthday brightened Hazel’s face a little. She nodded and skipped off toward the door. Amelia followed behind, grabbing Hazel's water bottle and carefully packing the lunchbox she had prepared.

The drive to school was filled with Hazel’s chatter about her classmates and the storybook her teacher promised to read. Amelia listened, smiling, though her thoughts drifted back to Adrian. She remembered the way he had responded that morning when she mentioned being present for dinner, his response had shown more concern for his meetings than with the thought Hazel had wanted this.

By the time Amelia kissed Hazel goodbye at the school gate, her smile felt tight around the edges. Watching her daughter run into the building with her backpack bouncing made her both proud and sad. Proud of how bright Hazel was, and sad that Adrian kept missing these fleeting moments.

On the way back home, Amelia detoured to the grocery store. The housekeeper they barely hired for a day's job would usually handle shopping, but Amelia found comfort in the simple act of choosing vegetables and smelling ripe fruit. It grounded her, gave her a sense of normalcy she craved in the midst of Adrian’s high-flying world of deadlines and expectations.

She lingered over the bakery section, picking out Adrian’s favorite brioche. Even if he had barely touched his toast this morning, some part of her still hoped to catch him with a fresh slice tonight.

By the time she returned home, the sunlight streamed warmly across the living room. Amelia placed the groceries in the kitchen and, out of habit, walked into Adrian’s study.

It was pristine, almost cold. His desk was stacked with files, his laptop still open, as if the space itself never truly rested. Amelia’s eyes fell on a framed photo by the desk: the three of them smiling on a rare holiday at the beach. Adrian’s arm had been looped around her shoulders, his eyes softer then, his smile unforced. She remembered how he had carried Hazel on his shoulders, laughing when the waves splashed against their legs.

Her fingers brushed the edge of the frame.

“Where did that Adrian go?” she whispered.

The ringing of her phone startled her. She quickly straightened, pulling it from her pocket. It was her friend Clara.

“Amelia!” Clara’s cheerful voice burst through.

Amelia sighed. And her friend wondered if that sigh was out of tiredness or out of something else.

“Morning Clara,” she greeted, splaying her right fingers on her eyes.

“Hey, chill. You sigh whenever you pick up my call. What's up again? And happy birthday to Adrian,” she added.

A small smile played on her lips.

“Thank you baby girl. How are you? Leonard and the kids?”

“Everyone is fine, but don't evade my question.”

She sighed again, saying nothing. Clara exhaled.

“Lunch today? Now, you sound like you need a break.”

Amelia hesitated. Clara knew her too well.

“I can’t, Clara. There is still a lot to do around here.”

“You mean there is a lot of waiting for Adrian to do,” Clara teased knowingly. Then her tone softened. “Come on, Amy. You need time for yourself, too.”

Amelia smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Maybe next week.”

“No,” Clara thundered, “I will drop by at the boutique minutes before lunch. We are having that lunch today. I insist.”

Amelia rolled her eyes.

“Going to the boutique today wasn't in my agenda—”

“There you go again,” Clara interrupted, “how are you going to make sales?”

Amelia chuckled.

“I have a manager, and three sales representatives walking about my boutique, Clara.”

“Madam CEO, come out today, I want us to meet. There is this Versace gown I want to get as well, I want us to check it out together.”

“Alright, fine,” she gave in, “but I ain't promising,” she added.

After ending the call, she returned to the kitchen and started preparing dinner in advance. It felt foolish sometimes, this ritual of cooking meals Adrian rarely ate at home, but she couldn’t stop herself. Every slice of the knife against the cutting board was a silent hope that tonight might be different.

003

THE hum of the car engine slowed into silence as Adrian pulled into the parking lot. Morning sunlight danced across the sleek black paint, reflecting the kind of success that needed no chauffeur, no driver in the front seat, just Adrian himself, the man who preferred control in everything he touched. He exhaled slowly, a habit he had never managed to shake off before stepping into the world of work.

