Too Late to Say Sorry novel Chapter 2

The aroma of Mark's favorite dishes, the ones I'd meticulously prepared for our failed birthday celebration, mocked me as I tossed the last of the cake in the trash.

He'd promised a special night, a night just for us. So, like the lovestruck fool I was, I bought the expensive wine he liked, even picked out a new dress. I should have known better.

He finally strolled in around 2 AM, smelling of expensive cologne and someone else's perfume. "Starving! Amelia, where's my dinner?"

I didn't bother looking up from the dishes. Mark had the palate of a pampered child and the stomach of a hummingbird. In the past, him uttering the word "hungry" was all it took. I'd drop everything, even if it meant burning dinner or missing a deadline, just to cater to him.

Not anymore.

He sat down at the table, that same irritated crease forming between his brows, the one that used to make me want to smooth away all his troubles.

As I scraped the last plate, I asked, "Didn't you eat out?"

He just laughed, a humorless, condescending sound, and pulled a velvet box out of his pocket. "Think I forgot your birthday? Don't be silly. Jess picked this out for you. You should really try to be nicer to her, Amelia. She's got great taste, I'll give her that."

One look at the ring inside the box was all it took. The same one Jessica was wearing. Meant for me, but clearly a second choice, a consolation prize after she'd had her pick.

"Give it back to Jessica," I said, my voice flat, devoid of the emotion that used to make him uncomfortable.

He frowned, those perfectly sculpted eyebrows furrowing in that way that used to make my heart skip a beat. Now, all it inspired was annoyance.

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm trying to be nice."

"It means I don't want your hand-me-downs."

"Amelia, enough! Why can't you be more like Jessica? She's always so… thoughtful." He sighed, a dramatic, put-upon sigh that used to send me rushing to his side.

"Give it to your precious Jessica," I repeated, shoving the velvet box towards him, my hand surprisingly steady. "It probably smells like her cheap perfume anyway."

That's when I saw a flash of the man I used to love. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he might actually hit me.

"Don't push me, Amelia! You know I'll file those papers."

He was breathing hard, his chest heaving, but the threat in his voice lacked its usual bite. It was as if a part of him, a tiny, flickering part, knew he was bluffing.

"Then do it," I said, meeting his gaze head-on, my voice devoid of the fear that had kept me chained to him for far too long.

The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

Finally, he looked away, defeated. The ring box slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the silence.