Chapter 4Too Late for Sorry

Five years ago, Connor was drowning in gambling debt, hiding from loan sharks. The last call he ever made was to me.

He asked for money. I said no.

The next day, they found his body at the bottom of an abandoned construction site. He’d been beaten to death.

When Maya found out, she shattered. When the police told her that Connor's last lifeline had been a call to me—a call I'd rejected—her grief curdled into pure, unadulterated hatred.

In her mind, I had killed him.

So for years, she punished me. The silent treatment, the endless parade of other men. My pain was her revenge.

When the doctor gave me the news, a bitter, spiteful thought crossed my mind: When I'm dead, will she finally be satisfied? She'd probably say I got what I deserved.

Maya followed me home that night, and the storm broke. She tore through our apartment, smashing everything she could get her hands on.

"Was it you, Leo?! Was it you?! You told them where he was! He only called you!" she shrieked, her voice raw. "So what if I still thought about him? It was just a memory! I married you! What more did you want from me?"

She screamed at me as if I were the one who had laid a hand on him.

I looked at the wreckage around us. The shattered vase I’d bought for our third anniversary. The splintered frame of a painting I loved. Everything I’d carefully chosen to build a home, destroyed without a second thought.

But then, to her, this was never a home.

"Even after he used you?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. "Even after he lied to you, over and over again, when you were together?"

"Shut up!" She was trembling with rage, a fury I hadn't seen in years. Her eyes were filled with a chilling venom. "You think you won just because he's dead? You will never win! Everything that's happening to us, to you… this is your karma, Leo. It's exactly what you deserve!"

With that, she stormed out, leaving me alone in the ruins.