Just as he reached for his briefcase, his phone buzzed on the passenger seat. The vibration was sharp, urgent, and yet when his eyes dropped to the screen, his lips curved into a private smile.

The Automobile Guy.

Of course, no one at home and work would ever suspect what that name meant. For them, it was just another client, another business contact. For his wife, it was the company's automobile repairer. But Adrian knew better. The moment he swiped the screen, her voice flooded his ear like velvet.

“Happy birthday, darling.”

The softness of her tone carried a promise, one that made him lean back against the leather seat with an unguarded grin.

“You remembered,” he replied, his voice warm, casual, but tinged with a satisfaction he couldn’t quite hide.

“I could never forget,” she said, laughter rippling lightly at the end of her words. “So, what is the big plan tonight? You are not going to leave me wondering, are you?”

Adrian chuckled, his hand drumming on the steering wheel.

“Big plan?” he teased. “You know me, I like to keep things quiet. But—” he lowered his voice, almost conspiratorial, “I will stop by after work. A little celebration. Just us.”

The line went silent for a beat, then her voice returned, softer, more playful.

“That is what I wanted to hear. I have got a surprise for you too.”

“You and your surprises,” he murmured, pretending to sound weary but smiling nonetheless. “Last time you nearly set my whole schedule off balance.”

“That is because you spend too much time working,” she shot back. “Birthdays aren’t for boardrooms, Adrian.”

Adrian let her words linger, the warmth in them stirring something he buried too often beneath spreadsheets and strategies. He glanced around the quiet lot, half-aware of how dangerous this game was. Yet, it was moments like this that slipped under his armor.

“You have already made my morning better,” he confessed, his voice low. “Now, let me get through this day, and tonight, we will talk about real celebrations.”

Her laugh filled his ear once more, rich and satisfied.

“I will hold you to that.”

The call ended, the name *The Automobile Guy* blinking away as though erasing evidence of what just transpired. Adrian stared at the screen for a moment before sliding the phone back into his pocket, his expression settling into the polished calm he wore like a suit.

A shadow fell across the driver’s side window. He looked up to find a familiar figure approaching with a spring in his step. Peter, his assistant, young and brimming with the kind of energy Adrian sometimes envied, grinned at him.

Adrian rolled down the window as he leaned slightly closer.

“Happy birthday, sir!” the assistant said, his tone respectful but touched with friendly warmth. “I thought I would be the first in the office to say it.”

Adrian arched a brow, amused.

“You are not the first,” he muttered under his breath, then caught himself. Straightening, he replied with a nod, “Thank you, Peter. Early as always, I see.”

Peter chuckled.

“Someone has to make sure things are smooth before the boss arrives. Besides, I figured today would be special for you.”

Adrian stepped out of the car, adjusting his jacket with practiced ease.

“Special? It is just another day. Clients don’t care if it is your birthday.”

“But employees do,” Peter countered lightly as they fell into step toward the building. “And maybe your family too. You have got dinner planned tonight, right?”

Adrian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his thoughts flashing briefly to the earlier call.

“Something like that,” he said vaguely.

Peter, always sharp enough to sense when not to push, smoothly shifted the conversation.

“Alright then, back to business. I reviewed the reports from yesterday, there is a bit of an issue with the Westbrook account. Their shipment hasn’t cleared, and if it drags, we might lose their confidence.”

Adrian’s stride didn’t falter.

“I will handle Westbrook myself. Draft an email setting a meeting for Friday. Make sure the numbers are in order before then.”

“Yeah, I'm already working on it,” Peter said quickly. His tone carried a hint of pride, the eagerness of someone who knew Adrian demanded perfection but respected it when he saw initiative. “And about the presentation this afternoon, you will have everything ready on your desk by noon.”

Adrian gave a slight nod of approval.

“Good. Keep it sharp. We are not leaving room for errors.”

“And ugh, a lady rang this morning—” he paused, not having the slightest idea whether to continue or just stop.

