The Billionaire Regretted Losing His Invisible Wife novel Chapter 419

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Chapter 419 Keep them

Mia’s POV

I walked toward the terrace doors, and the crowd parted before me like water around a stone. A few people had that particular look, that said they’d witnessed the entire pool incident and were already cornposing the story they’d tell at brunch tomorrow.

But I found I didn’t care.

The terrace was quieter than the pavilion, and the air felt cooler against my damp skin. The music was still audible through the glass doors.

Kyle stood at the railing with his back turned to me. He’d changed into dry clothes–a’dark shirt that hung on his frame, outlining the angles of his shoulders. His hair was still damp, pushed back from his face in a way that looked hasty. A few drops of water still clung to the ends, catching the lamplight when he moved, creating small points of brightness that seemed almost fragile against the darkness beyond the terrace.

He didn’t turn around when I approached, but I watched his shoulders tense.

“Kyle,” I said.

He turned slowly.

His face was exhausted.

His eyes found mine and held them there, steady despite everything.

The space between us felt enormous, like an ocean I’d have to cross. But at the same time it felt too small, as though we were standing closer than physics should allow.

I walked closer to him, measuring each step, until I stopped about a foot away. The distance was close enough that I could see his face properly–could count the water droplets still clinging to his eyelashes, could see the way his chest rose and fell with each careful breath. But it was still far enough that we weren’t touching, that there was still air between us, still that crucial

separation.

“You look like shit,” I said.

His mouth twitched in a way that might have been the beginning of a smile if he’d had the energy to finish it. “You look better than you did ten minutes ago.”

“That’s a low bar.”

“It’s still true.”

I held up my hand and opened my palm slowly, deliberately. The rings sat there in the center, catching the light from the terrace lamps and throwing back small glints of gold that seemed almost alive.

“Why do you have these?” I asked.

“You know why.”

“No. I don’t.” I stared at the rings as I spoke, unable to meet his eyes just yet. “I threw my ring away. Five years ago. I threw it out the window into the backyard of our house. It should be gone. Lost. Buried in grass somewhere, or carried away by some bird to line its nest.”

“I found it.”

“When?”

“The next morning. Before you woke up.”

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My breath caught in my throat, trapped there like something with wings.

“I found it by the fence. Near the roses.”

“Why?”

“Because you threw it away.”

“So?”

“So I just found it.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I said.

“It does to me.”

I looked at the rings again, studying the way they reflected light, noticing the familiar scratches and dents that had accumulated over the years we’d worn them–little histories etched into the gold.

“And yours?” I asked. “Why do you still have yours?”

“Same reason.”

“That’s not an answer.”

His jaw tightened in that way it did when he was holding something back. “It’s the only answer I have.”

“Kyle-”

“I kept them because I couldn’t throw them away.” The words came out in a rush now, as though he’d been holding them in for too long. “Because even when we were divorced. Even when you hated me. I couldn’t let go of the only physical proof that we were ever married. Is that what you want to hear?”

His voice had gotten quieter as he spoke, and rougher, like grayel under bare feet.

I closed my hand around the rings, feeling the metal warming against my palm, absorbing the heat from my skin.

“This is insane,” I said.

“Probably.”

I felt the tears start before I could stop them.

The tears were running down my face now, hot against my cold skin. When had I started crying? I couldn’t remember.

“You’re an idiot,” I said.

“I know.”

“A complete fucking idiot.”

“I know that too.”

“You almost died for two rings we haven’t worn in five years.”

“Yes.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Probably.”

I looked at the rings again, watching the way they caught the light, seeing the history etched into the gold every scratch, every dent.

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“I can’t do this,” I said quietly “I’m so tired, Kyle. I’m so goddamn tired of everything.”

He stepped closer, just one step. Now I could feel the warmth coming off him.

Behind us, a door opened and music spilled out for a moment–bright and brassy and full of life. Then the door closed again, muting everything, sealing us back into our quiet bubble.

I opened my hand and looked at the rings one more time, seeing them gleam in the lamplight.

Then I held them out to him, my arm extending across the space between us.

“Keep them,” I said.

“What?”

“Keep them. They’re yours. They’ve always been yours.”

He didn’t take them right away. He just stared at my outstretched hand as though I was offering him something far more complicated than two simple gold bands.

“Mia-”

“I’m serious. Keep them. Put them in a drawer. Throw them away. Do whatever you want. But I can’t–” My voice cracked like ice breaking. “I can’t carry them anymore. I can’t carry any of this anymore.”

His hand came up slowly, so slowly I could track every inch of movement, and his fingers brushed mine as he took the rings from my palm. The touch was brief but electric, sending a small shock through my system.

The rings disappeared into his pocket, vanishing from sight.

“Okay,” he said quietly.

“Okay.”

We stood there together, not touching, not speaking, just existing in the same space while the night air moved around us and the distant party continued its celebration of love and commitment and all the things we’d failed to hold onto.

“You should go,” he said finally. “Take the kids home. Get some sleep.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not fine. You look like you can barely stand.”

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