My Ex-Husband Regrets After I Left

"Don't tell me you've forgotten what day it is, my husband."

Arkana paused just as he was about to take off his heavy wool coat in the foyer. The icy New York winter air that slipped through the apartment door as it closed behind him seemed almost warmer than the voice that greeted him. He turned to find Aurelia standing beside the dining table, her apron still tied around her slender waist.

He let out a quiet sigh, loosening his tie before walking toward her.

"I didn't forget, sweetheart. If I had, I wouldn't have made it home just before the day ended."

Aurelia fell silent. Her eyes traced the exhaustion etched across her husband's face. The tension that had been tightening in her chest slowly eased, replaced by a quiet sense of guilt. She stepped forward and reached for his black wool coat.

"I'm sorry," Aurelia whispered, unable to meet his eyes. "I was just afraid you'd forget our first wedding anniversary."

Arkana said nothing. Instead, he gently patted the top of her head, a familiar gesture that never failed to calm her.

"I'm going to take a quick shower. After that, we'll celebrate our anniversary."

A faint smile touched Aurelia's lips.

Once Arkana disappeared into the bathroom, she hurried back to the dining table. Since early that morning, she had been busy in the kitchen overlooking the glittering lights of New York City. Every dish on the table was Arkana's favorite, from a perfectly cooked steak to a bowl of warm mushroom soup. Beside his plate sat a small velvet box in deep navy blue. Inside was a pair of silver cuff links that Arkana had admired at a boutique the previous week.

*This past year hasn't been easy,* Aurelia thought as she lit the aromatherapy candle at the center of the table. *But tonight, I want us to remember why we chose to walk this road together.*

Twenty minutes later, Arkana returned in more comfortable clothes. A black long-sleeved shirt and tailored lounge pants gave him a much warmer appearance. He took his seat across from Aurelia, his eyes sweeping over the beautifully decorated table.

"You did all this?" Arkana asked, looking at his wife.

"Of course. Who else was going to help me?" Aurelia teased, trying to dissolve the lingering awkwardness between them.

The atmosphere immediately softened.

Arkana, who was usually reserved, seemed unusually relaxed that evening. He picked up the navy velvet gift box beside his plate, opened it, and smiled when he saw what was inside.

"How did you know I wanted these?" he asked, glancing between the silver cuff links and Aurelia.

"Because I always pay attention to you," Aurelia replied sincerely.

Arkana slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a rectangular gift box wrapped with a cream satin ribbon. He slid it across the table toward her.

"Happy anniversary, my wife."

Aurelia's heart pounded.

She carefully opened the box. A white gold bracelet with an elegant chain design shimmered beneath the soft candlelight.

"It's beautiful..."

"I had my secretary pick it up in Paris last month. I thought it would look perfect on your wrist."

Arkana reached for her hand, intending to fasten the bracelet around her wrist.

Just as his fingers touched Aurelia's cool skin, a loud vibration shattered the romantic silence.

The phone resting on the marble tabletop buzzed so intensely that it shifted slightly in place. Its screen lit up, displaying a single letter as the caller ID.

**S.**

Arkana's hand froze instantly.

Aurelia felt his fingers tense without warning. The smile that had just appeared on his face vanished, replaced by a clenched jaw.

He didn't answer immediately. He glanced at Aurelia, hesitation flickering across his eyes. But when the phone stopped vibrating only to ring again a second later, he could no longer ignore it. He grabbed the phone and answered.

"Yes?"

His voice was low, but the restrained anxiety in it was unmistakable.

Aurelia remained silent, holding the bracelet that was only halfway secured around her wrist. The room was so quiet that she could faintly hear the voice on the other end of the line. It was a woman, breathing heavily, sounding fragile and distressed.

Arkana shot to his feet.

He moved so abruptly that his dining chair scraped loudly across the floor.

"Okay, I'm on my way. Just wait for me," he said in rapid succession, already striding away from the dining table.

Aurelia sat frozen.

The candle at the center of the table was still burning, but the warmth that had filled the room only moments ago disappeared without a trace. She watched Arkana hurriedly put his black wool coat back on, the same one she had carefully hung up just a little while earlier.

"Arkan?"