“A lady?” Adrian halted, turning to him.

Peter nodded.

“Yes sir, a lady.”

“Business I suppose,” he continued walking.

“I'm afraid not, sir.”

“Then what?”

“She wanted to wish you a happy birthday, says her name is—”

“I don't care about her name,” he interrupted, “save it,” he added.

Peter swallowed hard.

“Okay, sir.”

They approached the glass doors of the building, the morning light reflecting off its surface like a mirror. Peter reached ahead to pull the door open, but Adrian’s hand was already there, firm and unyielding. He didn’t need doors opened for him.

“After you,” Adrian said instead, the faintest smirk on his lips.

Peter laughed softly, shaking his head as they entered.

“Even on your birthday, sir, you are impossible.”

“Discipline doesn’t take days off,” Adrian replied, his voice cool but steady.

And with that, the noise of the office greeted them, phones ringing, keyboards tapping, voices blending into the hum of ambition. Adrian’s expression slipped fully into its professional mask, the smile from earlier tucked away where no one else could see.

Only he knew that tonight, behind a door no one dared to knock, the real celebration would begin.

004

THE house was unusually quiet that morning, the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen being the only constant sound. Mrs. Harlow sat in her favorite chair by the living room window, a delicate teacup balanced in her hand. She had that pinched look on her face, the one that meant she had been waiting for an opportunity to speak her mind.

Claire walked in, her hair hastily tied up, her eyes shadowed with sleeplessness. She had barely managed a smile since her breakup weeks ago, but she was trying, at least in her own way.

Her mother’s gaze flicked to her instantly.

“Claire,” Mrs. Harlow started, her voice sharp yet laced with an air of superiority, “I don’t know what is wrong with you. Honestly, I don’t.” She set the cup down on the table with a quiet clink. “Twenty-eight years old and still unable to keep a man for longer than five months. Do you ever stop to ask yourself why?”

Claire froze at the doorway, already weary of where this was going.

“Mother, not this morning,” she murmured, rubbing at her temple.

But Mrs. Harlow was not one to be silenced once she had picked her target. “Don’t ‘Mother’ me. I am saying this because I care for you. Look at your sister, she is married to the richest man I have ever known, living a life that any woman would envy. And then there is you… stumbling out of one failed relationship into another. It is embarrassing, Claire. Embarrassing for me, embarrassing for this family.”

Claire felt her chest tighten. She bit down hard on her lip, fighting to hold back tears.

“So because Amelia married well, I’m suddenly a disgrace? Is that what you are saying?”

Mrs. Harlow leaned back in her chair, her tone calm but cutting.

“Don’t twist my words. I’m saying Amelia is proof that a woman who carries herself properly, who knows what she wants, gets it. Meanwhile, you— well, it seems you can’t even hold a simple relationship together. Men walk away from you as if you have nothing to offer. And I am tired of watching you wallow in your misery.”

The words hit like blows, each one sharper than the last. Claire’s fists clenched at her sides.

“You don’t understand, do you? You don’t know what I have been through. Do you think I wanted things to end the way they did? Do you think I enjoy feeling like this every single day?” Her voice cracked despite her best efforts.

Mrs. Harlow waved a dismissive hand.

“Excuses, Claire. Always excuses. The truth is, you don’t know how to keep a man. You push them away, or they leave because you don’t try hard enough. Meanwhile, Amelia doesn’t need to try, men line up for her. That is the difference between the two of you.”

Claire’s throat burned. She could feel the lump rising, threatening to choke her. Her mother’s words carved deep into wounds that were already raw from heartbreak. Amelia’s name, always Amelia thrown in her face like a reminder of everything she wasn’t.

“Maybe men don’t line up for me because I’m not like her,” Claire whispered fiercely, blinking back tears. “Maybe I don’t want to pretend to be someone I’m not just to be loved. Maybe I’m tired of being compared to Amelia as though I’m some failed version of her!”

Her mother’s brows rose, unbothered by the outburst.

