Too Late, Mr. Blackwood

Chapter 3: A Question Without an Answer

For the first few days after leaving Adrian, I kept expecting to wake up and realize I had made a mistake.

I expected panic.

Regret.

The overwhelming urge to return to the penthouse before Adrian decided I had gone too far.

Instead, I woke up in Sophie's guest room on the fourth morning and felt only one thing.

Exhaustion.

I stared at the unfamiliar ceiling.

For three years, my mornings had followed the same routine.

Wake up before Adrian.

Prepare his coffee.

Check his schedule.

Make sure breakfast was ready.

Remind him about meetings he had already forgotten.

Wait for him to leave.

Then spend the rest of the day waiting for him to return.

I had once convinced myself that taking care of someone was another way of loving them.

Maybe it was.

But somewhere along the way, I had forgotten that love wasn't supposed to mean disappearing inside another person's life.

A soft knock came from the door.

"Are you awake?"

Sophie's voice.

"Unfortunately."

The door opened.

She entered carrying two cups of coffee.

"I brought you food too."

I sat up slowly.

"You're trying to make me fat."

"I'm trying to make sure you don't survive entirely on sadness and coffee."

Despite myself, I smiled.

She handed me one of the cups.

I took it.

"Thank you."

Sophie sat at the edge of the bed.

For a few moments, neither of us spoke.

She knew better than to force me.

But eventually, she asked the question I had been avoiding.

"Has he called?"

I looked down at my phone.

Thirty-seven missed calls.

Fourteen messages.

None of them said what a small part of me had wanted to see.

None of them said:

I'm sorry.

None of them said:

I remember.

None of them said:

Please come home.

The messages were short.

Where are you?

Call me.

Elena.

We need to talk.

And my personal favorite:

Enough.

I stared at that one for a long moment.

Enough.

As if I were the inconvenience.

As if I were the problem Adrian needed to solve before returning to his perfectly organized life.

"He has called," I said.

Sophie raised an eyebrow.

"And?"

"And I haven't answered."

"Good."

I looked at her.

"You don't even know what he wants."

"I know Adrian Blackwood."

"You've met him twice."

"Exactly. Twice was enough."

I laughed softly.

Then my expression faded.

"Maybe I'm being unfair."

Sophie's face immediately changed.

"Elena."

"I left without explaining anything."

"You explained for three years."

I looked away.

"Did I?"

"Yes."

She placed her coffee on the bedside table.

"I watched you, Elena."

Her voice softened.

"You canceled plans because Adrian had a meeting."

I remained silent.

"You spent your birthdays waiting for him to come home."

My fingers tightened around the cup.

"You defended him every time someone asked why he never came with you anywhere."

I swallowed.

"That's different."

"No, it's not."

Sophie's eyes filled with frustration.

"You've spent years making excuses for a man who never once had to explain why he couldn't make time for his own wife."

The room became quiet.

I looked down at my hands.

The skin around my left ring finger felt strangely bare.

I had stopped reaching for the ring.

That was progress.

Or maybe denial.

I wasn't sure yet.

"What if he really doesn't understand?" I whispered.

Sophie stared at me.

"What?"

"What if Adrian genuinely doesn't realize how bad things were?"

The words sounded ridiculous the moment they left my mouth.

But I needed to ask.

Because if Adrian didn't know...

If he genuinely hadn't understood...

Did that make everything less painful?

Sophie leaned back.

"Then that's still his fault."

I looked up.

"Elena, you shouldn't have to disappear for your husband to realize you've been lonely."

Her words stayed with me.

I looked away.

Outside the window, New York was already awake.

Cars moved through the streets.

People rushed toward places that mattered to them.

For three years, I had been moving through the same city.

But I had somehow built my entire world around one man.

My phone vibrated.

Adrian.

Again.

I stared at his name.

Sophie noticed.

"You don't have to answer."

"I know."

But my thumb moved anyway.

Before I could change my mind, I pressed the green button.

The call connected.

For a second, neither of us spoke.

Then—

"Finally."

His voice.

