Goodbye, Mr. Regret

The rich aroma of red wine lingered on her lips, heady and intoxicating.

Jessica had barely registered what was happening before she tried to push Timothy away, only for him to let go of her first.

He could sense he was losing his grip on her, that coaxing her back was slipping further out of reach.

If he pushed any harder, he knew he'd only drive her farther away, maybe ruin whatever was left between them. All he wanted was to bring his wife home, to live like a normal couple again—he never wanted things to end in utter ruin.

Swallowing his pride in front of his own wife didn't feel shameful to him.

Right now, his desire was almost overwhelming—so close to breaking through— but somehow, he managed to rein it in. His voice was rough, trembling just a little as he murmured, "Jessy, it's been so long since we've been together. Don't you miss it—not even a little?"

His lips nearly grazed her earlobe, his hot breath trailing slowly over her skin. He was trying to tempt her, to draw her in with every ounce of charm he had.

His deep, seductive whisper might have worked once, but Jessica was stone-cold sober now. All she felt was disgust. How could he say something so shameless and not even flinch?

Pinned by his weight, Jessica couldn't move. She furrowed her delicate brows, lifted her hand, and pushed back. "No, not at all. I never want to have anything to do with you again, Timothy. Please, just let me go."

Timothy reached out, gently tilting her chin with his thumb and forefinger, his voice husky. "Seven years, Jessy. How can you be so heartless—just walking away from your husband and your son?"

Heartless? Who was really the heartless one here?

to turn things around

say I'm heartless, then so be it," she

dark eyes locked onto hers, unblinking, searching.

he truly understood what

you walk away from this

laugh. The one

stern brow trembled as

still don't even know why we're in this cold war.

his admission of defeat, made Jessica's

Too late.

heart was already hardened, immune

a fleeting kiss, then pulled her

light, it felt as if something inside him-something he thought he'd lost-returned the moment he held her

again, playing the role of the devoted

again and again, always in

every one of them. There was no way she'd be fooled by

rested on the top of her head, nuzzling her soft, fragrant hair-the scent he'd grown so used to, the one he

drifted down to her. "Jessy, it's