“That bitterness, that tone right there, it is no wonder men don’t stay. You should learn to soften, Claire. Learn from your sister before it is too late. You are not getting any younger.”

That was the last straw. Without another word, Claire turned away, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she stormed toward the hallway. She didn’t care if her mother called after her; she didn’t care about another round of comparisons. The moment she reached her room, she shut the door with a firm thud and leaned against it, pressing her palms flat against the wood.

Her chest heaved as the silence of her room swallowed her whole. The tears she had been holding back finally spilled, hot and unrelenting. Claire buried her face in her hands, the weight of her mother’s voice still ringing in her ears, Amelia’s name echoing like a cruel shadow she could never escape.

Outside, Mrs. Harlow picked up her teacup again, sipping as if nothing had happened. To her, it was just another morning, another lecture. But to Claire, it was another crack in a heart already struggling to hold itself together.

Back in the room, the rage on her face suddenly slowly melted into a twisted smile as she let out a low, mocking laugh.

“Adrian, indeed…” she muttered, striding toward her dresser where a phone lay waiting. “Maybe Mother should first know what her golden boy has up his sleeves before singing his praises.”

Her manicured fingers flew across the screen until she found the number she was looking for, dabbing at her eyes as she did. Without hesitation, she pressed ‘call’. It didn’t take long before a familiar voice, sweet and playful, answered on the other end.

“Claire! What a surprise. Calling me in the middle of the day? I thought you would be too busy sharpening your claws at home.”

Claire chuckled darkly.

“And I thought you would be too busy stealing kisses from a man who should have been someone else's. Don’t play coy with me, you know why I’m calling.”

The woman on the other end laughed, the sound light and taunting.

“If this is about Adrian, don’t tell me you are jealous again. We have been through this, Claire. He is mine when I want him to be.”

Claire rolled her eyes, though her lips curved into a smile.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not calling out of jealousy. I’m calling because I need you to do something for me. Something important.”

There was a beat of silence, then a curious hum.

“And what exactly would that be?”

“His birthday,” Claire said smoothly, leaning back on her bed and crossing her legs. “Today. You already know that, don’t you? He told you, didn’t he?”

“Of course he did,” the mistress replied smugly. “He said he would stop by after work. Promised to spend a little time with me before going home.”

Claire’s smile sharpened like a blade.

“Good. When he comes, make sure he never leaves. Keep him with you. Make sure he doesn’t step foot back to that family of his until enough time has passed for damage to be done. Do you understand me?”

On the other end, the mistress gave a light, mischievous laugh.

“Oh, Claire, don’t you trust me anymore? After everything we have done together? You know I live for this kind of chaos.”

Claire smirked, lowering her voice to a dangerous whisper.

“That is exactly why I called you. Because I know you will enjoy every second of it. Consider it… a gift from me to you. You get him all night, and I get what I want at his home.”

“Now that,” the mistress purred, “sounds like the Claire I love. Always scheming. Always two steps ahead.”

Claire’s laughter joined hers, cold and satisfied.

“Good girl. I like the sound of that. Now, don’t fail me. If you do, you will wish you hadn’t answered my call.”

“Oh, don’t threaten me with your dramatics,” the mistress teased. “Adrian will be mine tonight, and I will make sure he forgets the way back to his own bed.”

“Perfect,” Claire whispered, her eyes gleaming as she ended the call.

She set the phone down, exhaled deeply, and whispered to herself, “Let’s see, Mother… let’s see how much control your Amelia really have over her Adrian,” she laughed.

005

THE glass entrance doors of Cole Holdings swung open, and Adrian stepped into the late evening air with a calm precision that mirrored his reputation. The city was awash in the faint glow of streetlights beginning to hum alive, while the final rays of sunset streaked amber against the steel and glass towers.

