His Heart Never Left Her

George's first love, Eve, was back.

She'd fallen so far that even her villa was up for auction.

I asked him if he still had feelings for her. He frowned and said that was all in the past.

I believed him.

Until his phone lit up in the middle of the night. A bank transfer notification. Eight hundred thousand dollars.

That money was used to buy Eve's villa.

He used our joint marital assets to buy back another woman's home.

I sat there holding my phone, waiting for him to wake up. Then I saw Eve's latest Instagram post:

"Some people say goodbye with their lips, but hold up the sky for you in secret."

The photo was of the villa's garden.

I suddenly remembered what George said when he proposed to me:

"I'm the kind of man who only loves once in his lifetime."

Turns out he meant every word. It's just that the one he loved was always Eve.

---

George's phone lit up again.

Eve had posted a second Instagram story. A photo of a front door, with the caption: "Home."

I stared at that door.

Last year George had taken me to see that villa. It was built by Eve's grandfather, over a hundred years old.

He said the house had history. A shame, he said, that Eve's family had lost everything.

I didn't think much of it then.

Now I understood why he knew so much about it.

The living room lights were off. The glow from the phone screen fell across my face.

I pulled up the transfer record. Eight hundred thousand, clean. The recipient was a private auction house. The memo field was filled in clearly: "Final payment villa."

He'd never been that careful when buying anything for us.

I heard movement from the bedroom. George woke up and shuffled out in his slippers. He saw me sitting on the couch and stopped.

"Why aren't you in bed?"

I turned the phone screen toward him.

George went still. He walked over and reached for the phone. I pulled it back.

"Eve's villa. You bought it?"

He didn't answer.

"I'm talking to you."

"Yes." His voice was quiet. "Her place was going to auction. I helped her get it back. Don't worry I'll cover the money from somewhere else. It won't affect us."

I almost laughed. "Won't affect us." We'd been married three years. His money and my money had long since blurred together. Now he was saying this "wouldn't affect us" like it was a shared decision? Eight hundred thousand dollars, and he just did it. Without asking me once.

"When did you decide to do this?"

"Just... recently."

"Recently?" I checked the transfer date again. "Ten days ago. For ten days you ate dinner with me, slept next to me, and said nothing."

George frowned. "I didn't want you overthinking it."

"Overthinking what, exactly?"

He looked at me for a moment, then sighed. "Karen, Eve and I are history. She's in a tough spot and I helped her out. That's all. Don't read into it."

"That's all."

Then why did you write "Eve's villa" in the transfer memo? Why did you like every Instagram post she put up the second she uploaded it? How did you even know her family villa was going to auction the moment she got back?

None of that happens without effort.

I didn't say any of that. I only said one thing: "You helping her I have no problem with that. But you used our joint money to do it without even mentioning it to me. Do you think that's okay?"

George's expression shifted. He sat down across from me, hands folded over his knees, voice softer now. "You're right, I should have talked to you first. I just wanted to lock in the bid before someone else got it. That house means everything to her family."

"It means a lot to you too, doesn't it?"

---

He didn't respond.

Eve posted another Instagram story. Nine photos this time. The living room, the study, the garden, and one of herself no makeup, wearing a white dress, standing in front of a carved wooden door. She looked distant and untouched.

The caption read: "Thank you for being the one who stayed when everyone else walked away."

I almost laughed out loud.

That post was clearly meant for George.

"What exactly is going on between you and her right now?"

"Nothing." George looked at me. "I told you, I was just helping her."

"Then what does that post mean?"

"How should I know what she means." He was getting impatient. "Can you stop being so sensitive?"

"Sensitive."

The first time he called me sensitive was the day Eve left the country. He'd had a lot to drink that night. I asked what was wrong. He said nothing. I pressed and asked if it was about Eve. He said I was being sensitive.

The second time was when we ran into one of Eve's friends at the mall. The woman smiled and told George that Eve was back. George said he knew. On the way home, I asked when they'd been in touch. Sensitive again.

