Wife Brings Her First Love Home For A Private Meeting

The wind whipped through the cemetery that evening, carrying the scent of damp earth as I knelt by Emily's gravestone. The rain had let up only slightly, leaving the ground wet and sticky, but I stayed, speaking softly to the cold stone as if Emily could still hear me. My voice trembled with the weight of everything I needed to say—apologies, regrets, promises I couldn't keep. The ache in my chest never eased, no matter how many words I whispered into the void. I stayed there longer than I should have, feeling the mud seep through my clothes, indifferent to the chill of the evening.

As I finally stood up, wiping the mud from my knees, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Jessica's messages flashed across the screen, each more demanding than the last.

[Jessica: Bring the soup to this address. I already told the front desk you're coming. Don't make me wait.]

I scrolled through the messages, my jaw tightening. The address was for the same restaurant where my reunion was being held. A bitter smile tugged at the corners of my lips. She had brought Michael to the reunion and now expected me to be their delivery boy. How fitting. The irony burned in my throat, but instead of replying, I shoved my phone back into my pocket and walked into the restaurant, the decision already made.

The warmth of the room hit me as soon as I stepped inside, contrasting the biting cold I had just left. Laughter and conversation buzzed around me as I made my way through the crowd.

“Aaron? Is that really Aaron? Hey, Aaron!” The familiar voices of my classmates broke through the noise and I turned toward them, forcing a smile as I was greeted with pats on the back and handshakes.

Jessica's head whipped around at the commotion, her eyes narrowing as she spotted me. Her gaze darted from my face to my empty hands, her lips pressing into a thin line. The silent accusation in her eyes was impossible to miss—she had expected me to be holding Michael's soup. But I ignored her completely, brushing past her like she didn't exist.

I walked straight to Roderick, who sat quietly at the far end of the table. His eyes softened when he saw me and he reached out to clasp my shoulder. “Aaron,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

I handed him the red gift box, the one Emily had prepared for him before she passed. His eyes glistened as he accepted it, stealing a glance at Jessica, who had turned her attention back to Michael. He sighed heavily, patting my shoulder once more before urging me to sit and eat.

Jessica, realizing I was paying her no attention, hesitated for a brief moment before focusing entirely on Michael again. Her movements were precise and delicate, carefully plucking a fish bone from his plate when it lodged in his throat. She doted on him, her face full of concern, but every now and then, her eyes flicked in my direction, as though she expected me to intervene.

Michael, emboldened by her care, raised his wine glass, a smug smile plastered across his face. “Aaron, where have you been?” he called out, his voice loud enough to draw everyone's attention. “You look like you just crawled out of a grave. Is this how you show respect to Mr. Sterling and the rest of us at the reunion?”

His words stung, not because of their insult, but because they were true. The rain and mud had soaked through my clothes and I must have looked a mess after spending so much time at Emily's grave.

"I'm certainly not as well taken care of as you, who even gets fed during meals," I replied, meeting his gaze with a calm stare. “But yes, I did just come from the cemetery.”

The room fell silent as my words sank in. Jessica's eyes flicked to my mud-streaked pants, her lip curling in disgust. “Why go to the cemetery in a storm?” she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. “Is your lover buried there or something?”

She and Michael both laughed, their voices cruel and sharp, but I barely heard them. I had grown numb to her taunts long ago. But when it came to Emily, I couldn't let it slide.

"Jessica, have you no conscience?" I snapped, my voice low and dangerous.

Before I could say more, Roderick slammed his hand on the table, the loud crack startling everyone. His face was flushed with anger, his hand trembling slightly as he spoke. “Your mother called out for you in the emergency room,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But you never came and Aaron had to handle the funeral alone. How could Emily have a daughter like you?”

Jessica's spoon clattered to the floor, her face draining of color. She stared at Roderick, her lips trembling. “What are you talking about?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “What happened to my mom?”

The room went deathly silent.

"You don't know?" Jonathan, who had been watching the scene unfold, leaned forward, his voice sharp with sarcasm. "Your mother had a sudden heart attack and passed away. The funeral was just last week. Everyone here showed up—except you."

Jessica's eyes widened and her breath hitched as she clutched the edge of the table for support, accidentally nudging a glass of wine, spilling its contents onto her dress before shattering on the floor. “No,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You're lying. Why didn't anyone tell me?”

I met her gaze, my expression cold and unfeeling. “I'd like to know that too. Didn't you see the 111 missed calls and over 100 text messages from me?”

Her eyes darted to her phone as if seeing it for the first time. She frantically unlocked it, her hands shaking so badly she dropped it onto the table. She pushed Michael away as he reached out to comfort her, her mind in a whirlwind of disbelief and horror. Blood trickled down her legs where shards of glass from the fallen wine glass had cut into her, but she didn't notice, too consumed by her frantic search for proof that I had lied to her.

For the first time in all these years, I saw Jessica truly break. But I felt nothing. The woman before me was no longer someone I knew, or perhaps she had never been.

It was the first time in all these years that I had seen her so heartbroken. But I felt nothing, as if the person before me was just a stranger.

Michael stood frozen beside her, panic creeping into his features. I finally turned to him and demanded, "Michael, I told you to tell her about her mom, didn't I? Why didn't you?"

He stammered, his eyes wide with guilt as Jessica stared at him in disbelief. But I didn't wait to hear his excuses. Without another glance, I helped Roderick to his feet, supporting him as we left the room. The weight on my chest felt lighter as we walked out of the restaurant, leaving Jessica and Michael to their unraveling drama.

After ensuring that Roderick was settled, I got into a taxi, the night sky heavy with the threat of more rain. I stared out of the window, my mind clear for the first time in months. Then, with steady fingers, I dialed my grandfather's number.

“Grandpa,” I said, my voice steady and resolved. “Pull the investment from Jessica's company. I'm ready to come back and help manage the family business.”