I forced a smile, keeping my tone light. “I understand. Work comes first. I won’t eat without you.”
Relief washed over his face as he smiled back. “You’re the best, honey. I knew you’d understand.”
He hesitated, then added, “My car needs to turn around for the office. Could you take a taxi back on your own?”
I nodded, meeting his gaze, but his eyes darted away guiltily.
“Okay,” I said softly, watching him breathe a sigh of relief.
He kissed my forehead softly. "Honey, I’ll definitely come back early," he promised.
I simply smiled, stepped out of the car, and watched as his Maybach sped off—not toward the office, but toward the French restaurant.
That night, Killian didn’t return home until two in the morning. He moved quietly, tie in hand, his shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing a hint of disheveled carelessness.
When he turned on the light, his expression shifted to surprise as he found me sitting in the living room, wide awake.
He had once proudly declared at public events, "The true measure of a man isn’t just in his success, but in coming home to a light that’s been left on for him."
But tonight, faced with that very light, his first reaction was panic.
“H-honey, why are you still up?” he stammered, clearly caught off guard.
I picked up a small black box and held it out. “The maid found this while cleaning today. She wasn’t sure what to do with it, so she asked me to take a look.”
The box was worn, the edges frayed, and its surface dulled with age.
Killian’s slightly drunken gaze cleared, his eyes sharpening as they landed on the box. “This! This is from our college days, when we were dating!”
He hurried over, his excitement palpable, and sat beside me. Eagerly, he opened the box, revealing a collection of small, sentimental items—fragments of our shared history.
“This stack of movie tickets,” he said, picking them up reverently, “these are from every movie we watched together. I couldn’t bear to throw a single one away.”
He chuckled, a wistful smile crossing his face. “I remember one of those movie dates so clearly. I was so nervous. I wanted to hold your hand but didn’t dare, so when I finally did, I couldn’t focus on the movie at all.”
“And this paper rose—this was the first gift you gave me,” Killian said, holding the fragile keepsake gently. “Though, calling it a gift might be a stretch. You folded it, tossed it on the table, and I picked it up.”