Forever Again: Billionaire's Regret

Why did time choose to stall?

Why was everything in slow motion?

Leo's eyes darted to the wall clock-2:13 A.M.

She stayed out late recently, but never this late. He rushed to the bathroom, splashing water on his face. The calming effect he wanted hadn't kicked in. Each scenario playing in his head was suddenly the worst. His breath heavy, hanging by a thread. Guilt washed over him-did he push her too hard?

Usually, Kacey would be fast asleep, with an abused cup bleeding with strong emotions and whiskey-or vodka. It all depended on how bad the day had been. Or how late he was.

He glanced at the clock again-2:15 A.M. Two minutes.

Two fucking minutes!

He snatched the keys from the table, unsure where to start his search. He flung the door open.

Leo tripped. "Fuck!" He stumbled on something. Picking himself up, he prowled towards the heap of mess lying at his doorstep. "Kacey?" He whispered.

Kacey must have felt nothing, her sleep unperturbed by his fall.

Leo glanced back, scrutinising for prying eyes. "Oh, thank God," a relieved sigh escaped his lips.

As he carried Kacey to the bed, her weight rested on his forearms, and her body leaned against his chest.

The air hung thick with the scent of stale whiskey and regret. Leo sat on the edge of the bed, watching his wife, Kacey, snore softly. A half-empty bottle of bourbon clutched underneath her armpit. He reached over and retrieved it.

The loss of their children affected her greatly.

He feared whatever was left of Kacey was the bottle staring right back at him.

Leo gaped. Holy crap, is that blood? He probed her body. He squinted, getting a good view of the white powder that smeared her nose. Anger-hot and furious-surged through him. He wanted to scream, to shake her awake, to demand an explanation for her behaviour, but all he could do was drag the duvet over her, tucking her in for a warm sleep.

No cuts.

It wasn't her blood.

Why? Why did she choose to drown her sorrows like this, to go back to whom she escaped?

This was a far cry from the woman he vowed to spend the rest of his life with. And yet, he didn't question his feelings for her. Even now, looking at her, she warmed his heart.

She tossed about, unaware of her surroundings-of his presence, of his pain, of his struggle.

***

The day broke and the usual silence resumed. Leo walked into the kitchen, the heavenly aroma of his wife's coffee inviting him. "We have to talk." His words fragile, a rehearsed effort to protect his wife's emotions.

She dreaded this. It was only a matter of time before he got fed up. Is this the moment? She slowly raised her evading gaze, "What about?" Increased thumps drummed against her chest, and head.

Leo stayed silent, rummaging through the cabinets.

"If you want coffee, I made you one."

Leo wanted to say no, to continue looking, scouring. Maybe, just maybe, he would find out what went wrong. He would fix things. They would go back to what they used to be. It was over a year, and he couldn't remember when last they said I love you, to each other.

The cup scraped over the counter, spilling a fair share as it came to a halt before Leo.

Pop! She swallowed some pills.

"What you want to talk about?" She slurped her coffee.

The image from this morning flooded him; the way she sprawled on the ground-helpless, classless. He took a deep breath, the air filled his lungs with the scent of despair. As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn't lash out. Not now. Not when she was vulnerable, recovering from the fog of intoxication.

Gently, he reached the warm ceramic cup, and took a long drag of the coffee.

"Where is your car?" He found something else to say.

"Um," she fumbled, her mind searching for a plausible explanation. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I don't know." She walked to the sink, rinsing her cup. "I guess I left it out. I'll go get it." She said dismissively.

He sighed. "Should I be worried?"

Kacey's hands froze for a second. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Her chest wouldn't pound like this if she believed her words. Leo was everything she wanted in a partner-most of everything. He'd been supportive, and he loved her; more than anything and anyone in the world. Her conscience always tugged at her heart when she'd wake up with banging headaches and foul breaths that reeked of alcohol. Testament of long, endless nights of vain attempts at forgetting the tragedies that tore her world apart.

But he dares not bring her father into this.

He shrugged, "Look, I'm just worried. You've been acting different lately. Leaving the car out, forgetting appointments..."

"I'm not forgetting appointments!" She snapped, "I also told you why I left the car out, I was..." she trailed off, finding it hard to repeat her ridiculous excuse.

He raised an eyebrow, "Right, because getting blackout drunk is a perfectly valid reason to leave your car out god-knows-where. I don't know what you think you are doing, but that is not how to go about it. We can forget about all this. We can move on with our lives."

"Easy for you to say. You are the son of the great Monroe." She said sarcastically. "You are not the refugee-"

Leo cut in. "Stop it!"

Tears welled up in her eyes, "I can't act like nothing happened, Leo. Don't you get it?" Her voice mournful and heartbreaking.

"I do," Leo hugged her from behind.

She shrugged his hands off. She was frustrated with herself, with her regression. She thought she had overcome this, but there was too much loss around her. She couldn't bear it any longer. Her world imploded in a matter of weeks.

First, she lost her rock, her guiding light-her mother's passing left a gaping hole in her heart. And then, the unthinkable happened: fire engulfed her car, razing her two precious daughters into nothing, but ash. The agony of losing an entire family in one cruel sweep had left her shattered, a shell of the person she once was.

How do you smile and stay sane after that?

No one could understand. Leo tried his best. He was always there for her, but this was beyond even him. He offered to do anything and everything for them to get back to what they used to be, but that was the problem: he loved her more than anything and anyone in the world. How could she put up such performance? An act. This plunged Kacey deeper into her misery.

"You never wanted kids anyway. They were my babies, not yours. I'm sure you waited for a day like this."

She had said too much, but she needed to be alone. To be fucking left alone!

Leo opened his mouth, ready to let out his pent-up rage, only to be stopped by the doorbell. He stomped towards the door.

"Yes?!"

Shocked, he narrowed his brows at the cops. "How may I help you?"

"Rough morning?"

Leo kept mute, staring at the two officers.

The male cop cleared his throat, "Okay. We would like to have a word with a..." he took out a notepad to crosscheck, "Mrs. Monroe. She here?"

His eyes snapped wide. "Um, yeah... why? Is there a problem?"

"No. No, of course not, we just want to get some information from her." He peeked behind Leo. "It will be really helpful for our case." He let out a smile-a trained smile, to deceive, to persuade.

Leo hesitated. "What information could you possibly want from my wife?"

"We ran a plate at the scene of a crime, and it was registered to her. This house address also popped up. Can you please let her know we're here? To save everyone's time." He took a serious tone, an air of urgency plastered on his face.

Kacey appeared behind Leo, "What do they want?"

"Mrs. Monroe, you are under arrest for the death of Mr. Parker. You have the right..."

The words faded into the background as Leo froze. The environment around him seemed to blur into a dream-a nightmare. Suddenly, the house felt small, a building envied by the wealthiest neighbors trapped him like a cage. Blue and red lights entertained the onlookers, fading into a distant eerie hum. A cold dread washed over him.

What the fuck just happened?