He carried himself with the kind of composure that commanded silent respect. His tailored suit hugged his lean frame; his polished shoes clicked against the concrete floor with rhythmic authority. In his right hand, he held his sleek black briefcase, the same one he had carried for years, each detail carefully maintained, not a scratch out of place. In his left ear, a single airpod gleamed under the dying sun, pulsing faintly as he dialed a contact on his phone.

His thumb slid effortlessly over the screen, eyes narrowing slightly at the familiar name. The call rang once. Twice. And then—

“Mr. Adrian!”

A voice broke the rhythm of the evening. Adrian stilled mid-step, recognizing the tone. He turned, eyes sharp but softened by familiarity.

Peter hurried across the granite steps, slightly breathless from trying to catch up. He clutched a folder tight to his chest, his tie loosened, betraying a day’s worth of exhaustion.

“Peter,” Adrian greeted, his voice even, a touch distracted as his phone continued to ring faintly in his ear. “You sound like a man chasing shadows. What is it?”

Peter stopped in front of him, taking a moment to compose himself.

“Just the final set of documents you asked me to review. I wanted to confirm if you will need them at tomorrow’s board session. There are figures inside that may stir questions, and I thought it better to prepare your responses ahead of time.”

Adrian’s gaze softened for a fleeting second, he valued Peter’s diligence, he always did.

“Always two steps ahead. That is why I keep you close.” He shifted the briefcase in his hand, free fingers drumming lightly against it. “Leave them on my desk. I will go over them tonight.”

Peter nodded, relief flooding his expression.

“Of course, sir.” He hesitated a moment longer, as though debating whether to say more. Then he gave a small, respectful incline of his head. “Safe trip home, Mr. Adrian.”

Adrian’s lips curved into the faintest semblance of a smile.

“Good night, Peter.”

Satisfied, Peter turned and made his way back toward the entrance, his silhouette soon swallowed by the revolving doors.

Adrian exhaled quietly, returning his attention to the call in his ear. Just as he began moving again, weaving through the dimly lit parking lot toward his black sedan, the ringing stopped and a soft, melodic voice filled his ear.

“Vivian,” he breathed, his tone dropping, smooth and unguarded now that no one else lingered near. A rare warmth slipped into his words. “My day was fine, angel. And how are you?”

The gravel crunched beneath his soles as he approached the car. He shifted the phone closer, his briefcase swaying at his side.

“Mm. I knew you would say that,” he replied softly, listening intently. A low chuckle escaped his chest, startling even him with how natural it sounded.

“Well, I’m just clearing my desk. Work had me chained longer than I intended.”

The sedan gleamed under the lot’s fluorescent lights. Adrian reached it in stride, pressing the unlock button with a subtle flick of his thumb. The locks clicked open. With a practiced motion, he opened the back door, slid the briefcase inside, and shut it with finality.

“You can’t wait, huh?” His voice dropped lower, his chuckle carrying a teasing note now. “Patience, angel. I will be right at the house soon. You will manage a little longer.”

He pulled open the driver’s side door, slipping into the leather seat with an ease that spoke of habit. One hand found the wheel, the other adjusted the airpod in his ear. He stared straight ahead, his reflection caught briefly in the rearview mirror, pair of sharp eyes, unreadable expression, but his voice softened again when he spoke.

“Yes,” he murmured, almost to himself, “I will be there before you know it.”

He ended the call with a gentle tap, slid the phone into the pigeon hole, and sat for a heartbeat in silence. The engine purred to life beneath his hands, headlights cutting sharp beams across the dim lot. Without hesitation, Adrian steered the car forward, the powerful hum of the vehicle echoing into the night as he pulled out and disappeared into the city’s veins.

***

The sedan rolled to a halt outside the gated compound, and Adrian climbed out, his eyes immediately finding the familiar cream-colored building with its wide balcony. It was the house he had made possible, every wall, every roof tile, every door lock was a reminder of his quiet devotion to her. He handled her rent, her tuition, her small luxuries; and though Vivian never asked aloud, she knew he never let her lack.

