My Coldhearted Husband’s Regret

Since Sabrina would likely spend the Bloom Celebration at Dennis Estate, Mary felt a pang of reluctance mingled with concern for Veronica. But Veronica maintained her composure, reassuring her grandmother with a gentle smile.

"Granny, don't worry about me. As long as Sa is happy, that's what matters most," she said, her voice steady and warm.

Mary wasn't convinced. Behind Veronica's serene expression, she sensed the quiet resignation of a mother preparing to spend another holiday without her daughter. With a soft sigh, Mary dropped the subject, knowing that pressing further would only deepen wounds still raw beneath the surface.

After breakfast, Veronica and Poppy ventured into town to purchase festival goods. The shopping district had transformed overnight into a wonderland of decorations. Colorful lanterns hung from storefronts, festive music drifted through the air, and the streets bustled with excited shoppers. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation for the upcoming celebrations.

Most of their festival necessities were already stocked at home. Today's excursion was merely to gather the few remaining items they'd overlooked during their previous shopping trip.

Children darted through the crowds in traditional festival cotton outfits, their faces alight with joy as they waved luminous wands that sparkled in the morning sun. Veronica stopped in her tracks, her attention captured by a little girl who skipped past, her cotton dress swirling around her tiny legs.

The sight transported Veronica to holidays past. Before the divorce, she would buy Sabrina two or three sets of these festive outfits each year. Her daughter would beam with delight, twirling to show off the colorful fabrics. The light wands were Sabrina's absolute favorites – she would spend entire evenings carrying one around, a candle flickering inside, enchanted by its soft glow for hours on end.

But that was two years ago – a lifetime, it seemed. One Bloom Celebration had passed with Sabrina abroad with Cullen. And last year, when she had returned, everything had changed. Sabrina had scrunched her nose at the traditional outfits, declaring them "tacky" and refusing to wear them.

Veronica hadn't pushed. Instead, she'd selected other clothes she thought her daughter might like, modern pieces that matched Sabrina's evolving tastes. But those too had been rejected, left untouched in their shopping bags. Eventually, Veronica realized the painful truth: it wasn't about the clothes. Sabrina simply didn't want anything chosen by her mother.

With a nearly imperceptible sigh, Veronica pulled herself back to the present and quickened her pace to catch up with Mary and Poppy, who had continued ahead without noticing her momentary lapse into memories.

Her phone buzzed with messages from Thomas and Adrian. They had learned that the women were out shopping and eagerly requested Veronica purchase extra fireworks for a display they planned in the garden that evening.

A smile softened her features as she typed back a simple "Okay."

During her marriage to Cullen, holidays had been lonely affairs. He was rarely in Porter, constantly traveling for business even during festive seasons. Despite his absence, she had faithfully taken Sabrina to Dennis Estate each year for the Bloom Celebration.

Now, with a jolt of realization, she counted the years. Seven. It had been seven years since she last celebrated the Bloom Celebration with the Murray family. The thought left a bittersweet taste in her mouth – how quickly time slipped away, reshaping lives and relationships with its passage.

As she put away her phone, preparing to purchase the fireworks, it rang. Dario's name flashed on the screen.

"I've bought some high-quality fireworks," he told her. "I'm sending a selection over to you."

"Thank you, Dario," Veronica replied, genuinely touched by the gesture. From his description, he had purchased more than enough, eliminating her need to buy any.

Moments later, her phone rang again. Marco's name appeared on the display, causing her to hesitate briefly before answering.

"Mr. Valerie," she greeted, her tone carefully neutral.

"I ordered special fireworks a while back," Marco's deep voice came through the line. "Cecelia suggested I send some to you. Text me your address, and I'll have them delivered."

Veronica instinctively began to decline. "Mr. Valerie, there's no need—"

"Then perhaps you should call Cecelia yourself and tell her that," he interrupted, a hint of challenge in his voice.

After a brief silence, Veronica relented. "Please thank Cecelia for me," she said softly, recognizing the kindness behind the gesture, however complicated the messenger might be.