My Coldhearted Husband’s Regret

Sabrina hastily closed her WhatsApp chat the moment Veronica appeared in the doorway. The screen went dark with a quick swipe, but not fast enough to completely hide her secretive conversation.

Veronica caught the movement from the corner of her eye but chose to ignore it. No point in making an issue out of whatever teenage drama Sabrina was navigating these days.

"Get yourself cleaned up and dressed," Veronica said, her voice carrying the practiced authority of years of motherhood. "We need to leave soon."

Sabrina bounced up from the bed with renewed energy. "Give me fifteen minutes!"

While Sabrina disappeared into the bathroom, Veronica methodically gathered her belongings from around the guest room. Each item she packed felt like another step toward severing ties with this house that had never quite felt like home.

As she headed toward the staircase, she encountered Chelsea in the hallway. The housekeeper was bundling up the silk pajamas Veronica had worn the previous night, along with some toiletries left on the dresser.

"Chelsea, don't bother with the washing," Veronica said, her tone matter-of-fact. "Just dispose of all of it."

Chelsea paused, a questioning look crossing her weathered features.

"Everything I've left behind," Veronica continued, gesturing vaguely toward the guest room. "I won't have use for any of it going forward."

The divorce papers would be signed within days. After that, there would be no reason to return to this house, not even for Sabrina's sake. They could meet elsewhere, anywhere but here. These remnants of her life with Cullen had already become relics of a marriage that existed only on paper.

Chelsea had worked for the family long enough to read between the lines. She'd witnessed the gradual deterioration of the relationship between Veronica and Cullen over the past year. The way Veronica's visits had become increasingly sporadic, the tension that crackled in the air whenever they occupied the same room, and most tellingly, Cullen's decision to have Veronica's personal items removed from the master bedroom just weeks ago.

This latest request from Veronica simply confirmed what Chelsea had already suspected.

"Of course, Mrs. Bishop," Chelsea replied quietly, though something in her voice suggested she understood the finality of the gesture.

Veronica made her way downstairs, her heels clicking against the hardwood steps. As she reached the bottom, the front door opened and Cullen entered, still breathing heavily from his morning run. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and his athletic shirt clung to his chest.

He looked up and their eyes met briefly. "Morning," he said, his voice carefully neutral.

"Good morning," Veronica replied with equal politeness, as if they were acquaintances rather than two people who had once shared a bed and dreams of a future together.

She set her purse on the leather sofa and walked toward the kitchen, leaving Cullen to head upstairs for his shower. The choreography of their avoidance had become so practiced it felt almost natural.

In the kitchen, Veronica began preparing breakfast, though Chelsea quickly intervened, insisting she handle the cooking. Veronica retreated to the living room, settling into an armchair with a professional journal she'd brought along.

The morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the pages as she read about the latest developments in artificial intelligence research. The technical language provided a welcome distraction from the emotional undercurrents swirling around the house.

Twenty minutes passed, and Sabrina still hadn't appeared. Veronica glanced at her watch, feeling the familiar tug of impatience. In the past, she would have marched upstairs herself to hurry Sabrina along, but something held her back now. The maternal urgency that had once driven her to personally handle every aspect of Sabrina's routine had dulled to a more distant concern.

"Chelsea," she called toward the kitchen, "would you mind checking on Sabrina? We really do need to get going."

Chelsea nodded and disappeared upstairs, leaving Veronica alone with her thoughts and the journal.

"Something new?"

Cullen's voice startled her. She hadn't heard him come back downstairs, freshly showered and dressed in casual clothes that still managed to look expensive.

She glanced up from the article she'd been reading. "Yes, the latest issue."

He extended his hand toward her. "Mind if I have a look?"

Veronica hesitated, studying his face. "Don't you have a subscription? I assumed you'd already have this."

It was a reasonable assumption. During the early days of their marriage, when she was still trying to understand his world and find common ground between them, she'd noticed his study was filled with AI journals and technical publications. He'd seemed to devour every new development in the field with an almost obsessive hunger.

"I've been swamped lately," Cullen explained, his hand still outstretched. "Sanctuary't had time to keep up with the reading."

The sound of footsteps on the stairs announced Sabrina's arrival. Veronica handed the journal to Cullen just as their daughter bounded into the living room, her hair still slightly damp from her shower.

"Is breakfast ready?" Sabrina asked, grabbing Veronica's hand with the easy affection that came so naturally to children.

"It should be," Veronica replied, allowing herself to be pulled toward the dining room.

As they settled at the polished mahogany table, Cullen joined them, still carrying the journal. Chelsea had outdone herself with the spread: fresh fruit, perfectly scrambled eggs, artisanal toast, and coffee that filled the room with its rich aroma.

They ate in relative silence, the quiet punctuated only by the soft clink of silverware against china and Sabrina's occasional chatter about her plans for the day. It was a peaceful scene that might have appeared normal to an outside observer, but Veronica could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

Halfway through the meal, Cullen's phone buzzed against the table. He glanced at the screen, then set down his fork to respond to whatever message had arrived. His fingers moved quickly across the keyboard, his attention completely absorbed by the device.

Veronica continued eating methodically, finishing most of her breakfast while Cullen remained engrossed in his phone. She rose from the table without ceremony, gathering her things from the living room. The journal Cullen had been reading lay forgotten on the coffee table, and she slipped it back into her bag.

Sabrina finished her last bite of toast and jumped up to join her mother. "Ready when you are, Mom."

Veronica slung her purse over her shoulder and headed toward the door. Cullen was still at the dining table, phone in hand, seemingly oblivious to their departure.

The morning air was crisp as they stepped outside, and Veronica felt a strange sense of relief wash over her. Another visit completed, another small step toward the new life that awaited her on the other side of the divorce papers.