He pressed the bell, the sound faintly echoing within. The night carried the faint scent of hibiscus from the garden nearby, and he straightened his shirt as anticipation stirred inside him. The click of the lock was soft, but the sight that followed melted the tension in his chest.

There she was, Vivian standing in the doorway to her room, wrapped in a pair of soft pastel pyjamas. Her hair tumbled loosely over her shoulders, her skin glowing even in the dim hallway light. She leaned casually against the doorframe, lips curving into a teasing smile.

“Look who we have here,” she began in a playful sing-song voice, her eyes sparkling as they locked with his. “The birthday boy.”

Adrian chuckled, shaking his head as he walked toward her. “So you remember,” he teased back. “For a second, I thought you would pretend to forget.”

“Forget?” she gasped in mock offense, pushing a hand lightly against his chest as he reached her. “Please, you have been on my mind all day. How could I forget the most important day of my baby boo’s life?”

Their laughter mingled, soft and easy, until words dissolved into closeness. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she welcomed him into her warmth, arms circling his neck. They sank into each other like puzzle pieces that always knew how to fit.

“You smell like the night,” she whispered against his cheek, breathing him in.

“And you smell like home,” he murmured back, brushing his lips lightly against her temple.

Her laughter bubbled out again, light and musical.

“Cheesy,” she accused, though her eyes softened, betraying how much she liked it.

“Maybe,” he smiled, pressing his forehead to hers, “but it is true. You have no idea what it does to me, walking through your door.”

Vivian tilted her head, her voice dropping to a low, intimate hush.

“Then don’t ever stop walking through it.”

Their lips met, a tender kiss that carried years of relationship tangled with something unspoken, something deeper. Her fingers threaded into his hair as his hands slid across her back, pulling her closer, sealing the moment.

When they finally drew apart, she kept him in her arms, her laughter returning in that sweet, unguarded way that always undid him. She tugged at his hand mischievously.

“Come on, birthday boy. Don’t just stand there looking dreamy. You are mine tonight.”

Still giggling, she tugged him gently into her room. The sound of their laughter drifted through the corridor, her small feet padding across the tiled floor as she pulled him in, the door closing softly behind them.

006

THE dining room glowed warmly under the soft light of the chandelier, the polished mahogany table spread with elegance and care. Roasted lamb sat at the center, its golden-brown crust glistening, surrounded by bowls of buttery mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, and fresh bread rolls still steaming. A strawberry cheesecake decorated with tiny chocolate shavings waited at the far end, alongside a bottle of red wine, glasses already set. The table was neatly laid with silver cutlery, folded napkins, and a few birthday decorations Hazel had insisted on, balloons tied to the chairs, a small “Happy Birthday” banner tucked against the wall. Everything looked perfect, prepared for the celebration Adrian had promised to make time for.

Amelia stepped out of the kitchen carrying the last dish, a tray of glazed chicken wings, and placed it gently on the table. She smoothed her dress, an elegant navy-blue gown that hugged her figure yet looked effortlessly graceful, her hair curled neatly around her shoulders, makeup soft but glowing. She had dressed for the evening, determined to make it special, even if the hours had stretched longer than expected.

Her eyes drifted toward the living room. On the couch, Hazel lay curled up with her head resting on a pillow, her little birthday tiara tilted to one side. Her face looked tired, her small arms wrapped around herself as though she were trying not to fall asleep while waiting. Amelia’s chest tightened. She turned back toward the table, scanning the feast that had gone untouched, then to the wall clock above the doorway. The hands pointed to 9:20 p.m. She exhaled slowly, her shoulders dropping with the weight of disappointment.

With quiet steps, she crossed to the couch and lowered herself beside her daughter. Hazel stirred, blinking up at her mother.

“Daddy is still not back yet, Mommy,” she whispered, her voice edged with sadness.

Amelia brushed a stray strand of hair from Hazel’s forehead and forced a gentle smile.

“I know, sweetheart. But sometimes work keeps him longer than he wants. I’m sure he is trying his best to come home.”

