A Love Derailed

Theodore Thorne doesn’t love me.
He doesn’t hold our child. He pays no mind to my career. Whenever reporters mention my name in public, his lips press into a thin, hard line. He never responds.
During our last fight, I asked him with a hollow laugh, Theo, don't I even deserve an introduction to your friends? Am I that embarrassing? Or am I just not good enough for you?
He would always counter with reddened eyes, his voice strained. "Evelyn, please don't do this. Just… wait a little longer, okay?"
I laughed until tears streamed down my face.
"Then let's get a divorce."

1
The day our daughter was born, Theodore was nowhere to be seen.
I glanced at the tiny infant nestled beside me, then shifted my gaze to his aunt, who was pacing by the window. Her brow was furrowed in frustration as she dialed his number again and again, each call going straight to voicemail.
"Aunt Carol, please, just stop," I said, a bitter sense of absurdity washing over me. "He's not coming back."
Tonight was the opening night of the renowned violinist Seraphina Claudio's European tour in London. Yesterday evening, after marathon sessions to close a major project, Theodore hadn't even bothered to come home. He’d booked the first flight to London, all to witness the premiere of his old flame.
My phone screen lit up silently, pushing a news alert.
Violinist Seraphina Claudio’s Opening Night a Resounding Success.
I put on my headphones and played the interview.
On camera, Seraphina was the picture of grace in a champagne-colored gown, her makeup flawless, her smile gentle and warm. "Thank you all so much," she said. "I'm deeply honored to begin my tour here and to receive such a wonderful reception."
A reporter pressed on with a smile. "Ms. Claudio, backstage we saw so many legends of the music world showing their support. Is there anyone in particular you'd like to thank tonight?"
Seraphina offered a sweet, knowing smile to the camera. "I'm grateful to every mentor and friend who came." She paused, as if choosing her words with care. "But tonight, the person I want to thank most is a friend I've known for many, many years."
She lifted her head, her gaze boring directly into the lens. "There's so much I don't know how to say to him in person, so I hope he'll let me borrow this special moment."
Her voice trembled, just slightly. She seemed to choke back a wave of emotion.
"Even though, all those years ago… we were separated by… circumstances beyond our control, in my heart, he will always, always be my dearest friend."
"I want him to know," she continued, her voice soft but clear, "that I've always known he is a good, truly good man."
My heart stuttered to a stop. A chilling numbness spread through my fingertips.
I opened the comments section, and my breath caught in my throat.
【OMG, she's totally talking about Theodore Thorne! It’s so obvious!】
【100% him. They were the perfect couple back in the day—the tragic high-society romance, the beautiful artist and the brooding heir. It’s a classic story!】
【"Friends?" Who is she kidding? That look in her eyes is pure, undiluted love.】
【I'm crying. The one that got away will always be the one. No one else ever stands a chance!】
【Theo is so devoted. He flew across the ocean just for her opening night. Turns out even titans of industry have someone they can't let go of.】
【I bet Mrs. Thorne is crying her eyes out in the maternity ward right now. Well, that's what you get for marrying a man with an epic lost love in his past.】
【Losing to the old flame… how humiliating. But it’s not like Evelyn Reed has any right to be upset. Their marriage was just a business arrangement. You can't compare that to true love.】
Every word was a barb, a fresh twist of the knife.
I switched off my phone, a final, cold resignation settling over me.
Theodore is my husband.
Seraphina was the great, passionate love of his youth.
And I… I am just a joke.

