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His Wife, His Mistake
Chapter Twenty-Three: Too Late
POV: Ethan
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I came with flowers.
Lilies this time — her favorite, she once said. Not roses. Not daffodils.
Just lilies. White, elegant, gentle.
Like her.
I even brought the book she'd been eyeing last week, a collection of poetry by a forgotten author she said reminded her of "the sound of quiet rain."
I didn't plan to stay long.
Just enough to see her smile.
To hear her voice.
To maybe — if I was lucky — feel like she hadn't disappeared into a world that didn't include me.
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The bell over the gallery door chimed as I entered.
Soft footsteps echoed in the back.
Then her voice.
"I'll be right out!"
I smiled.
And waited.
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But when Arya came around the corner, something felt… different.
Not in her clothes or her hair — though she looked beautiful as always.
No.
It was her eyes.
They weren't weighed down with sadness anymore.
They weren't reaching for something just out of grasp.
They were... still.
Steady.
Settled.
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"Ethan," she said, blinking. "I didn't expect you."
"I brought you something," I said, holding out the lilies and the book.
She looked at them for a long moment before gently taking them.
"Thank you," she said softly. "That's… really kind."
But the warmth I hoped for wasn't there.
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She set the book down on the desk and arranged the flowers in a vase, her hands careful, quiet.
Too quiet.
"Are you okay?" I asked finally.
She didn't look at me when she answered.
"I think I'm starting to be."
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There was a pause.
A long one.
The kind that feels like it could end something if neither person speaks.
"Is it… him?" I asked quietly.
She flinched, just slightly. But she nodded.
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"I saw his car," I added. "Outside your place last night."
She didn't deny it.
Didn't apologize.
Just… nodded again.
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"I should've known," I murmured, more to myself than to her. "You were always halfway somewhere else when I was with you."
"That's not fair, Ethan," she said softly.
"No, it's true. I saw it. I just… hoped I was wrong."
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Silence again.
But this time it didn't hurt.
It just confirmed what I'd suspected all along.
She was never mine to begin with.
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"I never lied to you," Arya said gently. "I just wasn't ready."
"Ready to let go?" I asked.
"Ready to stop pretending I already had."
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I nodded slowly.
The hurt was there, yes.
But it wasn't ugly.
It wasn't angry.
It was quiet.
Like something ending that was never meant to begin.
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"I care about you, Arya," I said. "I always will."
"And I'm grateful for you," she replied, her voice thick. "You were gentle when I needed gentleness. You listened when I couldn't speak. You reminded me I was still someone… even when I didn't feel like one."
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I smiled sadly.
"You deserve someone who doesn't look over your shoulder when they're holding your hand."
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She looked like she might cry.
But she didn't.
She was stronger than she realized.
And maybe Damon had helped her remember that.
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"He's trying," she said finally. "And I didn't want to admit it, but… I want him to try."
I nodded again.
"It's okay," I said.
"Ethan—"
"You don't owe me an apology. You gave me what you could. I just wanted more than you had left to give."
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A soft breeze moved through the gallery as someone opened the door behind us.
I didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
I could feel the tension shift in the room.
Damon.
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He stepped inside, his eyes flicking between us.
His posture was guarded.
Wary.
Like a soldier unsure if the war was over.
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"Hey," he said to Arya.
She gave him a small nod.
Then looked at me.
"Do you want to stay for coffee?" she asked.
It felt like one of those kindnesses that cost her something.
I smiled.
Shook my head.
"No," I said. "You two have a lot to catch up on."
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I took a deep breath, then stepped toward Damon.
I held out my hand.
He looked at it like it might burn him.
Then, slowly, he shook it.
"Don't screw this up again," I said simply.
His grip tightened.
"I won't."
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I looked at Arya one last time.
She wasn't smiling.
But she wasn't lost anymore.
That was enough for me.
I turned and walked out.
The bell chimed again behind me.
And just like that…
It was done.
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Outside, the sun had started to break through the clouds.
I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, letting the light hit my face.
I didn't regret loving her.
I just wished I'd met her at a time when she wasn't still learning how to stop bleeding.
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Love doesn't always end in fireworks.
Sometimes, it ends in peace.
And that's what she deserved.
Even if it wasn't with me.
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