Regret Comes Late

The clatter of pots and pans echoed from the kitchen, mingling with the faint hum of a distant song Alexa often hummed while cooking. She moved with her usual efficiency, every motion precise, graceful. Yet, as I leaned against the doorway, observing her in silence, my eyes couldn't help but linger on the faint, scattered marks just below the collar of her neatly buttoned blouse.

Those marks weren't mine.

I turned on my heel, retreating down the hall. My chest felt heavy, as though an invisible weight pressed against my ribs. In the quiet sanctuary of our bedroom, I grabbed my phone and stared at the screen. The photo of us on the wallpaper—a candid moment from our honeymoon—felt like a cruel mockery now.

I scrolled through my contacts and selected Andrew's number. My brother's voice came through after a few rings, warm and familiar.

"Harry? It's been ages. What's up?"

"Andrew," I began, my voice strained but steady. "Is your research team still hiring?"

There was a pause, the faint crackle of the line betraying his surprise. "Finally decided to take the leap? What happened? Don't tell me you're actually leaving your precious wife."

I forced a faint smile, even though he couldn't see it. "She doesn't know. And she won't find out."

Andrew's tone shifted, more serious now. "Harry... are you okay?"

I hesitated, glancing toward the half-closed bedroom door. The distant clinks and clangs of Alexa still echoed from the kitchen. "I just need a change of scenery," I said at last, evading the question. "Can you help me with the paperwork?"

"Of course," he said, though his tone was laced with concern. "I'll send over the details tonight."

"Thanks." I hung up before he could ask anything further.

***

I didn't confront Alexa about the manuscript. What was the point? Two days later, my suspicions were confirmed when I saw a social media post announcing the release of A Thousand and One Confessions. The book, penned under her pseudonym had made its debut.

Nathan, ever shameless, had posted a triumphant photo of himself holding the book, his caption dripping with pride: [My girlfriend wrote this amazing book just for me! I'm the luckiest guy ever!]

The comments were a mix of envy and ridicule:

[Wow, your girlfriend wrote a book? That's impressive!]

[Sure, but she's just some nobody. Don't compare her to Mrs. Colby—she's in a league of her own.]

[Your girlfriend probably pulled strings to get it published. Not that big of a deal.]

Nathan's smug reply only added fuel to the fire: [My girlfriend is even better than Mrs. Colby!]

I stared at the screen. My lips curled into a bitter smile as I noticed Alexa's account had liked his post.

The following day, the buzz spread like wildfire across Carbel University. In her post at the university's website, Alexa openly praised the new book: [This is a beautifully written work. I highly recommend you read it. It's a masterpiece.]

Her endorsement exploded across the campus network.

[Wow, Mrs. Colby is recommending a romance novel? This I gotta see!]

[Did you hear? She said it's a must-read!]

[I'm buying it today—even if I have to live on instant noodles for a week.]

Of course, there were skeptics:

[Doesn't the writing style feel familiar? Kind of like her Confessions of Love—but rated R?]

[She'd never write something like this. She loves her husband too much to pen anything this scandalous.]

[She refused to sell out for another bestseller before. Why would she start now?]

But those doubts were quickly drowned out by eager admirers. I closed my phone, shaking my head. In this world, impossible doesn't exist.

***

Three days before my departure, I booked my flight. As I finalized the payment, I felt the warmth of Alexa's arms encircle me from behind. Her lips brushed softly against the nape of my neck, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

"Darling," she murmured, "what are you looking at?"

I quickly locked the screen, sliding the phone into my pocket. "Nothing important," I said casually. "Just deciding where to book dinner for my birthday."

Her smile widened, radiant as ever. "Oh, sweetheart, whatever you pick will be perfect. I'm taking the whole day off to spoil you. You deserve the best birthday ever."

I forced a nod, my expression unreadable. She had no idea about the encounter I'd had the day before.

Nathan had shown up at home, a copy of A Thousand and One Confessions in hand. His grin smug and his posture lazy.

"Mr. Colby," he said, "do you know who wrote this book?"

I said nothing, watching him with a cold, steady gaze.

"It's your wife, Alexa," he continued, holding the book up like a trophy. "She acts so in love with you in public, but it's all a sham. You're just part of her image—her brand."

He leaned closer, his grin widening. "She told me she's tired of you. Thinks you're old and boring. You know what she really loves?" He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. "My young, strong body. If you don't believe it, let's see who she chooses tomorrow, you or me."