Too Late, Mr. Blackwood

Chapter 2: After Midnight

I woke before the sun.

For a few seconds, I didn't remember where I was.

Then I saw the familiar ceiling above me.

The familiar curtains.

The familiar room.

And the man sleeping beside me.

Reality returned quietly.

I was leaving.

Today.

I turned my head toward Adrian.

He was still asleep.

Even after three years, there were moments when looking at him made something painful move inside my chest.

Maybe love didn't disappear simply because you decided it should.

Maybe leaving wasn't the same as no longer loving someone.

Maybe sometimes you left because you loved yourself enough to stop accepting less.

I carefully pushed the blanket away.

Adrian didn't move.

His arm rested on his side of the bed, far away from me.

There had always been distance between us.

Last night, for the first time, I had stopped pretending it didn't exist.

I stood and walked silently toward the bathroom.

My reflection stared back at me from the mirror.

I looked tired.

My hair was messy from a sleepless night, and there were faint shadows beneath my eyes.

But there was something else in my reflection.

Something unfamiliar.

Determination.

I washed my face slowly.

Then I looked at the wedding ring lying beside the sink.

I had carried it into the bathroom without thinking.

For a long moment, I stared at it.

Three years ago, Adrian had placed that ring on my finger in front of hundreds of people.

The wedding had been beautiful.

Perfect.

Expensive.

The kind of wedding magazines write about.

I remembered standing beside him in my white dress, believing that one day we would become the couple everyone assumed we already were.

I remembered thinking:

He doesn't love me yet.

But maybe one day he will.

I had been twenty-three.

Young enough to believe patience could create love.

Young enough to mistake hope for happiness.

I picked up the ring.

Then placed it inside a small velvet box.

This time, I didn't cry.

By six in the morning, everything was packed.

Two suitcases.

One small box.

And my sketch portfolio.

That was all I was taking.

I stood in the middle of the bedroom and looked around.

It was strange.

I have lived here for three years.

But now, with my things gone, I realized how little of myself I had actually allowed into this place.

The apartment had always looked like Adrian.

Dark furniture.

Neutral colors.

Clean lines.

Expensive art.

Nothing out of place.

Nothing too personal.

Nothing that suggested someone actually lived here.

Except for me.

And even I had slowly learned not to take up too much space.

My eyes moved toward the bedside table.

Adrian's side was neat.

Mine was empty.

I picked up the final envelope from the table.

The divorce papers were inside.

My lawyer had prepared everything weeks ago.

Weeks.

I had been planning this longer than I wanted to admit.

Maybe some part of me had always known I would eventually reach this point.

I carried the envelope downstairs.

The apartment was still silent.

Adrian hadn't woken up.

I entered the kitchen and stopped beside the dining table.

Last night's dinner was still there.

Cold.

Untouched.

The candle had melted into a small pool of wax.

I began clearing the table.

Then I stopped.

Why was I cleaning up after him one last time?

The thought almost made me smile.

For three years, I cleaned up every mess.

Not just the physical ones.

The forgotten dinners.

The canceled plans.

The lonely nights.

The excuses.

I had always been the one making things easier.

This morning, I was tired.

So I left everything exactly where it was.

The cold food.

The empty chair.

The cake.

I placed the envelope beside Adrian's plate.

Then, after a moment of hesitation, I took out a pen.

On the front, I wrote:

For Adrian.

Nothing else.

No long explanation.

No emotional goodbye.

No accusations.

I had spent three years explaining what I needed.

He had simply never listened.

My phone vibrated.

I looked down.

Sophie: I'm outside.

I took a deep breath.

This was it.

I walked toward the front door.

My hand touched the handle.

Then I stopped.

Behind me was the life I had spent three years trying to build.

Ahead of me was nothing I could predict.

No husband.

No familiar routine.

No guarantee that leaving would make anything better.

Fear crawled into my chest.

For one terrible second, I wanted to turn around.

Go back upstairs.

Put the ring on.

Pretend last night hadn't happened.

Wait for Adrian to wake up.

Maybe today would be different.

Maybe—

My fingers tightened around the suitcase handle.

No.

I closed my eyes.

I had already given him three years.

I couldn't keep giving him more just because I was afraid of being alone.

I opened the door.

And left.

Sophie Bennett was waiting in her car.

The moment I stepped outside, she got out.

Her eyes moved toward my suitcases.

Then toward my face.

"Are you sure?"

I looked back at the building.

The penthouse windows reflected the early morning sky.

Somewhere behind one of them, Adrian was still sleeping.

He didn't know I was leaving.

He didn't know I had taken my ring off.

He didn't know that, for the first time in three years, I wasn't planning my day around him.

I looked at Sophie.

"Yes."

She studied me for another moment.

Then she opened her arms.

I walked into them.

And that was when I almost cried.

Sophie held me tightly.

Not saying anything.

Not asking if I was making a mistake.

She simply held me.

"I thought it would hurt less," I whispered.

"It will."

I pulled back.

She smiled sadly.

"Just not today."

I laughed softly through the tears threatening to fall.