Low.

Controlled.

And somehow, hearing it made my chest hurt.

I closed my eyes.

"Hello, Adrian."

A brief silence followed.

I could almost imagine his expression.

His eyebrows drawn together.

His jaw tight.

"Where are you?"

I opened my eyes.

There it was.

Not Are you okay?

Not Why did you leave?

Not I'm sorry.

Where are you?

"I'm safe."

"That's not what I asked."

I stared out the window.

"Then maybe ask a different question."

Silence.

Adrian wasn't used to me speaking to him like that.

Neither was I.

"Elena."

Something in his voice warned me.

The same tone he used in meetings when someone had tested his patience.

"We need to discuss this."

"This?"

"The divorce papers."

I let out a quiet breath.

"They're pretty clear."

"Don't be childish."

My expression hardened.

For the first time since answering his call, anger moved through me.

Childish.

I had spent three years being patient.

I had waited.

I had stayed.

I had tried.

And now that I had finally left...

I was being childish.

"I wasn't childish when I waited for you until midnight on our anniversary."

The line went completely silent.

I stopped breathing.

Sophie's eyes widened from across the room.

I stared at nothing.

On the other end of the call, Adrian said nothing.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Then—

"Our anniversary?"

The two words were quiet.

Confused.

As if he had genuinely forgotten.

Something inside me broke.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just one final c***k in something I had spent years trying to protect.

"Yes, Adrian."

My voice was barely above a whisper.

"Three years."

He remained silent.

I could hear his breathing.

For the first time since I had known him, Adrian Blackwood didn't have an immediate response.

And strangely...

That hurt more than if he had argued.

Because it was confirmation.

He had forgotten.

Completely.

"I'm sorry."

My eyes closed.

The words came too late.

Not because I had waited four days to hear them.

Because I had waited three years.

I swallowed.

"Are you?"

"Elena—"

"Did you remember before I told you?"

Another silence.

That was my answer.

I smiled bitterly.

"No."

"That's not fair."

I laughed once.

The sound was small and empty.

"Not fair?"

His voice became sharper.

"I was working."

"And I was your wife."

The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

Silence again.

My fingers trembled.

I had never raised my voice at Adrian.

Never demanded anything.

Never wanted to be another problem in his already complicated life.

But I was tired.

So tired.

"I waited for you, Adrian."

His breathing changed slightly.

"I know."

"No."

My voice cracked.

"You don't."

I stood from the bed and walked toward the window.

"Do you know how many dinners I've eaten alone?"

He said nothing.

"Do you know how many times I fell asleep waiting for you?"

Silence.

"Do you know my favorite restaurant?"

His breath caught slightly.

I continued.

"My favorite flower?"

Nothing.

"Do you know when my birthday is?"

"Elena."

"Do you?"

His silence became unbearable.

My eyes filled with tears.

I laughed through them.

"That's what I thought."

"You're twisting this."

I froze.

Slowly, I lowered the phone from my ear.

Twisting this.

A strange calm replaced the anger.

I understood something in that moment.

Adrian still didn't see it.

Not really.

To him, I had suddenly become emotional.

Unreasonable.

Difficult.

He didn't understand that I hadn't left because of one forgotten anniversary.

The anniversary was simply the last thing.

The final proof that I had spent three years loving someone who had never bothered to learn who I was.

I lifted the phone back to my ear.

"I'm not twisting anything."

"Then what do you want from me?"

The question hurt.

Because for years, I had wanted something so simple.

You.

I wanted your time.

Your attention.

A conversation that didn't end because your phone rang.

A dinner where you looked at me instead of your emails.

A marriage.

But suddenly, I didn't want to explain it anymore.

"I don't want anything from you."

His voice changed.

"What does that mean?"

"It means exactly what I said."

"Elena, come home."

I closed my eyes.

For one terrible moment, my heart betrayed me.

It jumped.

He had asked me to come home.

Then he added—

"We'll talk when you get here."

The feeling disappeared.

Not I miss you.

Not Please don't leave me.

Not even I'm sorry.