Hazel’s lips trembled.

“But he promised… today is his birthday. He said he will be here.”

“I know, baby.” Amelia pulled her into her arms, kissing the top of her head. “Maybe he is just running late. We will keep the food warm, and when he comes back, we will still sing for him again. Okay?”

Hazel nodded softly against her chest, though her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

Just then, the phone on the side table rang out, the sound slicing through the quiet room and startling both of them. Amelia glanced at it quickly. It was Clara. Her heart skipped, and she reached for it, declining the call in haste.

Hazel tilted her head, watching her.

“Is that Daddy?”

“No, baby,” Amelia replied gently, setting the phone back down. “It is Aunty Clara.”

Hazel frowned, confused, but Amelia stroked her back, trying to keep her calm. She didn’t want to explain why she had been avoiding Clara’s calls. Not tonight.

***

The bedroom was modest, warm, and quiet, not nearly as extravagant as Adrian’s master suite, but cozy in its own way. The soft glow of the bedside lamp painted the cream-colored walls in a mellow shade, while the faint hum of the night breeze slipped in through a slightly open window.

Beneath the duvet, Adrian lay on his back, his arm loosely draped around Vivian, who had curled into him. Her cheek rested against his bare chest, her breathing steady and light in the afterglow of their intimacy. The sheets were tangled around them, the faint scent of their passion still lingering in the air, blending with the perfume she had worn earlier.

For a long while, silence filled the room, broken only by the rhythmic rise and fall of their breaths.

Then Adrian’s eyes snapped open, sharp and alert as if struck by a sudden realization. He froze for half a second before shooting upright, the duvet falling off his torso. The sudden movement jolted Vivian, who stirred, her full artificial lashes fluttering as she gave a sleepy yawn. Slowly, she pushed herself upright, confusion clouding her expression.

“What is the time?” Adrian muttered hastily, his voice rough with urgency. He stretched across the vanity and grabbed his phone.

The screen lit up.

His face stiffened.

“Oh my God!” he blurted, his voice breaking the fragile quiet of the night.

Vivian’s eyes widened, her sleepy haze vanishing.

“What? What is it?” she asked, worry slipping into her tone.

Adrian turned to her, his jaw tightening.

“It is past one a.m. already,” he said.

007

THE irritation on her face was evident.

“Yes, and so?” Vivian asked, her voice edged with irritation, her face still heavy with makeup from the night before.

“I have to go,” Adrian muttered, sliding out of bed. He bent to pick up his clothes from the floor, scattered in careless heaps from their sweet, reckless sex.

She watched him, her large lips parting in disbelief.

“You are being serious right now?”

“Yes, I have to go.” He pulled his shirt over his body and began buttoning it up with frantic hands.

Vivian clutched the duvet tighter against her chest, her eyes narrowing.

“But it is late.”

“I promised my family dinner, and I have to be there.” He scrambled into his suit jacket, fumbling with the sleeves as if the urgency alone might justify him.

“That is what I’m saying. It is late already. What is the point?” Her words came sharper now, her tone biting as she tilted her chin defiantly.

“The point is—” Adrian turned to face her, his eyes dark, his jaw set. “I promised my family dinner, and I have to be there.”

The fight left her all at once, draining from her body. She sank back against the pillows, her manicured fingers pressing hard into her thighs. She could only watch as he slid into his shoes, the sharp leather creaking under his quick movements.

“Really?” Vivian whispered, her voice low, wounded. “So after everything… you are still gonna go back to her?”

Adrian froze for half a second, then straightened. His expression softened only slightly.

“It is not about her,” he said firmly. “It is about my daughter.”

Vivian sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically as if the mention of the child was a rehearsed excuse she had heard too many times.

“Goodnight,” Adrian said flatly, pushing past the tension in the air.

She lifted a hand as if to stop him.

“Really, babe… ba—”

The door closed sharply, cutting her off. Silence swallowed the room. Vivian clenched her jaw, gnashing her teeth in anger, the echo of his absence louder than any argument.

