💔💔Regret Came After the Divorce

1

With the last packing box in her hands, Emma stood in the doorway, gazing at the empty hall. The walls that had echoed with her father’s laughter, the floors that had carried his dreams felt like a hollow shell. Her tears blurred everything and she let them spill freely — each drop was a burden of its own. It was inconceivable that all that her father had built with his sweat and toil had vanished, seeped through her fingers despite her feverish struggle to keep it intact.

She had fought so hard, clinging to hope, but maybe Alexander was right. Maybe it was time to let go. The thought pierced her heart, and a fresh wave of grief washed over her. With trembling hands, she looked around the hall that had been her father's legacy, her life's purpose. Then she turned and walked out of the hall and locked the door behind her, knowing as she did that a part of her soul went with it. And promising herself that she would never return—never to this place, never to these memories that were now not even bittersweet but only dolorous scars.

A short, stocky man hurried up to her, taking the box from her arms. It was Carl, her personal driver for as long as she had been married. He carefully placed the box in the backseat of the car before opening the door for her. She gave him a small smile but he knew better than to ask how she was doing. Carl had seen how much toll this had taken on her and his heart broke for this woman.

The drive home was a blur. Emma sat in the back seat, her eyes on the landscape speeding by, but not truly taking it in. She felt numbed, all but paralyzed by disbelief and something akin to grief. Part of her was still trying to collect herself, to steady the fragments of that terrible shock. By the time they reached their destination, Emma knew she had no choice but to rouse herself from her stupor. She couldn’t let others see her shattered like this. Not yet.

Evening had come before she knew it. The faint light of dusk sent long shadows across the floor as Emma made her way to the kitchen, her low heels echoing on the polished tiles. Miranda, a chef, smiled at her but Emma waved her away.

"Miranda, tonight I'll take care of dinner," she answered in a level voice, but one that held so much more underneath the words. "You have the night off."

Miranda hesitated, it quite took her aback. Emma wasn't one for letting anyone else take over the cooking, but she wasn't going to argue. She nodded, picking up her things, leaving Emma to ponder in peace.

Emma could not help but think, as she cut the vegetables and tended the pots in the kitchen, that things started to change between them. After five years of cold distance and silent words, there was this fragile warmth beginning to grow between them—an analogy to tending to a small flame. And Emma made up her mind to care for it and to feed it with everything it needed, even if it meant self-sacrifice through doing all these necessary chores. Maybe, just maybe, they could manage to construct again what they had never actually owned in the first place.

She took care in setting the table when the meal was cooked: the candles flickering softly in the center, the glow warm against the fine china. She had picked out a gown for the evening, deep red in color with the richness and vibrancy of blood against her pale skin. She'd pulled her hair back firmly into a ponytail, simple and elegant, just the way Alexander liked it.

She looked at her watch, and her heart was beating with expectation. This evening felt somehow not like many others, full of the promise of new and perhaps better times. She sat down and waited for him, hoping that maybe something new would pop up in their lives this night.

Alexander usually arrived home around eight in the evening, and his punctuality was something Emma had grown to rely on. Tonight, however, time crawled by, and by ten, he had still not appeared. She kept a strong heart and waited, refusing to let disappointment take root despite the growing ache in her chest. The hours ticked by, the candles burned low, and still she waited.

It wasn't until eleven forty-five that she finally heard the recognizable crunch of his car in the garage. Relief washed over her, but tinged with a flutter of anxiety. She nuked dinner quickly, hands shaking a little as she set the dishes back on the table. The quiet house felt too large, too empty, as she moved through it.

The front door opened, and Alexander stepped inside. Emma's breath caught as her gaze rose, her eyes meeting his. All these years, and the effect of his sight on her hadn't changed a bit: it still made her heart miss beats. He was an angel who took the form of man—a riddle she could never quite fathom. His presence was commanding and effortless, filling the room, and she couldn't help but smile with her heart pouring into that simple gesture.

"Welcome," she said softly, taking her seat with a grace that belied her nervousness.

But Alexander barely acknowledged her greeting. He just passed by her and then took his seat with a worn-out expression on his face. His hair was ruffled, his shirt a bit untucked, but he still looked like a god—untouchable, far away.

She wasn't surprised by the coldness in his tone anymore; she should be used to it by now. It was the silence between them that stung—the heavy, unspoken words in the air. At the same time, she wasn't mad at him.

Without another word, as they so often did, they began eating. The only sound was that made by the spoons, clinking against plates, something that had become rhythmic a long time ago. Emma's heart ached at how far away they still were from each other, even when seated across the table. She knew all the same that it wasn't going to change in one day. They had been so distant from one another for such a long time; rebuilding something that never truly was would take time.

Her gaze darted up to his after every bite, wondering what thoughts had been masked behind those very tired eyes all along. More than anything, she wanted to reach out and close this broadening chasm between them, but he instilled fear in her. All she did was wait—like she did tonight—and hope that someday he might see her, really see her, and they could finally begin again.

He jerked his head up, and his cold blue eyes locked onto hers, his glare raking down her spine and giving her goosebumps. The thick atmosphere was so heavy it did not permit any air to be exchanged between them. Her heart pounded inside her chest, and the beats echoed in her ears.

