He Never Said Goodbye, So I Did

Eight years into our marriage, Bernard cheated on me.

Not just cheated. He hid a woman like she was some fragile little bird, tucked away where my life couldn’t touch her. Ingrid Delaney. That was her name. I didn’t scream when I found out. I just sat there and felt empty.

Then the next day, I arranged everything. I sent her away with a wealthy old businessman from New York, someone with money, power, and a reputation that made people look away. She went willingly. I didn’t ask why. I didn’t care.

After that, Bernard came back home like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t betrayed me. Like he wasn’t a man who ordered deaths with a single call. He was gentle again. Attentive. He’d sit beside me at dinner, ask if I was tired, and touch my shoulder like he actually cared.

I told myself it was just a small thing. Just a mistake. Something men like him did.

I was wrong.

A month later, everything collapsed.

My family company went bankrupt overnight. Deals fell apart, accounts froze, partners vanished like ghosts. My father couldn’t handle it. He jumped off a building, leaving nothing but blood and debts behind. My mother… they said creditors came for her. They didn’t just take money. They took everything. She died screaming. My little sister was kidnapped and gang raped then threw her body on the road.

And me?

I broke. My body gave up. I couldn’t even stand. I just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what I did to deserve this. Was it something I said? Something I missed? Why was everything taken from me?

On my last day, Bernard stood beside my bed.

The man I loved more than my own life.

His face wasn’t gentle anymore. It twisted, ugly and cold, like I was looking at a stranger.

“You remember what you did?” he said, voice low, dangerous. “You handed Ingrid to that old bastard. You think I didn’t know what would happen to her? She died in that bed, Naomi. Covered in bruises, begging for someone to save her.”

My fingers shook against the sheets. “I didn’t… I didn’t know…”

“Don’t lie to yourself,” he cut me off, sharp, impatient. “You knew enough. And now you’re paying for it. Every single thing that happened to your family? That was me.”

My heart stopped.

“You—?” I couldn’t even breathe. “You destroyed them?”

He let out a dry laugh. “Who else could do it so clean? Your father jumping, your mother getting dragged into hell, your sister got raped. That’s what happens when you touch what’s mine.”

I stared at him. This man. This monster.

“Why?” I whispered. “I loved you… wasn’t that enough?”

He looked down at me like I was nothing. “Love? Don’t talk about love like you understand it. Ingrid was mine. You took her away. So I took everything from you. Fair trade.”

Fair?

Was that what this was?

My chest hurt so much I thought it would split open. I wanted to scream, to claw at him, to ask him why he married me in the first place. But no sound came out.

In the end, I just lay there, staring at him, and died with that question still stuck in my throat.

Why did you choose me if you were going to destroy me?

…

When I opened my eyes again, I was standing outside the study.

My body felt light. My heart was racing like it was trying to escape my chest.

Inside, I heard his voice.

Bernard.

Alive.

“Yeah, thanks, brother,” he said over the phone, his tone low and controlled, “Transfer the villa in the suburbs to Ingrid’s name for now. I’ll owe you one. And don’t let your sister-in-law find out. I don’t want drama at home.”

My whole body went cold.

This… this moment.

I knew it.

This was the day I found out about her in my past life.

My hands clenched at my sides. Am I dreaming? Or did I really come back?

Then I heard him again, softer this time, almost amused. “Ingrid’s different, you know. When I’m with her, I can breathe. She’s warm, she’s alive. But Naomi…” He paused, and I could almost hear the frown on his face. “She’s just there. Always serious, always watching. It’s suffocating.”

My throat tightened.

“I’m not leaving my wife,” he added. “Don’t get it twisted. I just need somewhere to go when I’m sick of the silence. That doesn’t mean I don’t love her. I just can’t stand being around her too long.”

Each word felt like a knife sliding into my chest.

So that’s what I was to him?

A cage?

I pressed my lips together, forcing the tears back. No. Not again. I’m not going to fall apart again.

I walked back to the living room and sat down on the sofa, hands resting quietly on my lap like I hadn’t just heard my entire life shatter.

...

A few minutes later, the study door opened.

Bernard stepped out, tall, composed, dressed in black like the king of a world built on blood. His eyes landed on me and he froze for a second.

“Honey? When did you get back?”

I looked up at him. Same face. Same voice. The same man who killed my entire family.

“I just got home. Been sitting here for a bit.”

He watched me, like he was trying to read something on my face. For a moment, I thought he knew. Then he looked away, jaw tightening.

“There’s an issue with one of the shipments,” he reached for his coat. “I have to go handle it. Don’t wait up.”

Same excuse.

Exactly the same.

I stared at him for two seconds. My heart didn’t even react this time.

“Okay,” I said. “Go.”

He hesitated, like he expected me to ask more. I didn’t.

“Get some rest,” he muttered, then turned and walked out.

The door closed. And just like that, he didn’t come home that night. Again.

I sat there the whole night. Like a ghost, staring at nothing, waiting for something to hurt less. It never did. When the first light came through the window, it felt cold on my face. I rubbed my eyes, but they were dry. No tears left. Of course not. I already cried them all out in my last life.

I stood up, made myself eat a little breakfast like a normal wife, then left the house.

...

First stop was a law firm. I didn’t think too much about it. If I stopped, I might hesitate. And I couldn’t afford that.

Then I went to the MacAllister Group.

His empire.

Top floor. Of course. Bernard always liked being above everyone, literally and figuratively. The elevator doors opened and the hallway was empty, too quiet. But from inside his office, I heard something.

Soft voices. Low. Intimate.

“Mr. MacAllister, you're too naughty! Ugh!”

My steps froze.