"That's not very comforting."

"I'm not here to lie to you."

That was Sophie.

Honest, even when honesty hurts.

She took one of my suitcases.

"Come on."

I looked at the building one final time.

Then I got into the car.

As Sophie pulled away from the curb, I watched the building disappear behind us.

For three years, I had believed that place was my home.

But sitting beside my best friend with two suitcases and no idea what came next...

I felt something I hadn't felt in a very long time.

Free.

Terrified.

But free.

Adrian Blackwood woke at 8:16 a.m.

His first thought was that he was late.

His second was that his head hurt.

He reached toward the other side of the bed.

Empty.

He opened his eyes.

Elena was usually awake before him.

She liked mornings.

Or at least, she had learned to like them because Adrian left early for work.

He sat up.

"Elena?"

No answer.

He glanced toward the bathroom.

The door was open.

Empty.

Adrian got out of bed.

He didn't think much of it.

She was probably downstairs.

Maybe making coffee.

Maybe reading.

Maybe doing whatever she usually did during the day.

He showered.

Changed.

Checked his phone.

Twenty-three emails.

Two missed calls.

One message from Victoria.

He answered the urgent ones before leaving the bedroom.

The apartment was silent.

Adrian walked downstairs.

"Elena?"

Nothing.

His eyebrows pulled together.

He entered the kitchen.

And stopped.

The dining table was exactly as it had been the night before.

The food.

The cake.

Two plates.

Everything untouched.

Except for the envelope sitting beside his chair.

Adrian walked closer.

His name was written on the front.

He picked it up.

For Adrian.

He opened it.

The first page was on top.

His eyes moved across the words.

Then stopped.

PETITION FOR DIVORCE

For several seconds, Adrian didn't move.

He read it again.

Then once more.

His expression remained calm.

Almost blank.

He placed the papers back on the table.

Divorce.

Elena wanted a divorce.

He looked toward the staircase.

"Elena?"

Silence.

Adrian walked through the apartment.

Bedroom.

Bathroom.

Her closet.

He opened the doors.

And froze.

Half-empty.

No.

More than half.

Most of her clothes were gone.

Adrian stood there for a moment.

Then he walked toward her desk.

The sketchbooks she usually kept there were gone too.

His eyes narrowed.

She had actually left.

His phone rang.

Victoria.

He ignored it.

For the first time that morning, something uncomfortable settled inside his chest.

Not panic.

Not yet.

Just irritation.

Confusion.

He picked up his phone and called Elena.

The line rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then voicemail.

He ended the call.

Called again.

Voicemail.

Adrian stared at the screen.

She had never ignored his calls before.

Never.

His jaw tightened.

He opened his messages.

Adrian: Where are you?

He waited.

One minute.

Two.

Five.

Nothing.

His phone rang again.

Victoria.

This time, he answered.

"What?"

There was a brief silence.

"Good morning to you too."

"I'm busy."

"Adrian, we're supposed to leave for the meeting in forty minutes."

"I know."

"Then why aren't you at the office?"

His eyes moved toward the divorce papers.

"I'll be there."

He ended the call.

Adrian looked around the empty bedroom.

Then back at his phone.

He typed another message.

Adrian: Elena, answer me.

No response.

He threw his phone onto the bed.

She was angry.

That was all.

She had probably gone to Sophie.

She would stay there for a few days.

Then she would calm down.

Then they would talk.

Elena had always been emotional when she was upset.

But she had never actually left before.

Not like this.

Still...

She would come back.

Wouldn't she?

Adrian looked at the divorce papers again.

For the first time, the thought didn't feel as simple as it should have.

He picked up the papers.

At the bottom of the final page was Elena's signature.

Already signed.

His eyes rested on her name.

Elena Hart.

Not Blackwood.

Hart.

Her maiden name.

Adrian frowned.

She had used her maiden name.

Something cold moved through his chest.

He immediately pushed the feeling away.

She was making a point.

That was all.

He folded the papers and placed them inside the envelope.

Then grabbed his briefcase.

He had a company to run.

A meeting to attend.

Problems far more important than an argument with his wife.

Elena would come back.

She always came back.

Across the city, I watched my phone light up.

Again.

Adrian.

Sophie glanced at me from the driver's seat.

"Aren't you going to answer?"

I stared at his name.

For three years, every time Adrian called, I answered.

No matter where I was.

No matter what I was doing.

Because somewhere along the way, I had taught myself that his time was more important than mine.

The phone stopped ringing.

A message appeared.

Adrian: Answer me.

My thumb hovered over the screen.

Then I turned my phone off.

Sophie looked at me.

I smiled weakly.

"What's next?"

Her expression softened.

"Breakfast."

I laughed.

"That's your big plan?"

"No."

She started the car.

"My big plan is to remind you that your entire life didn't end because you left one man."

I looked out the window.

New York moved around us.

Busy.

Loud.

Alive.

For the first time in years, I didn't know where I was going.

And strangely...

That was the most beautiful thing about it.

My phone remained dark in my lap.

Unanswered.

For once, Adrian Blackwood would have to wait.