"I have something to tell you," Alexander said, his voice flat and emotionless.

Emma straightened up instantly; her heart raced with excitement and nerves. She laid down her cutlery, her eyes wide with curiosity. Alexander had never initiated a conversation of this nature before, not in all the years they were married. She hardly dared to believe it—perhaps this was that moment she had been waiting for, the breakthrough she had been praying for.

A smile tugged at her lips, and a slight blush crept onto her cheeks. She held her breath, waiting, hoping this to be the start of new things, better things.

Then his lips parted, and the words that fell from them shattered her world.

"Annie is back. I want a divorce."

2

The smile froze on Emma's face as the breath caught in her throat. The room seemed to tilt, her mind struggling to process the words. Divorce? The word rang in her head like the peal of a cracked bell, cruel and sharp. All these years, she had braced herself for many things—his distance, his coldness, his silence—but not this.

Her hands were shaking, and she quickly clasped them together in her lap to hide the shaking. A wave of nausea washed over her, and her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes. She had fought so hard and waited so long for even a glimmer of hope in their marriage, only to have everything taken away in one single, devastating moment.

Annie. The name was like a dagger thrust into her heart. The woman who had always been a shadow between them, a ghost from the past whom Emma just couldn't compete with. Now she was back, and with her, she had taken whatever small hope Emma had clung to.

Emma felt a tightening in her throat, her speaking suddenly very hard to do, but she willed herself to swallow the growing lump down her throat. "A-Are you serious?" she managed to whisper, her voice barely audible, as if speaking louder would make a nightmare more real.

The look in Alexander's eyes, though, told her all she needed to know. He was serious. And in that moment, Emma felt her heart shatter into a million pieces, the weight of his words crushing her beneath their finality.

"Kevin is preparing the divorce papers. I will send you a copy tomorrow," Alexander added, as his voice was cutting through the thick silence strumming in the room.

Emma turned her eyes at him, brimming her eyes with full containers of unshed tears. But she quickly blinked them away, refusing for them to fall. Her body was so weary, her heart in pain, but she willed herself still to speak, when everything in her never wanted to. She had spent years trembling at his words and his presence, always trying to be the perfect wife, all for him to never be satisfied. But now, after all she had given, all she had endured, this was how it ended—a divorce paper as his final act.

"Okay," she said, a little steadier this time, but hollow, her fists clenched hard at her sides, under the table, where he couldn't see.

The silence returned, more weighted than before. Alexander watched her face with his eyes, trying to find something more, possibly. But Emma had nothing more to give. More than a moment passed before he finally broke the awkward silence again.

"I think you should be the one to break the news to my mother. She'll take it better if it comes from you."

"Okay," Emma agreed, her tone flat, void of warmth that she once tried so hard to give him.

Alexander's gaze lingered on her, piercing and intense, before he continued, "Regarding alimony, I'm ready to pay you 20 million dollars."

He rose to his feet, his decision made, and began to walk away, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room.

Emma sat a little longer, her mind was in a whirl at all that was happening. Then she pushed her chair back and stood up, her voice cold as she spoke, "All I need is a week to find a new apartment. Bring the papers as soon as possible."

Alexander stopped and turned towards her, his face unreadable as if he wanted to say something more. Something flickered in his eyes—something she hadn't seen in them before, but she was too drained to really think about that. It didn't matter anymore. It was over between them and she was done being the girl he had been forced to marry by their parents.

Emma didn't say anything; she turned around and walked away. There was a firm heaviness in her steps. She was walking towards her room—a haven where, at last, she could let go of the pretence. Upon the door closing behind her, the tears that she had held back all night began to spew forth; they were silent but relentless. Her shoulder shook with soundless sobs as she fell onto the bed, burying her face in her hands.

In that room, alone with her grief, Emma mourned not just the end of her marriage, but the end of the dreams she had once dared to believe in. The woman who had fought so hard to be loved by a man who had never truly seen her now realized that it was time to let go, not just of him, but of the life she had tried so desperately to build.

The night was a torture from which there was no refuge for Emma. The words of Alexander—that Annie was back—echoed in her mind like a cruel refrain that just would not let her rest. Every time she closed her eyes, the reality of all that crashed over her like some relentless wave, threatening to drown in despair. Annie. Here was the name that haunted her marriage, the woman who had always been at the center of Alexander's heart. If only she could go back, change the past. Perhaps things might have turned out differently. But now it was too late.

Morning had finally come around, dragging her into a whole new day she now had to face. She had not slept at all; the dark circles under her eyes testified to a personal battle that had raged all night long. There was so much she had to do, people she needed to see one last time before bidding this life goodbye once and for all.

Taking a deep breath, she then wiped her face of residual tears and stepped into the shower, hoping the hot water might help wash away some of that pain. But it didn't. That ache in her chest remained as fierce as ever—a reminder of everything lost.

She dressed with some care in her elegant outfit, which spoke of dignity, which she refused to lose—whatever the shreds it was in, inside. As she came out of the house, she met Alexander in the dining room, having his breakfast. She didn't spare him a glance. There was nothing left to say, nothing to mend that chasm yawning between them.

