His First Love Came Back , So I Walked Away

I'd been married to my dependable, steady husband for three years, and in all that time, he never once figured out how to be romantic. He didn't even get me gifts on holidays.

Everyone around me said the same thing:

Morris has a PhD, a great job, and he's loyal. He'd never cheat. Isn't that enough?

I told myself the same thing. But the very next day, I walked past an upscale restaurant and saw him inside, hosting a welcome-back dinner for his first love, who'd just returned from overseas.

Beautiful flowers and wrapped gifts covered the table. Morris's face, usually so cool and detached, was lit with a warmth I had never seen directed at me.

That night, I went through every file on his computer and found a secret blog account.

The last post was dated the day Cassandra Summers left the country. Thousands of entries filled the page, tender words and photographs documenting every detail of their story together.

So Morris Matthews wasn't born cold after all. When it came to the person he truly loved, he burned.

I accepted the truth that he had never loved me, picked up my phone, and called my business partner.

"I'll do it. I'll help open the overseas market. I'm going abroad with you."

Morris, who always came home on time, didn't walk through the door until eleven that night.

He saw me and blinked, a flicker of surprise quickly smoothed away.

"You're still up?"

I said nothing. He sighed and came over to hold me.

"Regina Swanson, there was a data error in the experiment today. I really couldn't leave."

"I'll come home early tomorrow and cook. We can celebrate your birthday then, make up for it. Okay?"

The arm draped around my waist was stiff. The scent of perfume clung to him, faint but unmistakable.

"Oh, so you do remember it's my birthday."

A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, and I pulled myself out of his arms.

Last year on my birthday, I'd told him in advance that I'd booked a restaurant. He never showed.

Three hours I sat there before he finally picked up the phone.

"Why were you waiting for me? Was today something special?"

The impatience in his voice was unmistakable. He'd completely forgotten, and somehow I was the one wasting his time.

He'd known all along. The only reason he offered to make it up to me tonight was guilt.

And even that guilty offer wasn't a fraction of what he'd prepared for Cassandra.

Something clenched hard in my chest, a pain so sharp it almost took my breath.

"Regina, what's your problem?"

"I already said I'd make it up to you. What more do you want?"

Morris's brow furrowed tight, as though I were the unreasonable one, the one who didn't know how to be considerate.

In all these years, I had rarely bothered him or disrupted his work.

I was about to speak when his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, and the tension in his face melted away. He answered almost instantly.

"Morris, I think I have a fever. I feel so weak..."

The soft, helpless voice carried clearly through the quiet room.

I watched his pupils contract. He grabbed his jacket and turned for the door without a second thought, as if he'd forgotten his wife was standing right there.

"Cassandra, I'm taking you to the hospital. Get dressed and wait for me. I'll be there soon."

He hung up, pulled a bank card from the wallet on the shoe cabinet, and rushed toward the door.

"Morris."

I called his name.

He paused mid-step.

"Regina, Cassandra just got back to the country. I'm the only friend she has here."

"Don't be difficult. Don't read into this."

And then he left without looking back.

The lock clicked shut, and my mind went white.

Three months ago, I'd come down with acute appendicitis. The pain woke me at dawn, so severe I couldn't sit up.

I grabbed Morris's hand and begged him to take me to the hospital. He shook me off.

"Regina, I have to travel with my advisor today. This project is important."

"I'll call my mom for you. Just lie down and wait."

I didn't know when I'd passed out. By the time I came to, I was already in the hospital.

My mother was complaining:

"You just had surgery and he still has to go on a business trip? Morris is absolutely unbelievable!"

"Mom, stop. I'm fine, aren't I?"

"Morris has always been like that, completely devoted to his research. So focused, so dedicated. That's what I fell for in the first place."

Back then, I was still busy making excuses for him, forgetting that I was the one who was sick, the one being hurt and ignored.

My heart seized like a fist had closed around it, crushing everything inside my chest.

I dragged myself to the fridge and took out the cake I'd bought for myself.

I blew out the candles. The sweetness of the cake and the salt of my tears went down together.

Starting today, my own feelings came first. Always.

A birthday, and a clean beginning.

The next morning, I woke up and saw that Morris's blog had been updated in the early hours for the first time in four years.

After all these years, you're still the only one who makes my heart race.

The photo was Cassandra, eyes closed, resting peacefully.

