WHEN HE FINALLY LOOKED BACK

"Mrs. Crowe, shall I keep the soup warm?" Looking up from the dining table, I managed a smile for the housekeeper, Maria. "Just a little longer." She paused. "It's already past eight." "I know." Her eyes softened in a way which was too much like pity. "I'll wait." Maria opened her mouth as if she wanted to add something, but only nodded and went back into the kitchen. The sound of her steps receded. Silence filled the house. It always did. I cast a glance at the clock above the fireplace. 8:07 PM. Fingers tightening on the edge of the chair, I knew. He was late. As usual. I grabbed my phone and opened our chat. The last message in there was mine. Drive safely. Sent today in the morning at 7:12 AM. Unread. The next one below was unread too. Don't forget tonight. Sent yesterday in the evening. I looked at the tiny gray checkmark for a while before closing my phone. The food would get cold. I got up and walked into the kitchen. Steam rose from the black pepper steak lying in the serving dish. His favorite. Besides, there were garlic butter potatoes and mushroom cream soup. The exact meal he mentioned liking in an interview three years ago. He probably didn't even remember saying it. But I did. That's what good wives do. Isn't it? For the third time, I readjusted the position of the plates. Then the candles. Then the flowers. The roses weren't evenly spaced. I shifted the vase two inches to the left. Much better. The front door was still closed. Eyes drifting toward it for the hundredth time, I heard the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. 8:34 PM. Grabbing my phone, I checked for messages. There weren't any. Perhaps the meeting lasted longer than expected. Perhaps the traffic was bad. Perhaps his phone's battery ran low. Perhaps... Excuses came easily after four years. They came so easily, because I was so damn good at creating them. The sound of the tires outside startled me. I rushed toward the window. Headlights passed by the gate. Not our car. Excitement in my chest quietly receded. Stepping away from the curtain, I shook my head. Stupid. I was twenty-eight years old, not sixteen. I still shouldn't react like this. The front door opened behind me. Instantly, my face lit up. "Dami–" The smile disappeared when I saw Maria standing there with the delivery package in her hands. "Oh." "I'm sorry, Mrs. Crowe." "It's okay." Setting the box on the table, she asked, "Would you like me to serve dinner?" "No." "You didn't eat either." "I'll eat with my husband." The words came automatically. Maria gave me a look and dropped her gaze. "Of course." The door closed behind her. I stood there alone. Alone again. Glancing at the dining table, I saw the two plates, two glasses and two chairs. One person. The room suddenly seemed too big. The phone buzzed in my hands. So quick was the grab that I almost dropped it. Heart sinking, I recognized the number. Not Damian. I ignored it. A second later, another message appeared. From him. My breath stuck in my throat. Meeting. Don't wait. Three words. No apology. No explanation. No dinner. Not even a mention of today. I stared at the screen until the letters blurred. Then I laughed quietly. Funny sound. To my own ears. But somehow... Somehow, I really thought that this year would be different. Lowering myself into the chair, I watched the flickering candles between the empty seats. Tonight was four years since our wedding. Four years. One thousand four hundred and sixty days. I remembered every anniversary. Every birthday. Every special date. Damian remembered quarterly reports and stock meetings. Lifting my glass, I drank some water. Suddenly, it tasted bitter. The humming of the elevator in the mansion reached my ears from upstairs. The house was full of luxurious sounds. Central heating. Automatic lights. Imported marble floors. A million-dollar house. And somehow... It had never seemed lived-in. Gazing toward the wedding photograph near the fireplace, I saw how handsome Damian looked in his black suit. I looked happy. Painfully happy. Standing up, I picked it up. My fingers touched the glass. Once I believed that time could bring love. People learn to love each other every day. Don't they? I was patient. Careful. Hopeful. I learned how he liked his coffee. Black. No sugar. I learned his favorite meals. His schedule. Habits. Moods. I learned to recognize the sound of his footsteps before he entered a room. To know if he was angry, seeing how he loosened his tie. To know if he needed silence. To disappear if he needed some space. I learned everything about Damian Crowe. Except how to make him stay. Thunder pulled me to reality. Rain was tapping softly against the windows. City lights outside were blurring through the water. The phone vibrating in my hands, I saw that it was my friend Lily. How did dinner go? I stared at the message. My fingers hovering above the keyboard. Then I wrote. Great. He's just running late. That was the right thing to reply with anyway. Almost instantly, three dots appeared. Aria... Then it disappeared. Then it appeared again. You deserve better than waiting alone every year. Dropped my phone without answering, I kept my promise. Because if I answered, I would cry. And I had promised myself not to cry tonight. Not tonight. Not on our anniversary. Going back to the dining table, I saw how the steak had grown cold. The soup wasn't steaming anymore. The candles were half-burned. I reached out and extinguished them one by one. Darkness fell on the room. For a while, I simply sat there. Listening. Waiting. The sound of the rain. Clock is ticking. My breath. Nothing else. Then— The alarm of the front gate chimed. I froze. Headlights were shining through the windows. A car entering the driveway. Heart slamming against my ribs, I understood. He was here. He actually came. Getting up quickly, I accidentally let my chair scrape loudly on the floor. The engine of the car stopped outside. Door opening. Then another one. Another one? My smile disappeared. Looking through the rain-covered window, I saw Damian stepping out of the car. He wasn't alone. A tall elegant lady stepped beside him. Her hand was on his arm. And Damian... Damian didn't pull away. Fingers slipping from the curtain, I knew. Even from this distance... I recognized her. Celeste Hart. The woman my husband couldn't forget. And for the first time in four years... I wondered if I was ever truly his wife.