My Coldhearted Husband’s Regret

After breakfast, Veronica retreated to their shared room to prepare for the hot spring getaway. She methodically folded her clothes into neat piles, selecting only what she needed for herself. Her hands moved with practiced efficiency, but she deliberately avoided Cullen's side of the closet.

They might share a bed and a last name, but their marriage had become nothing more than legal paperwork. Cullen belonged to Niall now, heart and soul, and Veronica refused to blur those carefully drawn boundaries by handling his personal belongings. The thought of touching his clothes, of being that intimate even in such a mundane way, made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

Down the hall, she could hear Sabrina's animated chatter as Chelsea helped her pack. In the past, Veronica would have hovered nearby, double-checking that Sabrina hadn't forgotten her medications or favorite pajamas. She would have made lists and worried endlessly about every detail. Now, she simply zipped her own suitcase closed and headed downstairs without a backward glance.

The indifference felt strange, like wearing clothes that didn't quite fit.

Veronica waited in the marble foyer, her luggage at her feet, watching dust motes dance in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the tall windows. Eventually, Cullen and Sabrina appeared at the top of the staircase, their voices carrying down as they discussed something she couldn't quite hear.

The drive to the hot spring resort passed in relative silence, with only Sabrina's occasional comments about the scenery breaking the tension that seemed to fill every enclosed space she and Cullen shared these days.

Once they arrived at the secluded mountain retreat, Cullen immediately excused himself to take what he claimed was an urgent business call. Veronica suspected it was Niall on the other end of that conversation, but she pushed the thought away as she began unpacking in their assigned room.

She was hanging her dresses in the cedar-lined closet when Cook appeared in the doorway, holding an elegantly wrapped box tied with silver ribbon.

"Cullen selected this especially for you," Cook announced, her eyes twinkling with barely contained mischief. "Make sure you wear it when you visit the hot springs tonight."

The knowing expression on Cook's face made Veronica's cheeks flush warm. She accepted the box reluctantly, feeling its weight in her hands. "That's very thoughtful, but I brought my own swimwear."

"Don't be stubborn, dear. It's perfectly appropriate, I assure you." Cook's tone brooked no argument. "Open it if you don't believe me."

Veronica lifted the lid carefully, revealing delicate tissue paper that concealed a bikini in deep crimson. The fabric felt expensive between her fingers, and the cut was surprisingly conservative, similar to styles she typically chose for herself. Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

Cook chuckled at her obvious relief. "See? Nothing scandalous. Just remember to put it on."

Veronica nodded slowly, still examining the swimwear. "Of course."

At that moment, Cullen's voice echoed in the hallway as he ended his call. His footsteps approached their room, and Veronica instinctively snapped the box shut, pressing it against her chest. When he appeared in the doorway, his gaze briefly flickered to the box before he looked away with studied casualness.

"Did you need something, Grandma?" Cullen asked, loosening his tie with one hand.

Cook practically beamed at him. "I'm here to make sure you both enjoy the hot springs, naturally." She gave his shoulder a playful shove. "Go change. The evening is perfect for soaking."

Cullen hesitated for a moment, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly, but he didn't protest. He disappeared into the bathroom and emerged minutes later wearing a charcoal gray robe that made his dark hair look even more striking.

Veronica waited until he left the room before she gathered her courage and entered the bathroom herself. The mirror reflected her flushed face as she opened the box again, and her breath caught in her throat.

She had only examined the bikini top earlier, assuming the bottom would be equally modest. But as she held up the lower piece, she realized how wrong she had been. The cut was far more daring than anything in her usual wardrobe, designed to emphasize rather than conceal. The crimson fabric seemed to shimmer under the bathroom lights, and the material felt almost sinfully soft against her palm.

When she finally put it on and studied her reflection, Veronica barely recognized herself. The color made her pale skin look luminous, and the fit accentuated curves she usually kept hidden beneath conservative clothing. She looked like someone else entirely, someone bold and confident and utterly foreign to her usual self.

Wrapping herself securely in her white terry cloth robe, she stepped back into the bedroom to find it empty. Cullen had vanished again, probably already at the hot springs.

"There you are," Cook called from the hallway, appearing as if she had been waiting. Her smile held secrets. "Cullen is in the smaller spring to the left. You should join him quickly, before the temperature drops too much."

Veronica's pulse quickened. The left spring was tiny, barely large enough for two people to sit comfortably without their knees touching. If they both relaxed fully in the mineral-rich water, contact would be inevitable.

Cook was orchestrating this encounter deliberately, creating an intimate setting where a husband and wife might naturally find themselves drawn together. Under normal circumstances, the combination of warm water, minimal clothing, and forced proximity might spark the kind of passion that could reignite a marriage.

But their circumstances were anything but normal.

Still, Cook's expectant expression left no room for refusal, so Veronica made her way through the resort's winding stone pathways toward the secluded spring tucked behind a grove of bamboo.

Steam rose from the natural pool like incense, and she could see Cullen's silhouette through the mist. He had already shed his robe and settled into the water, his head tilted back against the smooth rocks with his eyes closed. The picture he made was almost artistic, all clean lines and masculine grace.

The sound of her approaching footsteps made him open his eyes and turn in her direction.

Veronica's fingers trembled slightly as she untied her robe, acutely aware of his gaze tracking her movements. The crimson bikini felt even more revealing under his scrutiny, and she wondered if Cook had chosen this particular color knowing exactly how it would affect the atmosphere between them.

The hot spring suddenly felt much smaller than thirty square feet.