Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

Briony nodded. "Try to talk to Dr. Clarke, will you? Star's had a few drinks-she's not thinking straight. Don't take her words to heart."

"Alright." Stewart pushed open the door and stepped inside.

In the media room, the once-loving couple were now locked in a furious argument, faces flushed and voices raised.

Stella sat on the sofa, her face buried in her hands, sobbing. Cedric Clarke stood across from her, arms akimbo, his expression dark and stormy, chest heaving with anger.

There were no winners in this fight.

Once, they had loved each other fiercely. Now, only their cruelest words remained, cutting deeper than any blade.

Broken glass glinted on the floor, the sharp tang of spilled liquor hanging in the air. Through the open door, the heart-wrenching cries of a child echoed from outside. That sound pulled Stella and Cedric back from the edge, snapping the spell of their rage.

"Ms. Joyner's been drinking-her words don't count for much right now. Let it go," Stewart said quietly, stepping over to Cedric and giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Cedric wiped a hand over his face, as if trying to clear his head.

He was just as lost in his anger. He was the one who'd smashed the bottle. Now, regret gnawed at him.

Stella stood by the coffee table, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

Cedric looked at her, a heavy ache settling in his chest.

"Star, I-"

brushed past him, and

stepped out, little Aster spotted his mother and, for

didn't rush

at his mom. After a few seconds, when she didn't come to him, the wailing started again—louder, more

as Stella reached for her

hiccuping and whimpering,

her eyes, hurt and exhausted, but still forced herself to soothe him in a trembling whisper. "Aster, sweetheart, you're a big boy

could he

he wanted, Aster

tears came faster, hot and

me!" she sobbed, clutching her child.

around Stella's shoulders. "It's alright, love. He's just tired and fussy, that's all. He's foo little to

Briony,

shouldn't take her anger out on her son. She knew, too, that right now, there was no choice but to try to settle him. He was

to make

it

the foot of the bed, holding her son in one arm, bottle in the