She was draped in the blanket I'd left in Morris's car. The IV line was cradled in his palm, warming it for her.

The girl slept so serenely, the man beside her so attentive, so tender. They really did look like a perfect match.

If only that man weren't my husband.

I swallowed the sting rising in my chest and took a cab to apply for my visa and residency permit.

This overseas assignment would keep me away for a long time. I probably wouldn't be coming back anytime soon.

Before I left the country, I would take care of every last piece of paperwork, including divorcing Morris.

In the cab, I got a text from him.

I'll be going abroad for a week soon. Exchanging research notes with a lab overseas.

I glanced at it and didn't reply.

When I arrived at the visa center, I saw them through the glass window. Morris and Cassandra.

They weren't touching. A careful distance separated them. But their eyes kept finding each other, and every glance carried a thousand unspoken words.

I clenched my fists and tried to stay calm, but my chest swelled with something hot and sour. Before I knew it, my feet had carried me closer.

"Morris, your lab is so busy. You really don't have to come with me to Finland."

My breath caught. Then I heard Morris answer, his voice impossibly soft:

"Seeing the Northern Lights is something I promised you a long time ago. I just didn't have the means back then. Now I do. Why wouldn't I make it right?"

"Cassandra, after this trip, I'll go back to being a proper family man. Don't worry."

A sharp, strange pain split through my chest.

Every word carved into me like a blade, stroke after stroke.

When we first got married, I had made the exact same request.

"Morris, look how beautiful the Northern Lights are in these photos! Let's go to Finland for our honeymoon!"

He'd frozen for a second, then refused without a moment's thought.

"No. Finland is too far. I can't take that much time off."

I'd tugged on his arm, coaxing him playfully, and all I got in return was a sudden eruption of anger.

"I said no, Regina!"

"Either pick somewhere else, or we cancel the honeymoon entirely."

So it was never about Finland being too far. Never about missing work.

It was because the person Morris wanted to see the Northern Lights with had always been someone else.

I let out a silent laugh and wiped the cold tears from my cheeks.

Just as well. A week was more than enough time to get everything in order.

By the time I walked out with my visa and residency permit, the sky had already gone dark.

I took a cab home and found Morris and Cassandra standing downstairs.

She was trying to leave, but he had her by the arm, the two of them tangled together.

I stood there watching for a moment. Cassandra was the first to notice me.

"Regina..."

She gasped like a startled rabbit, struggling harder to pull away from him.

"Morris, let go of me. Regina's back..."

But he didn't so much as flinch. Even with me standing right there, there wasn't a trace of guilt on his face.

"What are you afraid of?"

He kept his grip firmly on her, then turned to me and said flatly:

"Cassandra's apartment has a water leak. I told her she could stay with us for a couple of days."

I looked at how perfectly at ease Morris was and let out a short laugh.

"Why not just book her a nice hotel? That'd be way more comfortable than our place."

His brow creased.

"I'm not asking for your opinion. I'm informing you."

"Regina, don't you dare"

"I don't have a problem with it."

I cut him off before he could finish scolding me.

"But I've been pretty busy lately, so you'll have to entertain your guest yourself."

"I'm heading upstairs. You two carry on."

I turned and walked through the door, pretending I didn't see the confusion and surprise that flickered across Morris's face.

Once, at a dinner with his friends, someone had gotten drunk and asked him:

"Morris, have you really gotten over Cassandra?"

We'd had a massive fight when we got home that night. I kept pressing him about his history with Cassandra, and all it earned me was three days of the silent treatment.

After that, my nerves stayed on a hair trigger when it came to anything related to her. The smallest thing would send me spiraling, clinging to him with questions for hours.

He couldn't understand why I wasn't making a scene this time, why my reaction had shifted so drastically.

But I understood perfectly.

Fighting and comparing were pointless. All my jealousy ever did was make him miss Cassandra's sweetness and warmth even more, pushing the two of us further apart.

Besides, I didn't want to care anymore.

That night, the mattress dipped behind me. Morris reached over and pulled me into his arms from behind.

He sighed, his thumb tracing slow circles over my hand.

"Regina, I know I've been neglecting you lately, and that it's been hard on you. But you have to believe me. There's nothing between Cassandra and me. We're just friends now."

I laughed inside. A cold, hollow laugh.

