Too Late For Regrets [Extra #1]

Final Part

I stared blandly at the paper before my eyes, uncaring about the tears that ruined the ink on it. I was too devastated to worry about something so insignificant, while at the same time it felt wrong to destroy the last memoir my wife left behind. I couldn't believe she hid so many secrets from me. She left me way too quickly for me to prove my worth to her. And now, I would never get the chance to fix my mistakes.

She was gone.

It happened so suddenly I had a hard time coming to terms with it.

I took her to meet up with his family at their favorite restaurant, just like my parents asked me, but when we arrived there, we were met with an unpleasant surprise. My wife's parents were there as well, despite not receiving an invitation. Her father gloated over the fact that his younger daughter would have a child while they older one couldn't, and he got drunk beyond reason. It was absolutely disgusting how he belittled his older daughter, all the while singing the younger one praises she didn't deserve. It was infuriating to watch.

As the man continued to humiliate and degrade his older daughter, she finally lost her patience and snapped at him. Soon they got in a fight, in which her father harshly punched her in the face, making her fall down to the ground with a loud thud. I was the first to react. I rushed to my wife's side, slammed my fist into her father's face to knock him out, then carefully helped her sit up, only to be pushed away by the man she brought with her. He snarled at me to not touch her, then cradled her in his arms, frantically asking her if she's okay.

She wasn't.

Before she could answer him, blood started pouring from her eyes and nose. She gasped quietly and whispered something to him then coughed up even more blood before her eyes closed.

They didn't open again.

I watched in horror as the man, who seemed to be so tough and cold, cried pitifully and trembled like a leaf while holding my wife's lifeless body in his arms. However, as soon as I took a step towards him, he turned into a beast that wanted nothing but blood. My blood.

When the ambulance came, it was already too late to do anything. My wife was gone. I would no longer see her gorgeous hazel eyes or hear her sweet voice. She mostly cursed at me or talked to me in such a cold manner that I had shivers run down my spine, but the sound of her voice was so melodic and angelic I couldn't get it out of my head. How I wished to fix my wrongdoings and start everything over with her.

It was too late now.

I couldn't even arrange her funeral, as the man who she was with took care of everything. He told me my wife wouldn't want me to be there. He didn't want to tell me where my wife would be buried, but then he changed his mind.

He came to my house, which felt so horrendously cold now that my wife would never come back to it, and handed me a book. "My Queen wrote it while we were in Florida. It's one of the few things she left behind and she told me to give it to you," he said seriously. "As much as I fucking hate you, I won't go against my Queen's wish."

"Your Queen?" I was confused about the way he was addressing my wife, but he didn't say anything about it.

I only found out the truth after reading the book I was given. It seemed like a diary that my wife wrote.

She kept so many secrets from me. She was the Red Empress, the most feared, influential and affluent woman on the west coast. And she was also the owner of the very company that I wanted to do business with. It was insane. I barely avoided bankruptcy. If my wife wanted, she could destroy me with a snap of her fingers.

For days, I avoided looking at the diary my wife left behind, afraid of what I would find there. I attended her funeral, watched a garrison of men salute at her grave then kneel before it. They stayed that way for good fifteen minutes before they got up. Then they stood by her grave at attention, none of them saying a word. I had a feeling they were associated with the Red Empire, which my wife was the boss of.

"What are you doing here? You're not welcome here," the man that was with my wife sneered at me when he saw me among the crowd. He was not happy to see me. It was clear he knew what happened between me and my wife. It could be the only reason for his hatred toward me.

"She's my wife. I think I deserve to attend her funeral."

"No, you don't. It's your fault that she's gone!" he got in my face and raised his fist to hit me. He didn't do that and instead grabbed me by the collar. "You didn't read it, did you? Had you read it, you would've known that it's because of you that she suffered so much."

"I know I did something unthinkable..."

"Then fuck off. You ruined her and now you think you have the right to stand here and pretend to mourn her death?"

Pretend? I was absolutely devastated that I lost my wife.

I only realized my feelings for her when it was too late.

If I could turn back time, I would have. I would do everything to get her back, to fix our relationship, to change the way she looked at me, to make her love me like I loved her.

After a few grueling and painful weeks, I finally got the courage to read my wife's diary.

The truth I learned from it was even more painful than her death.

"I'm a fucking monster..." I sobbed pitifully, my tears smearing the ink on the lightly colored pages. I really ruined her. The way she turned from a strong woman to a broken shell of a person was all because of me and what I'd done to her.

I hugged her diary to my chest and bawled my eyes out, screaming in agony as the pain spread through my chest like wildfire. It was debilitating. It felt like my heart would shrivel and shatter into pieces. I could only imagine it felt the same way for my wife when I hurt her. She suffered so much because of me.

I couldn't live with that.

I continued to read the rest of the diary, my tears blurring my vision to the point where it was hard to make out what was written. When I reached the end of it, I understood that my wife hated me. She despised me to the point of wanting to kill me.

However, she didn't do that. I didn't understand why. She had every right to hurt me the same way I did to her.

In fact, I wanted her to kill me. It would've been better if I died instead of her.

Or maybe... I should die with her...

A dark thought crossed my mind, and soon its roots spread through my soul.

I wanted to die with my wife. It was too late for regrets. It was time to pay for my sins.

I took a handgun from my desk's drawer, I silently loaded it and put the barrel against my temple. Taking a deep breath, I whispered, "I will soon join you, my dear wife. And I will make everything better."

And then I pulled the trigger.