This was the third time.

I stood up from the couch and handed him his phone.

"If you want to be there for her that badly, I'll step aside."

George's head snapped up. "What does that mean?"

"Exactly what I said." I looked at him. "You two were always supposed to be together. If she hadn't insisted on leaving, you never would have married me. Now she's back and she's struggling, and you feel guilty. I get it."

"Karen "

"I'm tired. We can talk tomorrow."

I walked into the bedroom and closed the door.

My hands were shaking. Not from anger. It was because I knew I was right. The day George proposed, I asked him why he chose me. He said, "You make sense." I thought that was just how he was not the type to say romantic things.

Now I understood. He genuinely meant it. I "made sense". Practical. Suitable.

Nothing like Eve, who had never left his mind.

My phone buzzed. A message from George.

"I only see Eve as a friend. If it bothers you, I'll cut off contact."

I didn't reply.

He sent another: "The eight hundred thousand was my mistake. Tomorrow I'll transfer it back into our joint account. Consider it a loan from me to myself."

Still nothing.

When the third message came in, I turned off my phone.

It had started raining outside at some point. I lay down and stared at the ceiling. Three years ago on our wedding day, I thought I was the luckiest woman in the world.

George was good-looking, successful, and thoughtful in his own way. He promised not to keep flowers in the house because I'm allergic to pollen. He said he didn't like cats, but he helped me take care of three. He remembered everything about me.

I thought it was because he loved me.

Looking back now, maybe he was just someone who knew how to take care of people. A habit, not a feeling.

It didn't really matter who that person was.

I couldn't sleep. A little past two in the morning, I got up to get some water and found the living room light still on.

George was awake.

He was sitting on the couch, phone in hand, screen still lit. I walked closer and saw the name at the top of the screen.

Eve's messages.

The last one was from her: "George, thank you for today. When do you want to come pick up the spare key to the villa?"

Time stamp: one minute ago.

He hadn't replied yet.

I stood behind him for a long time without him noticing. Finally I spoke first. "If you want to go see her, just go. You don't have to hide it from me."

---

George spun around. His phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor.

"When did you get up?"

"Right when you were about to reply to her."

He bent down to grab the phone and pressed the power button before he'd even straightened up. Screen went dark.

"I wasn't planning to go see her."

"Then why haven't you replied?"

"I was figuring out what to say."

"Figuring out how to keep me from finding out?"

George looked at me, eyes shot through with red. "Do you have to talk like that, Karen?"

"How do you want me to talk?" I set my glass on the table. "You say there's nothing going on, but she's texting you at two in the morning and you can't even answer her with me standing right here. You say the eight hundred thousand was just a favor, but every post she puts up is thanking you. What am I supposed to think?"

George stood up and kept his voice low. "Three years of marriage. When have I ever lied to you?"

"You're lying to me right now."

He said nothing.

I looked him in the eye. "George. Do you still have feelings for her?"

A long silence.

Long enough that I thought he wasn't going to answer.

"I'm not the type to be led around by my emotions," he said.

I almost smiled.

What a careful answer. Not "I don't love her" just "I'm not that sentimental." Which meant: yes, there was something there, but maybe not anymore. Or maybe just not as much.

But if you spend eight hundred thousand on a villa for a woman you claim not to love, if you sit up past midnight waiting on her texts is that what "not being led around" looks like?

I didn't say any of that. I picked up my water glass and went back to the bedroom.

I lay there listening to the sounds from the living room. He was on the phone, voice pressed low, but I still caught pieces of it.

"...keep the key. I'm not coming."

"It's fine, don't worry about it."

"Get some rest."

After he hung up, the living room was quiet for a long time. Then I heard his footsteps. He came to the bedroom door, paused, and walked away.

He never came in.

I barely slept. Just before dawn, I heard the front door. I got up and looked out. His car was gone.

Where did he go?

I picked up my phone. Eve had posted a voice note on Instagram. I pressed play.