How did he manage to say something so noble-sounding with a straight face?

If I hadn't seen every single thing he'd done for Cassandra with my own eyes, maybe I really would have been foolish enough to believe him.

"Regina, I promise, once I'm back from this trip, we'll settle into a good life together. No one else will come between us."

Morris murmured the words low against my hair. I couldn't tell if he was making me a promise or trying to talk his own wandering heart back on course.

I closed my eyes and forced the churning tide of emotion back down.

The next morning, I was woken by a call from Gordon James.

The bed beside me was empty. I answered.

"All the paperwork done? Want me to book you a flight five days from now?"

I counted the days in my head.

"Yeah, that should work."

"Have you brought up the divorce yet?"

"Not yet. Can you find me a lawyer to draft a divorce agreement?"

He agreed, and I hung up and opened the bedroom door.

Morris, wearing an apron for the first time in ages, was pouring a glass of milk and handing it to Cassandra. The dining table was covered with an elaborate spread of breakfast dishes.

The moment she spotted me, Cassandra waved me over with the ease of someone who owned the place.

"Regina, come eat! Morris made so much."

"I've been abroad for so long. His cooking is what I missed most."

"Honestly, Regina, I'm so jealous of you. Getting to eat like this every day. He must make you all sorts of different things for breakfast and dinner, right?"

The words landed. Morris froze. I just smiled and shook my head.

He had never once made breakfast for me.

I looked at the table full of carbs and milk, then turned and walked into the bathroom.

I had a sensitive stomach and was lactose intolerant. I never touched dairy or anything that could trigger a flare-up.

The day they left the country, Morris's blog was updated.

One last indulgence. Let me love you one more time.

Staring at that single line, I felt so sick I couldn't speak. I blocked the account outright.

The lawyer Gordon found was thorough. Everything from the divorce agreement to the asset division clauses was laid out with precision, saving me a great deal of effort.

I sent the electronic version of the divorce agreement to Morris. He never replied.

Over the next three days, I erased every trace of myself from the apartment.

Clothes and makeup I still needed went into boxes. Everything else, I had my assistant donate.

I tore up every photo of Morris and me together. The matching couple's items I'd once begged him to buy were thrown straight in the trash.

When I finished packing, everything I owned fit into a single suitcase.

A memory flickered through my mind: the day we first met, how flustered he'd looked when I confessed to him so bluntly, his cheeks flushing red, his gaze darting everywhere but my face, until he finally stammered out a yes.

"Y-Yeah."

"I mean... Regina, let's be together."

I laughed out loud before I could stop myself. But the boy who'd been clueless about romance yet so sincere and attentive was gone. He was truly gone.

It wasn't that he'd changed. It was that every image I'd ever drawn of him in my heart collapsed the instant I saw him love someone else.

Enough. A clean break was the best I could hope for.

I let out a breath and called Morris.

The phone rang twice before someone picked up.

"Morris, check the file I sent you on"

"Regina, Morris is busy right now. I'll have him call you back."

Cassandra's voice had lost its usual softness. Now it carried an unmistakable edge of provocation.

I smiled and said, evenly:

"Sure. Then make sure you tell him to check the file I sent."

"It's urgent. The sooner, the better."

"Regina, don't you get it? The person in his heart is me. Not you."

Her voice dripped with pity:

"It must've been so hard for you, spending three years with a man who never loved you."

"Still better than being the woman who wrecks someone else's marriage."

I fired back without missing a beat.

"Morris doesn't know the real reason you came back to the country, but do you think I don't?"

"I have no interest in getting between the two of you. But don't push me again."

I hung up clean and called a car to the airport.

Right before boarding, a message from Morris came through.

Regina Swanson, what did you say to Cassandra?

Fine, I lied to you. Cassandra and I are together. But if you're angry, take it out on me. What does any of this have to do with her?

When we get back, you apologize to Cassandra, and we'll put this behind us.

The accusatory tone, the sheer audacity of his self-righteousness, made me laugh. Every word confirmed how far past reason he'd gone.

What standing did he have to champion Cassandra? What gave him the nerve to interrogate me?

Morris, I want a divorce.

The agreement's in the file I sent. Sign it and send the digital copy back.

I powered off my phone, grabbed my suitcase, and walked away without looking back.

From here on out, our paths would never cross again.

There would be no more Morris Matthews in my world.