2
Later that night, the door to my room creaked open.
I looked up. Theodore stood in the doorway. His suit was immaculate, but his hair was a mess, and dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes. For a fleeting moment, our gazes met before I quickly looked away.
The maternity nurse, Mrs. Gable, was gently rocking our daughter in her arms. Seeing Theodore, she smiled warmly. "Congratulations, Mr. Thorne. You have a beautiful baby girl."
Theodore’s eyes flickered to the baby, but his expression remained flat, unreadable. "Is she healthy?"
Mrs. Gable, assuming he’d want to hold his child, moved to pass the bundle to him. But Theodore made no move to take her, his arms remaining rigidly at his sides. An awkward silence hung in the air before Mrs. Gable drew back.
"All her vitals are perfect," she said, recovering smoothly. "She was a little early, but her weight is good. No need for the incubator."
Theodore nodded once. "Thank you for your hard work." He then addressed her directly. "Could you take the baby out for a moment? I need to speak with Evelyn alone."
As she left, he turned to the assistant hovering by the door, his tone all business. "Contact PR. Prepare a press release announcing the birth of the Thorne Industries heiress. And execute the donation plan we discussed—five hundred million, split among the charitable foundations on my list. Also, that new foundation proposal I drafted? Start the paperwork tomorrow."
Theodore was always methodical, always detached. He approached every situation with a clinical precision, devoid of emotion. Even faced with the birth of his own child, there wasn't a flicker of excitement or joy. Just a calm, orderly execution of a plan.
I once thought I was different. I thought, perhaps, that with me, he allowed himself to feel. Just a little.
After all, I loved him so much.
But in the end, I had vastly overestimated my own importance.
The assistant closed the door behind him, leaving us alone. The vast suite was silent, the scent of white roses on the table doing nothing to cut through the suffocating tension.
"Evelyn," Theodore said, stepping closer. His face was a mask of apology. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here. I was on the plane all day. I didn't see the calls or texts until we landed."
"Theodore," I said, my voice calmer than I could have imagined. "Let's get a divorce."
"What?" He froze, genuine shock flickering in his eyes. "Evelyn, are you joking?" The hospital lights cast harsh shadows on his face, accentuating his exhaustion.
"I know I let you down," he said, his voice earnest, logical, like a negotiator trying to close a deal. "But I swear it wasn't intentional. I had the timeline perfectly calculated. I was going to wrap up that project proposal and then clear my schedule completely to be here with you. I never imagined the baby would come early… I never thought you'd… that you almost died on the operating table. I’m sorry. It was my oversight."
If I were anyone else…
If I hadn't spent years waiting for him…
If I hadn't seen that interview…
Maybe, just maybe, I would have believed him.
But I was done lying to myself.
I cut him off, taking a deep breath to steady my voice. "Theodore. That’s not the reason."
It was never just about that.

3
Theodore didn't press his case. He didn't leave, either. Instead, he sank into the armchair by the window, pulling his laptop from his briefcase. He started typing, perhaps dealing with work, perhaps scrolling through the gossip columns buzzing with his name.
His presence was meant to be a silent, placating apology. A way to manage the situation.
But that was never what I needed from him.
The room was so quiet I could hear the sound of our breathing.
Seraphina had called Theodore a good, truly good man.
Perhaps he was.
But all of his goodness, all of his warmth, was reserved for someone else.
He loved Seraphina when they were young. After our marriage, he never mentioned her name, but a wall of polite distance always stood between us. He was never truly mine.
He wouldn't even hold our child.
"Theodore," I said, my voice raspy. "Please leave. I don't want to see you." I took a steadying breath. "And have your lawyer draft the divorce papers as soon as possible."
This time, I was setting him free. And in doing so, I was finally freeing myself.
From outside the door, our daughter’s heartbroken cries tore through the silence. Mrs. Gable brought her to me, and I held her close, whispering soothing words as a wave of guilt threatened to drown me.
I had dreamed that my daughter would be the happiest child in the world. I would give her everything: a loving home, endless affection, the very best of what life had to offer. I truly believed Theodore and I were healing, that our relationship was finally on solid ground.
I thought her father would be as overjoyed by her arrival as I was.
Reality had delivered a vicious slap to the face.
I was wrong. So terribly, devastatingly wrong.

