You Were My Greatest Regret, Husband

“Ruth was so worried about you,” Ethan said coldly. “She even left her child behind just to help me look for you. She didn’t do anything wrong. If you're angry, take it out on me—not on her.”

Ruth burst into louder sobs, looking as if she’d been terribly wronged. Without another word, she ran out of the house like a wounded heroine.

Ethan’s eyes darkened.

“You owe her an apology,” he said icily. Then he turned on his heel and chased after her.

I stood there in silence, surrounded by the quiet of an empty home.

Every corner, every shelf, every wall was filled with memories—of laughter, promises, and a life I once believed in.

But now, all of it feels like a lie.

I quietly gathered my documents, packed a few belongings into a bag, and walked out of that house alone.

Later that day, I printed the divorce agreement and made arrangements for it to be delivered. Three days from now, it would be dropped at Ethan’s doorstep—alongside the abortion report.

That night, I returned to Grace’s grave.

Her photo on the tombstone still wore the same bright, innocent smile, like a little flower blooming against the cold.

I sat with her and poured my heart out, whispering all the words I’d never get to say again.

My tears fell onto the stone and bloomed into invisible flowers on the wet surface.

My final words to her were soft but firm.

“Mom will make sure you get justice. I promise.”

The next morning, while waiting at the airport for my flight, I overheard two women chatting beside me.

“Did you see the trending video last night?” one asked excitedly.

“999 drones lit up the entire city center, spelling out a confession. I heard the president of a big company did it to win back his wife! Gosh, I’m so jealous. When will someone do that for me?”

Her friend replied, “I know, right? I heard it was the heir of the Wells Group. Rich, handsome, and totally in love. His wife must’ve saved the universe in her past life—what luck!”

Curious, I opened the trending app.

There, in the top video, 999 drones floated in the night sky, forming one name: Ruth.

The lights morphed into swirling shapes, hearts, and glowing declarations of love. For hours, the city center glowed as bright as day.

I boarded the plane in silence. Just as I was about to switch off my phone, a text from Ethan came in.

“Have you thought things over? I’ll come pick you up later so you can apologize to Ruth. Everything will go back to how it was. Be good and don’t let me down again, okay?”

I replied without emotion:

“I need some time to think. In two days, I’ll come home and apologize to her myself. Can you ask her to be there?”

His reply was immediate and eager:

“Wife, I knew you were the most understanding.”

Two days later, a deliveryman knocked on the door of Ethan’s home.

He dropped off a sealed envelope with the divorce agreement and the abortion report—just as scheduled.

The house, however, was empty.

On the other side of the city, chaos erupted.

Ruth’s son had suffered a sudden relapse. He had fallen into a coma and urgently needed a matching kidney. The one he’d been waiting for—the baby I’d been carrying—was gone.

Ethan panicked. He tore through his contacts, tried everything to reach me, but I vanished.

He remembered our planned meeting too late and rushed home, only to find two sheets of paper and a USB drive lying quietly on the doorstep.