Lose Me Once, And I'm Gone Forever

But even the perfect husband can be tempted to cheat on his wife.

When he heard the door open, he casually wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing. He walked over and planted a kiss on my forehead.

The scent of his body wash hit me first, warm and familiar. But then there was something else—something sharp, light, and floral. Not mine. My heart felt like it dropped a little lower, and my gaze turned cold.

"Why are you back so late, babe? Didn't the driver bring you home? It's freezing out there, so don't walk around, or you're gonna catch a cold and end up with another headache."

He crouched down, and before I could react, he was already slipping off my shoes and swapping them for slippers. His hands paused when they touched my toes—cold as ice—and instinctively, he cupped them in his palms, warming them up.

I used to feel something in sweet moments like this. Warmth. Delight. But now? Nothing.

"Just walked around the neighborhood for a bit. It's close. I wasn't cold."

When he was sure my feet were warm, he slid the slippers on and straightened up.

"Guess what I got you this month," he whispered, leaning in with a playful smile like it was some big surprise.

But I didn't even blink, just answered, "A high-heel brand."

Because, of course, he wasn't the kind of guy who just bought gifts.

He bought brands.

Thanks to his frequent so-called "surprises," I now owned stakes in at least a hundred companies.

If I'd lingered a second too long on some ad or product, contracts just showed up the next day.

Last time, it was high heels.

He chuckled, all amused, and flicked my nose like I was some kid he adored.

"Whoah, my wife's getting too smart now! Guess I gotta be more careful with surprises next time, huh?"

I wiped at my nose, trying to erase the touch of his finger.

"You've given me so many surprises—it's my turn now to prep some for you."

"Heather, it's been, what, 20 years since we met? Wow, feels like just yesterday..."

"I've got something for you, too. You'll get it in three days. Don't forget to check."

The way his eyes lit up was almost painful. He pulled me into his arms, voice bubbling over with excitement.

"Oh, my wife has really grown. You're even gonna give me gifts now, yeah? Oh, you're gonna make me cry, babe."

"We've got so many more decades ahead of us. I'm gonna document every moment I get with you, tell it to our kids, and maybe even carve it into my headstone someday."

I stayed quiet. His sweet voice buzzed in my ears, but it felt distant.

Oh, Heather, there's no time left for us. No another decade.

Later that evening, after dinner, he handed me the contract for the high-heel brand and asked me to sign it.

"Babe, I've already spoken with the brand. They've got some limited-edition designs this season, and I told them to set aside your size. Tomorrow, I'll take you to see them. They're all your style."

His eyes sparkled with anticipation, the excitement written plainly across his face.

I signed the papers without looking up, my voice flat.

"Alright. Thanks."

He was busy staring at his phone, completely missing the way my expression hardened.

"Heels are nice, but they're not exactly comfortable. Let the driver take you from now on, okay? Or if I'm home, I'll drive you myself," he said, absentmindedly scrolling.

"Heather, you don't have to do all this for me—"

He cut me off before I could finish. "Shannon, you're my whole world. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you happy."

"Besides, with how amazing you are, if I don't spoil you, what if someone else steals you away?"

As he spoke, he locked eyes with me, his gaze burning.

His hair, streaked with gray from donating bone marrow for me, caught the overhead lights like a badge of honor.

But none of it—none of these gestures, these gifts—were what I needed. And he'd never understand that.

Love wasn't there anymore. No need for someone to steal me away. I'd leave on my own.

After staring at me for two seconds, his gaze returned to his phone.

I forced a faint smile. "Still working at this hour?"