The Lies Behind Her Marriage novel Chapter 46

**Chapter 46: Regret**

Regret.

In the marital home of Serena and Nathaniel, a somber atmosphere enveloped the room, thick with unspoken words and lingering memories.

Nathaniel stood before the closet in their master bedroom, the door creaking open as he revealed the garments that hung inside. His gaze lingered on each piece of clothing, every single item a carefully chosen gift from him to her. The sight of the dresses, blouses, and skirts stirred a whirlwind of emotions within him.

Serena had left them behind on purpose, a silent testament to their shattered bond.

His heart tightened painfully as his fingers brushed against the delicate fabric of a gown, one he had commissioned for their third anniversary—a celebration that now felt like a cruel joke. “You must have hated me so much,” he murmured softly, the words escaping his lips as if they carried the weight of his despair.

A lump formed in his throat, constricting his breath, and he fought against the swell of sorrow that threatened to engulf him. His eyes stung with unshed tears, and before he could muster the strength to hold them back, one slipped down his cheek. He wiped it away with a fierce swipe, but soon, more followed, trailing down his face like a silent acknowledgment of his grief.

With a heavy heart, he closed the closet door and moved to the bed, sinking onto the side where Serena used to lie, the side that faced the windows. He hoped that perhaps the familiar contours of the mattress would offer some solace, but the emptiness was overwhelming.

When that failed to provide any comfort, he turned his gaze to the ceiling above, a vast expanse of white that mirrored the void he felt inside.

A month had slipped by since the tragic disappearance of Eastwind Air 1061, and still, there was no sign of the passengers. The last diving expedition had yielded only the tail of the aircraft, a grim reminder of the lives that had been aboard. The authorities now had the black box, and they were delving into the mystery of what had transpired that fateful day.

Yet, despite their efforts, not a single passenger had been recovered, no bodies, no survivors. Deep down, Nathaniel grappled with a harsh reality he wished he could deny:

Serena might truly be gone.

A profound ache pierced through him, and instinctively, he pressed a hand against his chest, as if he could somehow quell the torment within.

“Serena,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Your punishment… it’s too cruel.”

This time, he didn’t resist the tears. They flowed freely, a quiet cascade that soaked into the pillow beside him, a testament to his anguish.

Sleep eluded him.

It was a futile endeavor.

Earlier that evening, at his mother’s house, he had downed two bottles of wine, desperate for a moment of numbness, a fleeting escape from the relentless pain. But the hurt remained, sharp and unyielding, a constant reminder of his loss.

Even now, despite the exhaustion that weighed heavily on his body and the emotional strain that stretched his heart thin, rest was a distant dream.

His thoughts spiraled back to the day he had uttered the word “divorce.”

The day he had allowed her to walk away.

Tonight, he was supposed to meet his closest friends. They had rallied together, hoping to lift his spirits with a night out at a private club.

Gavin drove him toward the club, but a sudden traffic jam forced them to take a detour. To Nathaniel’s surprise, they passed by a familiar counseling center.

North Crest Recovery & Counseling Center.

A flood of memories crashed over him, bringing back the image of a ten-year-old Nathaniel Collins, grappling with the trauma of his father’s death. It was within those very walls that he had received therapy just months before fleeing Velmon City to escape the clutches of Victor Kline’s men.

“Stop. Stop here, Gavin,” Nathaniel commanded, his heart racing.

Gavin pulled over in front of the therapy center, and Nathaniel checked the time, noting that it was still half an hour before five in the afternoon. Without hesitation, he stepped out of the car and entered the building.

At the reception desk, he addressed the receptionist, “Is Doctor Lin available? I would like to have a session with her.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, but we are about to close. I can schedule you for tomorrow instead,” the receptionist replied kindly. Just then, Dr. Lin emerged from her office, her handbag in hand, indicating she was preparing to leave.

Nathaniel turned to the doctor, urgency in his voice. “Dr. Lin, I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m—”

“Nathaniel Collins. I remember you,” she interjected, her expression softening. “I saw the news. Your family has changed last names.”