My Coldhearted Husband’s Regret

The Murray family had never been ones to celebrate the Bloom Celebration into the early hours. By the time Veronica and her family returned home, Mary had already retired for the night.

Midnight struck just as Veronica climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Her phone had been buzzing incessantly with notifications. Celebration wishes poured in from Dario, Marco, several colleagues at DataPulse, and even Doran and Maxwell. She took her time responding to each message, not forgetting Marco, before sending her own heartfelt greetings to Malcolm and Whitney.

Doran messaged again while she was finishing up. He explained that work had kept him too busy to properly thank her for her help, and now that he had some free time, he wanted to treat her to a meal. After completing her conversation with Doran, Veronica set her phone aside and headed for a much-needed shower.

The Murray family's visits to Rose always carried an undercurrent of pain. Yet on a significant day like the Bloom Celebration, how could they possibly stay away?

Every year followed the same ritual—on the first morning of the festival, Veronica and Mary would prepare a lavish feast, carefully pack it, and deliver it to the nursing home. This year was no exception to their tradition.

So as dawn broke on the first day of Bloom Celebration, Veronica was already up. When she descended the stairs, she found Mary, Phillip, and Poppy already awake and waiting.

Upon seeing her, both Mary and Poppy presented her with beautifully wrapped gift boxes. Mary lovingly cupped Veronica's face between her weathered hands. "June everything go smoothly for you this year, Ver," she said, her voice warm with affection.

"Thank you, Granny," Veronica replied, touched by the gesture.

After they finished breakfast, Veronica and Poppy moved to the kitchen to begin preparing the ingredients for their feast. Though both Mary and Phillip were accomplished cooks in their own right, when it came to making food for Rose, they could only serve as assistants. Rose had an uncanny ability to identify who had prepared her food, and the wrong cook could trigger one of her episodes.

For years, this responsibility had fallen to Poppy. As Veronica grew older and learned her way around a kitchen, she gradually began sharing this duty with her mother.

In truth, Veronica had wanted to cook for Rose since she was a little girl. But Mary had been firm in her refusal, believing Veronica was too young to shoulder such an emotional burden. Her childhood had already been marked by enough hardship; Mary was determined that she should experience as much joy as possible without being constantly tethered to painful memories.

Two hours later, the table was laden with dishes. Adrian and Thomas helped pack everything carefully into containers.

With festival gifts in hand, all six family members made their way to the nursing home. They had thoughtfully prepared small tokens of appreciation for the doctors and nurses who cared for Rose throughout the year.

Rose remained as fragile as ever, her gaze distant and unfocused. The Murray family positioned themselves where she couldn't see them, watching with heavy hearts as she showed no reaction to the gifts the medical staff presented on their behalf.

When the nurse placed Mary's carefully chosen gift box in Rose's hands, she barely acknowledged it. After giving it a cursory glance, she simply let it drop to the floor as if it held no significance whatsoever.

Her appetite was minimal. Despite the feast laid before her—dishes prepared with love and care—she showed little interest. Only when the nurse spooned a few bites into her bowl did she make any attempt to eat.

Before she had even tried each dish, her attention drifted away, and she retreated once more into the private sanctuary of her mind. The nurse sighed softly as she cleared away the largely untouched meal.

Veronica felt the familiar sting of tears forming, but she blinked them back determinedly. She didn't want to cast a pall over the day for the others. But in truth, they all felt the same sorrow she did.

After spending thirty minutes in Rose's presence, the family quietly took their leave, carrying with them the weight of unspoken grief.