Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

Cedric Clarke and Lorna stood at the foot of the bed, taking turns to gently coax him, patiently repeating words of comfort.

The man who had always been proud and domineering now lay there in silence, meeting the end with a strange, calm acceptance.

The early August sun was setting, its warm glow slanting through the window, washing everything in red. Yet, no matter how the light touched his face, it couldn't bring color to his deathly pale cheeks.

A car rumbled into the driveway.

Carl was back.

Moments later, hurried footsteps pounded down the hall.

The bedroom door burst open.

Carl, breathless and flushed, rushed in clutching the photo album Briony had given him.

"Mr. Wentworth! Mr. Wentworth!"

He was rarely so reckless.

Stewart, who'd been slipping toward unconsciousness, was startled awake. His heavy eyelids lifted, and he gazed at Carl standing by the bed.

A faint crease appeared between Stewart's brows, a subtle wince betraying the worsening pain.

Carl's eyes were rimmed red as he thrust the album forward. "Mr. Wentworth, please look at this!"

Cedric and Lorna exchanged a glance.

They both guessed what Carl had brought must be from Briony.

But Stewart barely reacted.

Carl pressed on. "Miss Briony asked me to bring this to you."

finally made

took him a moment before he rasped, "Who... did you

Carl's voice trembled with urgency. "She wanted you to have this album. It's a collection of her photos from birth to her first

a hand, reaching for the album, though his strength

down and helped prop Stewart up, arranging

from his thin wrist,

photo was of little Nina, newly born, the date

incubator with a breathing mask over her face—just the sight of

He turned the pages-

Nina at one month;

Nina at two months;

Nina's first celebration;

birth to her first birthday, every change in his daughter was there,

a flush of

brushed gently over

the pictures, and

promised her that night.

choed the words t

girl, Daddy! I know you're busy, I can wait, but you can't forget, okay? I only be in kindergarten for threeyears-you can't

to take

she

three years, she'd be

heartbreakingly brief-miss them, and you never get

that promise, and now here he was, about to break it, about

relentless, as if someone were slicing into his heart with a

small USB drive was tied to

there must be videos inside-snippets of

his eyes, each breath raw and shuddering,

and Carl kept silent