Aurelia's voice stopped him just before he reached the front door.

He turned around, his face pale and tense.

"We haven't blown out the candle yet. We haven't cut the cake." Her voice trembled as she fought the lump rising in her throat. "It's only five minutes until midnight."

Arkana gripped the doorknob, his gaze unfocused.

"I'm sorry, Aurelia. There's an urgent emergency at the Queens branch office. I have to go right now."

Aurelia looked straight into her husband's eyes.

The lie stood there, naked and undeniable.

The branch office? At nine o'clock at night? On the evening of their anniversary? And with this kind of panic?

She knew he was hiding something.

But seeing how desperate he seemed to leave, she chose not to question him.

"Then... drive safely," Aurelia murmured, nodding in quiet resignation.

Arkana simply nodded in return before opening the apartment door and disappearing into the cold hallway without looking back.

Time crawled forward.

The clock in the luxurious penthouse now read one o'clock in the morning.

The candle at the center of the table had burned itself out, leaving hardened wax pooled inside its glass holder. The meal that had looked so inviting earlier had long since gone cold.

Aurelia was still sitting in the same chair.

She hadn't touched a single bite of food.

Her empty gaze rested on the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the deepening night. The phone lying beside her plate remained silent, with no messages or missed calls from Arkana.

With a weary sigh, Aurelia finally stood.

There was no point in waiting any longer.

As she took a step toward the bedroom, her phone suddenly buzzed.

A notification appeared on the screen.

It was a post from a local social media account that regularly shared moments from New York's expatriate community, an account followed by several people she knew.

Aurelia stopped in her tracks, her legs suddenly weak.

She opened the notification.

It was a candid photograph taken beneath the glowing red neon sign that read **Emergency Room** outside one of Manhattan's most prestigious hospitals.

In the photo, a man wearing a black wool coat she recognized all too well was holding a pale, exhausted-looking woman in his arms. His strong arm supported her firmly, making sure she wouldn't collapse onto the ground.

Beneath the photo was a short caption.

*"Thank goodness you came tonight. I was so scared to be alone. Thank you for coming."*

The picture had been taken from the side, revealing half of Arkana's face.

His features were filled with deep concern, the same expression he always wore whenever Aurelia was sick.

Aurelia stumbled backward until the back of her legs hit the edge of a chair.

The white gold bracelet Arkana had just given her suddenly felt unbearably heavy around her wrist, more like a shackle than a gift.

In the silence of the night, she could almost hear something inside her crack.

The sound shattered every hope she had carefully built since that morning.

On the very day that was supposed to celebrate their love, he had chosen another woman's embrace, leaving behind every sweet promise on a dining table that had gone cold.

Aurelia hurriedly turned off her phone.

Her heart pounded so violently that her chest ached.

She drew in a deep breath, forcing the tears gathering in her eyes to retreat.

Acting on impulse would solve nothing.

She needed to know who that woman was, what place she held in her husband's life, and just how far Arkana had gone behind her back.

Just before the clock struck one-twenty in the morning, she heard the soft click of the front door unlocking.

Hurried footsteps approached.

Aurelia moved quickly.

Ignoring the crushing weight in her chest, she grabbed a match and relit what remained of the nearly burned-out aromatherapy candle.

When Arkana walked into the dining room, still breathing a little heavily, he found his wife smiling softly in the flickering candlelight.

"You're... still awake?" Arkana asked in surprise, stopping at the edge of the rug.

"I was waiting for you," Aurelia replied, her voice impossibly calm, concealing the storm raging inside her. "We still haven't blown out the candle, Arkan. Let's call this a sweet ending to the day."

Arkana walked over to the table.

He leaned down to blow out the candle Aurelia had just relit.

As he bent forward, the collar of his black shirt slipped slightly.

In the dim glow of the dying flame, Aurelia froze.

There, on the side of her husband's neck, was a faint reddish mark.

It was far too familiar to be dismissed as a simple scratch.

The blood drained from Aurelia's face.

A sharp pain pierced her chest, far more agonizing than the photograph she had seen on social media.

Yet beneath the table, she clenched her hands so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.

She refused to lose control tonight.

She needed the whole truth, not a confession forced out in the heat of the moment.