Her voice was thick, like she'd been crying. "George, you're really not coming? I want to see you."

Posted fifteen minutes ago.

George had left fifteen minutes ago.

I sat on the edge of the bed and felt something almost absurd settle over me. Three years of marriage. He never left the house in the morning without telling me. Every single thing that had been off about him traced straight back to Eve.

Then his other phone buzzed. The one he'd left at home.

I picked it up.

Twenty-something unread messages on the screen. All from Eve. The newest was a voice note. I pressed play.

"George, I was wrong back then. I never should have left. I regret it so much I really do. You still care about me, don't you? You wouldn't have bought the villa if you didn't. You told me once that the biggest regret of your life was not being able to make me stay. I'm back now. Can you... give me another chance?"

The voice note ended. A text came in right after.

"You said it yourself the one thing you regret most is losing me. I'm here now. Can't we try again?"

I set the phone down.

"The biggest regret of his life."

On our wedding night, during the toast, he'd smiled and said: "I have nothing left to regret."

That wasn't the truth, was it.

The doorbell rang.

I went to answer it. A woman stood outside. White dress, long hair, red-rimmed eyes.

Eve.

She saw me and blinked, then forced a small smile. "Karen, is George home?"

---

"No."

"He promised to come by today and help me go over the renovation plans for the villa. I've been waiting and he's not answering his phone." She peered past me into the apartment. "Can I come in and wait?"

I stepped aside.

When she walked in, her eyes swept the entryway. George's shoes were there. His jacket. His car key fob.

"George hasn't gone out today?"

"He has."

"But all his things are still here."

I didn't answer. I watched her settle onto the couch the exact spot where George had been sitting last night.

Eve seemed to sense something. She looked down and started fiddling with her fingers. "Karen, please don't get the wrong idea. There's nothing going on between George and me. He's just been helping me deal with some things related to the villa."

"I know."

"I just got back and I don't really know anyone here anymore. He was the only person I could ask."

"Sure."

She looked up at me, something unreadable in her expression. "George is such a good person. I wish I'd never left."

She said it so lightly. But I understood perfectly.

She was telling me that if she had stayed, I would never have been standing in this home.

I didn't respond. The sound of a key in the lock. George walked in and went completely still when he saw Eve on the couch.

Eve stood up, eyes already going glassy. "George."

He glanced at me, then back at her. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't reach you, so I came myself." Her voice had a slight catch in it. "I wanted to look at the renovation plans. You said you'd show me today."

George pulled a folder from his bag and held it out to her. "The plans are here. Take them home with you."

Eve took the folder but didn't move. She stood there, looking between the two of us, and bit her lip. "Did you two have a fight? Because of me?"

Before George could speak, I answered first. "No. We never fight."

That was the truth. Three years and we'd never once raised our voices at each other. I used to think that was proof of how solid we were. Now I realized it was because he never cared enough to.

After Eve left, the silence in the living room was suffocating.

George stood with his hands in his pockets, not moving.

Eventually I was the one who spoke. "You left your other phone here. Eve had sent messages. I saw them by accident."

His fingers twitched. He said nothing.

"Why did you two break up back then?"

A long silence.

"Her family sent her abroad. They didn't approve."

"Did she say anything to you before she left?"

"Yes." His voice dropped. "She told me to wait for her."

"You didn't."

"I waited two years. She never came back."

"So you settled for me."

I didn't say it.

George looked at me. "Karen, that chapter is closed. I'll talk to her and make it clear. We won't be in contact anymore."

I looked him in the eye. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"I'm sure."

"Then tell me something. When you bought that villa were you doing it to help her, or were you holding on to something you couldn't let go of?"

George opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

I had my answer.

"I want a divorce."

George froze.

"What did you just say?"

"A divorce."

He stared at me for a few seconds, then gave a short, disbelieving laugh. "You're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

He put down what he was holding and walked toward me. "Because of Eve?"

"Not because of her." I looked up at him. "Because of you."