"Great! I don't want her within ten feet of October. I don't want her name in the same room. I don't care how you do it, just find a way. If she so much as breathes in her direction again, I want it documented, reported, and shut down."
When he hung up, he turned to me slowly, as though afraid I might break under his gaze.
"I swear to you, October," he said, voice low, unsteady. "She will never come near you again. I will burn every bridge she tries to cross if I have to. I'm so sorry you had to see her. That you had to hear her voice. That she ever made you feel less than whole."
I didn't respond right away. My chest was still heaving, my hands still trembling.  Just as Thomas finished apologizing, his phone buzzed on the nightstand, screen flashing: Unknown Number. We both froze. My heart kicked hard against my ribs. "Do you think...?" I whispered.
Thomas didn't answer right away. His jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the screen. His thumb hovered over the Decline button, then, quietly but firmly, he said, "I'll answer. I'll put it on speaker, okay?"
I nodded, breath caught. "Okay," I murmured, barely more than a breath.
He answered with the faintest, humorless smirk,  "Laura." His voice was low, flat, dangerous. There was a small gasp on the other end, then her voice, sticky-sweet but tight around the edges.
"Oh... you answered. Thomas, I'm so glad. I just, look, I know you're upset, but I had to. I saw your wife tonight and she was just... she was awful to me. So mean, so rude.. I really, really need your help. Just to explain to the court, or your lawyer..."
He didn't even let her finish.
"My wife," he cut in, his voice suddenly sharp as a blade, "wasn't mean. She was merciful."
Silence on the line. It crackled between them like static before a storm. "You want mean?"  he went on, "If you dare come near her, near me, near my children? You'll see just how cruel I can be."

"Thomas..Listen..," she answered.
 "You're so pathetic, Laura. Pathetic and disgusting. But the worst part? That's on me. I let you in. I opened the door. I gave you proximity to a life you were never worthy of and no matter what happens with October, no matter if she finds a way to forgive me—I won't. Not myself. Not ever. Because you?" He let out a bitter laugh. "You're the living embodiment of the worst thing I've ever allowed to happen."
She tried to speak, voice faint, trembling. "Thomas, please, don't—"
"No," he said, voice low and clipped.  Another beat of silence. And then his voice dropped, low, deadly calm.
"You approached my wife without warning. In a public place. You cornered her. That wasn't a misstep, that wasn't misjudged affection or a 'moment of desperation', that was predatory. You crossed a line you are never coming back from. I've already contacted my lawyer. Tomorrow morning, we file for a restraining order. You'll be served within the week. After that, every interaction, every word, every glance in her direction becomes admissible evidence. You so much as show up within 500 feet of her, and we'll have you arrested. Don't test me. You know I have the reach."
He let the words hang before continuing, quieter now, more terrifying in its control.
"I will dismantle your credibility," he said, voice controlled, almost bored. "Quietly. Completely. Right now, you're facing five to seven years  mostly for fraud but after this call? I'll make sure it's worse."
"Thomas, don't you dare. I will ruin you and that pitiful little wife of yours."
He let a breath out slowly, then replied, calm and clinical: "Noted. That's a direct threat — to me, to October and this call?" A small pause. "It's being recorded. So thank you, Laura. You've just made my case airtight."
"You bastard," she snapped, venom rising. "You think this is going to scare me?"
"No," I said, my voice flat now, final. "I think it's going to finish you. You're already under investigation for fraud.  Your credibility's in shreds. But this? This is a cherry on top. You've handed me legal ammunition."
He hang up and then he slowly set the phone down on the stand. He didn't look at me right away. Instead, he stood there for a moment, head lowered, shoulders heavy with something between shame and exhaustion. Like all the years of denial, guilt, and silence had finally settled on his back.
His chest rose and fell once, shaky, uneven. Then he turned to me. His eyes were glassy, rimmed with a kind of vulnerability I hadn't seen in him in a long time. His voice was low, barely more than a breath. "Can I hold you, please?"
For a heartbeat, I hesitated. Then I nodded. He crossed the space between us and wrapped his arms around me, slow and careful, like he was afraid I'd shatter. His warmth pressed against me, his heartbeat hammering just as fast as mine.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered into my hair, voice breaking. "You should never have been put in that position. It's my fault. I brought her into our lives. I will regret that for the rest of my life."
My hands moved, almost of their own accord, gripping the back of his shirt, bunching the fabric between my fingers. His scent, faint cologne, warm skin, and something soft and familiar, wrapped around me and pulled something deeper from my chest: a sob I'd been swallowing for too long.
"It's not fair," I whispered, voice raw. "It's so unfair. I didn't do anything to deserve this, Thomas."
"I know," he murmured, voice shaking. "You didn't. You were only ever good. Only ever mine and I was... careless. Blind and it hurt you. I'm so, so sorry, mon amour." His hand came up to cup the side of my face, thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't noticed had fallen. His gaze was so open, so painfully earnest, it almost hurt to look at him.
Then he pressed his lips to my forehead, not in a rushed or possessive way, but slow, almost reverent like he was asking for permission, not taking it. I closed my eyes, letting the heat of him seep into the cold places inside me. Then, still holding me, his voice dropped lower, almost hoarse. "You are the best thing that ever happened to me and I'm sorry I didn't protect you better."
I leaned my forehead against his chest. For a while, we stood there, breathing the same air, hearts beating against each other, both a little broken but still here. Then gently, Thomas pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes rimmed red but soft.
 "Come," he murmured. "Let's go sit down. Just let me take care of you, even if it's only tonight."
Once I sat on the edge of the bed, he knelt before me and took off my shoes, his touch careful, reverent. He undressed me in silence, layer by layer, his eyes never wandering, only watching my face as if making sure I was still here. Still with him.
He helped me to the bathroom. Ran the water. Chose the scent I always reached for when I needed comfort, he had noticed that.  As the tub filled, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, his cheek resting against my shoulder. The steam curled around us like a veil.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice low and shaking. "For all the ways I failed you. For the silences, for the times I let you carry the weight alone. You are everything to me, and I'll spend every day proving it." I leaned into him, eyes closed, and let him lower me into the water like something breakable.
Later, warm and drowsy, I climbed into bed while he pulled the sheets back. He got in behind me, his chest pressed to my back, one arm anchoring me to him as if he was afraid I'd vanish in the night.
"I've got you," he whispered into my hair. "Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."
 I did. I let go.