Lucas stayed on his feet long after everyone else had left.
The room emptied out bit by bit—laughter faded, high heels clicked away, conversations slipped into the background buzz of staff cleaning up. But Lucas didn't move. He kept staring at the spot where Evelyn had stood, like if he waited long enough, she'd just appear again.
She didn't.
He never spoke to her.
He hadn't found the words.
That stung more than he'd expected.
Evelyn always did the talking before. She'd break the silence, smooth over awkwardness, make sure there was always some reason—some excuse—for them to connect.
Tonight, there was nothing.
Lucas gave the organizers a quick nod and left. He slid into the car waiting outside, the familiar smell of leather and the dim glass doing nothing for the ache in his chest.
"Home," he muttered.
The city lights blurred past. He glanced at his phone once. Then again.
Still nothing.
No "Where are you?"
No reminder about dinner.
No quiet, practical check-in.
The mansion was silent when he walked in.
He tossed his keys onto the console and yanked his tie loose, heat prickling at his skin. He paced through the rooms, flicking on lights, opening doors—restless, irritated.
Everything looked the same.
But none of it felt right.
He poured another drink, though his old glass still sat there, half-finished. He stared at the whiskey for a while, then set the bottle down.
Didn't want it.
That annoyed him even more.
He headed for the study, ready to lose himself in work. That always worked before. Contracts didn't walk away. Numbers didn't leave.
He opened a drawer and stopped.
A thin folder sat at the back.
Their marriage certificate.
He frowned, pulling it out, surprised by how heavy it felt. He hadn't looked at it in years. Barely even thought about it—except as paperwork.
Back then, it felt like the right call.
Evelyn had always seemed calm. Smart. Capable. She fit into his life so easily, never asking for more than he could handle. Or at least, that's what Lucas told himself.
He sank into the leather chair, and it groaned under his weight. He flipped open the folder.
Two names stared back at him.
Lucas Vale.
Evelyn Hart.
He remembered the day they signed. No big speeches. No dramatic gestures. Just a quiet agreement. Stability. A sense of partnership.
At least, that's what he liked to call it.
He shut his eyes for a second.
When did it fall apart?
No—wrong question.
When did he stop putting in the effort?
He didn't have to dig for the answer.
The moment it got easy.
His phone buzzed on the desk. He looked at it without really thinking, then frowned at the name on the screen.
His mother.
You should make a public statement soon. A divorced man shouldn't appear unsettled. We can arrange introductions. It's time to move on.
Lucas stared at the message.
Move on.
Like Evelyn was just a bump in the road. Like the last three years were nothing but a temporary detour.
He flipped the phone face down.
For the first time, that idea made him sick.
He leaned back, rubbing his temples while the last few days replayed in his head.
Evelyn sliding the papers across the table—steady, unshaken.
Evelyn letting his call go to voicemail, not even hesitating.
Evelyn tonight, standing tall in a room full of people who clearly respected her.
She wasn't angry.
She wasn't shattered.
She looked... free.
That landed harder than any accusation ever could.
Lucas let out a slow breath.
He'd thought love meant providing. Keeping things steady. Protecting her.
He thought she didn't need reassurance, that if she was quiet, she was content.
He'd gotten it all wrong.
And for once, that truth didn't sting like an attack. It just felt honest.
He got up and wandered over to the window. City lights stretched out forever, a view that used to make him feel powerful, anchored. Tonight it felt far away.
He pictured Evelyn's apartment—small, bright, unmistakably her own.
She picked herself.
That thought sat in his chest, sharp and heavy.
His phone buzzed again. Another message from his mother.
He let it ring.
Instead, another thought crept in—soft but stubborn.
What if she never comes back?
That question squeezed something inside him.
He'd signed the papers without a second thought, certain he wasn't losing anything that mattered.
Now—
Now he got it.
The divorce didn't end their marriage.
It revealed it.
Lucas Vale stood in a house that suddenly felt too big, and something new and heavy settled over him.
Regret.
And it was just getting started.