Just another instruction.

Another expectation.

Come home.

We'll talk.

As if I had simply left the office early.

I looked around Sophie's room.

The unfamiliar walls.

My suitcase beside the door.

The small life I was beginning from nothing.

And for the first time...

The idea of returning frightened me more than the idea of leaving.

"No."

The word was quiet.

But firm.

Adrian went silent.

"What?"

"I'm not coming home."

"Elena."

"I mean it."

His voice lowered.

"You can't just walk away from our marriage."

My eyes moved to the divorce papers I had photographed before leaving.

A strange laugh almost escaped me.

"Watch me."

"That's not funny."

"I'm not laughing."

"Where are you?"

I looked toward Sophie.

She was watching me carefully.

I shook my head.

"I'm not telling you."

His voice became colder.

"You're my wife."

The words struck me.

My wife.

For three years, I had wanted him to claim me.

To acknowledge me.

To make me feel like I belonged somewhere in his life.

But now...

Now that I had left...

He suddenly remembered I was his wife.

I held the phone tighter.

"I was your wife when you forgot our anniversary too."

He didn't respond.

"I was your wife when you left me alone every night."

Silence.

"I was your wife when you never asked me what I wanted."

My voice became quieter.

"I was your wife when I stopped smiling, Adrian."

That finally made him stop.

A long silence passed between us.

Then he said my name.

"Elena."

But this time...

It sounded different.

Almost uncertain.

My eyes filled with tears again.

I wiped them away quickly.

"I have to go."

"Don't hang up."

I hesitated.

"Please."

The word stopped me.

I couldn't remember the last time Adrian had said please to me.

Maybe he never had.

For one second, I almost stayed.

Then I remembered the candle.

The cold dinner.

The unanswered message.

Seen.

I closed my eyes.

"Goodbye, Adrian."

"Elena—"

I ended the call.

The phone fell from my hand onto the bed.

For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.

Sophie stood and crossed the room.

She hugged me.

This time, I cried.

Not because I wanted to go back.

But because I finally understood something I had been afraid to admit.

I didn't know if Adrian loved me.

Maybe he never had.

But one thing was certain.

He didn't know me.

And I had spent three years making excuses for a man who didn't know the woman sleeping beside him every night.

Adrian stared at his phone.

The call had ended.

For a long moment, he didn't move.

His office was silent.

His assistant had knocked twice.

He had ignored her both times.

On his desk sat Elena's divorce papers.

He looked at them.

Then at his phone.

Do you know when my birthday is?

The question returned to him.

He frowned.

Of course he knew.

Didn't he?

He opened his calendar.

Scrolled through the months.

His fingers stopped.

Nothing.

No reminder.

No event.

No birthday.

Adrian stared at the screen.

For the first time in his life, he didn't know something he believed he should.

He leaned back in his chair.

Outside his office, the city continued moving.

Meetings waited.

Investors waited.

His entire company waited for him.

But Adrian could only hear Elena's voice.

I was your wife when I stopped smiling.

His eyes moved toward the divorce papers again.

For four days, he had believed Elena would calm down.

That she would return.

That everything would eventually go back to normal.

But suddenly, a thought entered his mind.

What if normal was exactly what she had run away from?

His phone buzzed.

A message.

For one second, his heart reacted.

Elena.

He picked up the phone.

But the message wasn't from her.

It was from his assistant.

Ms. Sterling is here to see you.

Adrian looked toward the door.

For some reason, the name irritated him.

He typed a reply.

Tell her I'm busy.

Then he stared at the screen.

A second later, another message appeared.

His eyes narrowed.

Unknown number.

Mr. Blackwood, you should know that your wife has officially changed her contact information. Any further communication should go through her attorney.

Adrian went still.

His wife.

His attorney.

Contact information.

The message was cold.

Professional.

Final.

For the first time since Elena left...

Adrian felt something dangerously close to fear.

Because Elena wasn't just angry.

She was preparing for a life without him.

And Adrian Blackwood was beginning to understand something far too late.

She might actually succeed.