The Awakening
881 Words
Chapter 6
(Richard's POV)
Three days passed, and Evelyn did not come back.
I went through the motions at work, performing surgeries, seeing patients, attending meetings. But everything felt off, like I was moving through water. I kept checking my phone, hoping for a message, a call, anything but there was nothing.
Emmanuel cornered me in the break room on the fourth day.
"You look terrible," he said bluntly.
"Thank you for that," I muttered, pouring myself coffee I did not want.
"Have you heard from her?"
I did not need to ask who he meant. "No."
"Have you tried talking to her? I mean really talking, not just texting?"
"She wouldn't answer my calls."
Emmanuel leaned against the counter, studying me. "What did you do, Richard?"
"Why do you assume I did something?"
"Because I have known you for ten years, and I have seen the way you treat that woman. So I am asking again. What did you do?"
I set the coffee down, suddenly exhausted. "I do not know. Everything. Nothing. I just... I did not see it."
"See what?"
"How unhappy she was. How much I was hurting her." I ran a hand through my hair, frustration and guilt tangling together. "I thought she was fine. I thought as long as I provided for her, gave her a home, that was enough. But it was not, was it?"
Emmanuel shook his head slowly. "No, Richard. It was not."
I sank into a chair, the weight of it all pressing down on me. "I do not know how to fix this."
"Do you want to?"
I looked up at him, surprised. "What kind of question is that?"
"An honest one. Because if you are only trying to get her back because your pride is hurt, then do not. Let her go. Let her find someone who will actually appreciate her."
"I do appreciate her," I said, but even as I said it, I knew it was not true. Or at least, it had not been true for a long time.
Emmanuel sat down across from me. "Then prove it. Stop sitting here feeling sorry for yourself and go find her. Apologize. Not because you want her to come back, but because she deserves to hear it."
He was right. I knew he was right. But the thought of facing her, of admitting how badly I had failed, terrified me.
That evening, I drove to Sarah's house. She answered the door with a look of resignation, like she had been expecting me.
"Mr. Richard."
"I need to know where she is, Sarah. Please."
She sighed and crossed her arms. "Why should I tell you?"
"Because she is my wife. Because I need to talk to her."
"You have had eight years to talk to her. What is different now?"
I did not have a good answer for that. "I just... I need to see her. Please."
Sarah studied me for a long moment, then shook her head. "She does not want to see you, Mr. Richard. She made that very clear."
"Just tell me where she is. I will not bother her. I just need to know she and Victoria are safe."
"They are safe," Sarah said firmly. "They are better off without you confusing things."
The words stung, but I could not argue. I nodded slowly and turned to leave. But then Sarah called after me.
"Mr. Richard."
I looked back.
"If you really care about her, if you really want to make things right, then sign the papers. Let her go. Stop dragging this out."
I did not respond. I just got in my car and drove away.
That night, I went home to an empty house. I walked through the rooms, noticing for the first time how little of Evelyn was left. The photos on the walls were mostly of Victoria. The books on the shelves were mine. The only trace of her was a faint scent of her perfume lingering in the bedroom.
I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out my phone. I opened my messages and started typing.
"I am sorry."
I stared at the words for a long time before deleting them. Sorry is not enough. It would never be enough.
But it was a start.
I hit send and waited. Minutes passed, then an hour yet no response.
I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, the same ceiling Evelyn must have stared at countless nights while I was at the hospital. And for the first time, I let myself feel the full weight of what I had done.
I had destroyed my marriage. I had broken the one person who had ever truly loved me. And now, she is gone.
The question was, could I live with that? Or was I going to fight for her, even if I did not deserve her?
I did not have the answer yet. But as I lay there in the dark, alone in a house that no longer felt like home, I knew one thing for certain.
I could not let her go. Not without trying. Not without showing her that I could be the man she needed me to be.
Even if it was too late.
- Writer
