The Wife He Never Wanted

Episode 3.2

The house was quiet when I got back.

Not the controlled silence of my parents’ place. This one felt… lived in. Lights left on where they shouldn’t be, a toy car half-hidden under the console table, the faint hum of the television from somewhere down the hall.

I loosened my tie as I stepped in.

The nanny appeared almost immediately.

“You’re back, sir.”

I nodded. “He’s asleep?”

She hesitated for a second. “Yes… but he waited.”

I paused. “Waited?”

“He said he wanted to see you before going to bed.” Her voice softened slightly. “He stayed up as long as he could.”

Something in my chest tightened, subtle but there.

“He fell asleep in your room.”

I didn’t respond right away. Just gave a small nod and walked past her.

My room door was slightly open.

I pushed it gently.

The lights were dim, just the bedside lamp casting a soft glow across the room.

He was curled up on my bed, one arm tucked under his head, the other still loosely holding onto the edge of my pillow like he hadn’t meant to fall asleep there.

For a moment, I just stood there.

Watching.

He looked smaller like this.

Younger.

Not the quiet, observant boy who watched everything too closely, but just a child who had waited too long and lost the fight against sleep.

I walked over slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You should be asleep in your own room,” I said quietly.

No response.

Of course.

I exhaled, running a hand lightly over his hair, careful not to wake him.

“I said I’d be back earlier.”

The words felt unnecessary, but I said them anyway.

“I didn’t make it.”

He shifted slightly but didn’t wake.

I stayed there a moment longer than I meant to.

Then, without thinking too much about it, I spoke again.

“I’ll do better.”

It came out quieter than I expected.

I wasn’t sure if I meant it. Or how I planned to.

But I said it.

My gaze lingered on him for a second more before I looked away.

This was what they were talking about.

Not just the company. Not just appearances.

Him.

The empty spaces I kept leaving for someone else to fill.

A mother.

Someone who would be there when I wasn’t.

Someone who wouldn’t miss things like this.

I leaned back slightly, jaw tightening.

A wife.

The word still didn’t sit right.

Not after everything.

Not after the last time I let someone get close enough to think they could stay.

I wasn’t doing that again.

Not for the board.

Not for my family.

Not for anyone.

Carefully, I slipped one arm under him and lifted him up.

He stirred this time, brow furrowing slightly, his hand gripping faintly at my shirt before relaxing again.

“It’s fine,” I murmured.

I carried him down the hall to his room, pushing the door open with my shoulder.

The nightlight was already on.

I set him down gently on the bed, pulling the covers over him.

For a second, I stood there.

Then I reached out, adjusting the blanket slightly where it had folded.

“Next time,” I said quietly, more to myself than to him, “you won’t have to wait.”

He didn’t hear it.

I turned off the light and stepped out, closing the door softly behind me it.