Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

Briony Kensington and Stewart Wentworth had been secretly married for five years-living as husband and wife in form, but never in feeling.

Or rather, if Briony felt anything at all for her husband, she hid it so well that not a trace ever showed.

On Christmas Eve, the city outside was alive with lights and laughter, the streets blanketed with fresh snow. Inside the vast, echoing halls of Southcreek Manor, Briony sat alone.

She'd made herself a bowl of pasta, but hadn't taken a single bite.

Her phone lay on the table, screen aglow with a video from social media—

A man's slender, elegant hand slid a diamond ring onto a woman's delicate finger. The woman's voice, bright and sweet, chimed in the caption: "Mr. Wentworth, here's to the rest of our lives."

Briony's eyes were drawn to the watch on the man's wrist-a limited edition piece, unmistakably his. A sharp ache twisted in her chest.

The video had long since paused, but she couldn't tear her gaze away. She watched it over and over, torturing herself with the certainty.

Six months ago, this woman had sent her a friend request out of the blue.

Ever since, Briony had seen her husband pop up in the woman's posts with disturbing regularity.

Five years of marriage, and only tonight did Briony realize Stewart was capable of tenderness, of romance, of caring attention.

steaming, had gone

up her fork, but her hand felt

marriage-cold and untouched, something she

her eyes, Briony let the tears fall. She stood, washed up, and retreated to her room, turning off the lights and lying down in

but the silence was broken by the quiet rustle of someone

lay on her

Stewart come in, felt the mattress dip under

his body pressed close, heavy and

Briony's brow furrowed.

was pushed up,

jolted, eyes

his familiar silver-rimmed glasses. The bedside lamp cast a

glass, his dark eyes

Her voice came out soft and a

the reddened rims of her eyes,

gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not unhappy.

both tender and possessive. His voice was low and rough, colored with an intimacy she'd