The Billionaire's Regret: Too Late to Love

t felt impos

s tapped a slow rhythm, barely noticeable, a quiet punctuation to the thoughts racing through her head. The

he door came s

eart

he whispered,

measured indifference she knew too well. That

close the door and pretend none of this existed. Part of her wanted to th

open

composed, too indifferent. His eyes swept over her, linge

talk to you

hest felt tight. "Talk?"

single word. Flat.

Didn't glance at her. Just moved to the counter, set the briefcase down, a

breath

s shak

ached for them, but her hand h

a hint of hesitation. Just a statement, matter-

her stomach, though she didn't fully understand why. Maybe because that part of her

me? Why? What have I do

nflection. No regret. Nothing but the c

y? Why now? After everything we've-after..." She stopped.

. Just a shift of weight, an acknowledgment of the world

pretending. Done trying to fix

. "Pretending?" she breathed. "You mean... us? Ou

ghtly against the counter, and let it fall back into the stack

"You... you don't even care, it's been fuve years.

t cruel. Like it wasn't shattering the woman sitting

Not here. Not in front of him. She wanted to scream, to beg, to punch, to collapse-someth

ered. "Why end us like this? I don'

ive, and the words cut deeper than any argu

ch. This-this empty apartment, these sterile papers, this cold man-was all that r

e barely more than a whisper. "I thought... I thought maybe

aid. A shrug, a tilt of h

th, trying to steady her breathing. She couldn't let him

hould be the angry one here." she said. One last quest

r-of-fact. "Not for you. Not for us. There'

ide her-small, quiet, alive-an anchor she hadn't realized she needed.

," she said finally, her voice low but fir

picked up the papers. He slipped them back into the briefcase with th

icked shut

stomach, feeling the echo of his presence leave like a vacuu

lence, she rea

indifference. And whatever came next-however

omple

the counter, took a deep, shaky bre

she ha

meant doi