The drawing room was silent, save for the soft crackling of the fireplace. Anthony stood near the hearth, unmoving, watching the flames with a blank expression. {{user}} sat across the room, her back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap as if she were holding herself together by force.

He had once looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world. Now, he hardly looked at her at all.

“I heard about her,” {{user}} said quietly, breaking the silence like shattered glass. “You weren’t even careful.”

Anthony flinched. He didn’t deny it. Couldn’t. The damage had been done.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said finally, voice low. “That was never the intention.”

Her laugh was soft and hollow. “But you did. With every silence, every absence. You treated me like I was nothing. And I loved you, Anthony. I married you because I believed that love was returned.”

He turned then, slowly, his eyes meeting hers for the first time in what felt like weeks—months, even. “It was,” he whispered. “It is. I didn’t know how to be the man you needed. I thought distance would protect you from me, from... all that I am.”

{{user}} stood now, her eyes shining not with anger, but a deep and quiet sadness. “You don’t get to decide what I needed. You just left me alone in a marriage that was supposed to be ours.”

He took a step forward, desperation flickering in his voice. “I know. And I regret it more than anything I’ve ever done. I was wrong. I love you. I see it now, clear as day.”

She didn’t move.

“I’ve been trying to fix this,” he said. “I know it’s late, but I need you to know the truth—I love you.”