4
Sometime during the night, the rain had stopped.
I took the bottle from Mrs. Gable and gently placed it at my daughter's lips.
Hope. That’s what I named her.
Her father might not welcome her into this world, but it didn't matter. Beyond my connection to Theodore, I came from a family of considerable means. For the rest of my life, as long as I was here, I would ensure my daughter wanted for nothing.
I didn't ask for much. I just wanted her to be happy and safe.
The next morning, a knock came at the door. A young woman with a sharp, chic bob and a dimpled smile introduced herself as Lily, an employee from Theodore's company. She was carrying a bouquet of pink roses so fresh they looked like they were still beaded with morning dew.
"Good morning, Mrs. Thorne," she chirped. "Mr. Thorne had these ordered for you especially. I just picked them up from the florist."
She worked with a cheerful efficiency, finding a vase, filling it with water, and arranging the stems with a practiced hand. Next, she produced a velvet jewelry box from her tote bag and placed it on the table beside me, opening it with a flourish.
"And this, Mrs. Thorne. Mr. Thorne acquired it at an auction last month. He said emeralds are your favorite."
Lying on the black velvet was a breathtaking necklace. A massive, brilliant-green emerald served as the centerpiece, surrounded by a halo of dazzling diamonds that caught the light and scattered it in a fiery display. Anyone could see it was a collector's piece, flawless and incredibly valuable.
A year ago, I might have been thrilled. I might have seen it as a sign that Theodore was finally starting to care.
But after yesterday, I would never again be so foolish as to flatter myself. That kind of humiliation was something you only needed to experience once.
"Mr. Thorne was incredibly busy at the time, but he insisted on going to the Christie's auction himself," Lily chattered on. "He said he wanted to prepare the perfect surprise for you with his own hands."
"Thank you," I said, my voice flat.
I didn't have the heart to refuse. Lily seemed bright and earnest, untouched by the weary cynicism of corporate life. She was probably new. My issues with Theodore were my own; there was no need to make this young woman's job more difficult.
Theodore didn't have any female assistants. He'd always claimed he was awkward around women. Lily must have been called up from the front desk. If I sent her back with the necklace, she’d have to explain her failure to her boss, and I wouldn't do that to her.
"Mr. Thorne has a series of unavoidable meetings today, which is why he sent me," she explained, though a flicker of uncertainty crossed her face. "But he said he'll come see you and the baby as soon as he can tonight…"
I simply nodded, indicating I understood.
Staring at the priceless piece of jewelry—a treasure that would make any woman swoon—I just felt tired. It wasn't a gift. It was compensation. Theodore was trying to smooth things over, to patch up the wound he’d inflicted.
He always did this.
Every conflict between us, every disappointment he caused, was eventually papered over with some extravagant purchase. He seemed to believe that money and material things could mend any emotional rift, fill any void.
But if money was what I wanted, why would I have married him when he was at his lowest, when his company was on the brink of collapse?
What I wanted, what I had always wanted, was his heart.
He had once promised me he could learn to return my affection.
I had believed him.
And all it had brought me was a landscape of disappointment.
Hope stirred in her bassinet, her eyes blinking open. For once, she was quiet, not crying. Lily's attention was immediately captivated.
"Oh, she's adorable!" she cooed. "How can a newborn be so fair, with such a perfect little nose?" She beamed at me. "You and Mr. Thorne are so lucky. Imagine coming home to a beautiful baby like this every day…"
I managed a weak smile. "Thank you."
But behind the flicker of pride was a vast, hollow emptiness.
Theodore didn't like this child. Why would he ever be happy to come home to her?

5
After a while, Mrs. Gable took the baby for a walk down the hall.
"Lily," I said, meeting her gaze directly. I had to say it. "Thank you for coming all this way."
"When you get back to the office, could you pass along a message for me?"
Lily’s cheerful demeanor vanished, replaced by a professional focus. "Of course, Mrs. Thorne. What should I tell him?"
I held her gaze, my voice steady and clear. "Tell him that what I said last night… I meant every word."
"I want a divorce."
This wasn't a threat. It wasn't a cry for attention.
When I loved someone, I gave them my entire being.
But when I stopped loving them, I would tear myself away with the same ferocious intensity.
Every word I spoke was the truth.
"Mrs. Thorne?" Lily’s composure shattered, her voice trembling slightly. "Did you say… a divorce?"
"Yes," I confirmed. The word, once spoken aloud, felt like a heavy stone being lifted from my chest. The suffocating weight, the constant ache—it was finally gone.
"Please, ask him to have the papers drawn up as soon as possible."
I was done loving Theodore Thorne.
This long, arduous journey toward him, a journey I had walked alone, was now, officially, over.
Perhaps it should have ended years ago. It should have ended when I walked toward him, my heart wide open, and he never once turned to welcome me in. All those years of waiting felt like a farcical play, and the only way to salvage what was left of myself was to erase his name from my life completely.

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