***

Adrian walked past the dining table, his footsteps slowing as his eyes fell on the preparations that had been laid out. The soft glow from the chandelier hung over the untouched plates, casting a melancholy shine on the silverware that had been set with care. The food, once steaming and rich with aroma, now sat cold, a silent testimony of waiting too long.

He clenched his jaw. He could imagine her sitting here earlier, glancing at the clock with hopeful eyes, pushing her hair behind her ears in that nervous way she did whenever she was uncertain. She had probably waited until her patience dried into bitterness before giving up. And what about Hazel? Oh! What has he done?

Adrian gnashed his teeth, guilt simmering low in his chest as he turned away from the sight. He loosened his tie as he made for the bedroom, the silence of the house almost suffocating.

When he pushed the door open, there she was, Amelia. Just as he expected. She was already in bed.

She lay there, her face tilted up to the ceiling, eyes wide open, unblinking. It was the kind of stare that told him she wasn’t just tired, she was thinking. And thinking too deeply.

Adrian dropped his briefcase gently by the side of the bed, almost as if any loud sound would worsen the fragile state of the room. He inhaled, then exhaled, steadying himself before he walked closer.

Kneeling beside her, he studied her face. The soft glow from the bedside lamp painted her features in a fragile light, and he could see the faint redness around her eyes. Had she been crying? Or was it just exhaustion? The thought made his chest ache.

“Amelia…” His voice was low, careful. He wanted to reach for her hand, but paused, she didn’t move. “I’m sorry. I know I should have been here. I lost track of time.”

He swallowed, the words catching in his throat.

“Work dragged me longer than I planned, and afterward… I went out with the boys. Just a drink. I didn’t mean to stay that long. I wasn’t thinking, I wasn’t careful with the time, and I—”

He stopped, watching her. She blinked once, then slowly turned over. No words. Just the motion of her body rolling away from him. She backed him now, her eyes closing as though sleep was suddenly more important than his explanations.

The rejection, though subtle, hit him harder than a slap.

“Baby…” he whispered, desperate. He braces up and placed his hand gently on her arm, hoping for softness, for forgiveness. But she slowly, deliberately, removed his hand, tucking it away from her like it no longer belonged.

Adrian’s chest tightened. The silence pressed in around them, louder than any argument.

He lowered his head, resting it briefly against the edge of the bed.

“Please, Amelia… Don’t shut me out like this. I know I was wrong, but I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to hurt Hazel either.”

She didn’t answer.

The weight of the moment sank deeper. He could hear only her quiet breathing, steady and calm, as though she were far away, already drifting into a world where he didn’t exist.

Adrian’s mind flashed back to earlier that morning, her gentle reminder over and after breakfast, her hopeful smile when she said she was going to make something special for dinner just as Hazel had demanded. He had nodded, he had promised he would be available, already half-lost in his schedule. And now, here they were, miles apart though lying only inches away.

He wanted to pull her into his arms, to beg for the warmth he was losing. But he was afraid. Afraid she would push him away harder this time. Afraid her silence wasn’t just about tonight but about something that had been building for far too long.

The untouched food on the table. The way she didn’t even argue with him now. The quiet tears she thought he didn’t notice on other nights.

Adrian bit the inside of his cheek, guilt flooding him.

“I will make it up to you,” he whispered, though she gave no sign of hearing. “Tomorrow, I will come home early. No drinks. No boys. Just us. Please, baby…”

But her silence was impenetrable. She had folded herself into her own world, back turned, heart hidden.

Adrian finally rose, defeated. He sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, listening to the hum of the night. The scent of her perfume lingered in the air, mocking him with the intimacy he was being denied.

For the first time in a long while, Adrian felt the sharp pang of fear, not of losing his companies, not of missing deadlines, but of losing the woman who once waited at the door for him with laughter in her eyes.

And tonight, she hadn’t even waited at the door.