She stopped first at a flower shop and bought a bunch of white lilies, her father's favorite flowers. The thought of that was what brought her renewed tears, yet she was resolved to finish this.

When they finally reached the cemetery, Emma's heart contracted at the view of her dad's grave. The headstone had a simple design, but it bore the significance of a man who held everything for her. She kneeled down, placing the flowers gently on his grave, her fingers lingering on the cool stone.

"Dad," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I tried… I really did. I tried to make it work out with the man you married me to. I wanted to please you, to make you proud. But…"

Her voice broke, and she swallowed again, using her will to keep herself going. "But I failed. I couldn't make him love me, no matter how hard I tried. I couldn't save the company, and I couldn't keep the life you wanted for me. I'm so sorry."

She didn't bother wiping at the torrent of tears sliding down her face. This was her final good-bye—not only to her father but also to a life that had been hauling her down, weighing her down for so long. It was time to let go, to know when some things just weren't in her hands.

"I'm leaving, Dad," she said softly, though her voice was firm despite the tears. "But I shall never forget all that you have taught me. I shall carry your love wherever I go."

She took a final, trembling breath and stood up, brushing the dirt off her knees. With a heavy, heart-sinking sensation, she turned her back to the grave and firmed up her resolve. There were a few more things she needed to do, a few people to whom she needed to bid goodbyes before she finally backed out of this life once and for all.

3

The day had been a blur of goodbyes as Emma visited those few people who retained any value for her. By the time she got home, hours had slipped through her fingers like sand, and she felt drained but strangely numb. She hadn't eaten all day, and yet food or drink didn't cross her mind.

As she approached the house, Vivian's car sat out front, and she knew right then what she was walking into. Vivian, Alexander's little sister, had always shared her big brother's view of Emma—maybe even more so. And there she stood, waiting, as Emma entered the sitting room.

As soon as Emma walked in, Vivian's eyes brightened, full of evil satisfaction. "I guess the rumor is true, wife," she sneered, marking extra special emphasis on the word "wife", saying it like a dirty joke. The bitterness in her voice churned Emma's stomach, but she remained cool, refusing to take the bait.

She would have pacified Vivian in the past with the act of a perfect wife while insults were being hurled at her. Not today. Today, Emma was through playing games.

"Get out of my sight. I have nothing to say to you, and besides, I am as happy as your brother is concerning this arrangement," Emma shot back, her voice cold and unyielding.

Vivian's sly smile had faltered for just a moment before she regained composure. "Are you now?" she mocked, to which Emma responded with nothing, brushing past Vivian and proceeding straight to her room before slamming the door behind her.

She cried her eyes out, soaking in the scalding water inside her bathroom. The water had done little to soothe the pain and instead exaggerated the ache in her chest. Soon enough, she was engulfed by exhaustion and finally dozed off into a restless sleep. She was jolted awake by the sound of knocking on the door.

Thinking it could be Miranda, she hastily donned her bathrobe and opened the door to find Alexander. The sight of him hit her hard in the chest, enough so that she had to bite into her lip to prevent tears from falling. It was only four weeks ago that, in this same room, he had made love to her for the first time since their marriage, giving her hope that maybe, just maybe, things between them could turn around for the better. Now, he was here handing her divorce papers, ready to leave her for a woman whom he hadn't seen in five years.

His gaze dropped to her cleavage, and she instinctively wrapped her bathrobe tighter about her as a wave of humiliation flushed over her. "I have brought the papers," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion as he extended the file toward her.

"You could have sent Kevin," she replied, trying to sound firm, though she was anything but steady inside. She took a deep breath, willing herself to keep her cool. "Give me a minute," she said then, closing the door.

She changed into comfortable clothes and grabbed a pen before proceeding to the sitting room, where Alexander waited. The tension was palpable as she went through the divorce papers. Her heart broke at every word. She did not say anything at all but scribbled her signature on the dotted line, sealing the end of their marriage.

She had turned to leave when Alexander's voice halted her. "Where will you be going?" he asked, his voice cold but tinged with something else she could not exactly identify.

She turned around then, her eyes as icy as his. "That's rather a personal question, don't you think, Mr. Black?

His eyes widened slightly at the formality of her response, clearly taken aback. "I will drop by your mother's tomorrow and let her know," she added, her voice softening a little.

Though her relationship with Alexander and Vivian had been stormy, her relationship with his mother was different. The older woman had always treated Emma with kindness, loving her as her other daughter. Now, the thought of saying goodbye to Alexander's mother, the last semblance of family she had, was perhaps the most difficult part of all this.

"My words regarding the alimony still stand," Alexander said, his voice firm but tinged with regret.

Emma paused, her heart aching as she looked at him one last time. "Then consider it my gift to your new life with your lover, Mr. Black," she replied, her voice breaking slightly as she forced herself to smile.

With that, she turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last, leaving behind the man she once loved and the life they could have had.

The next morning, Emma woke up earlier than usual, ready to face the new day with clarity. She hadn't actually taken anything since the previous night, when Alexander had broken the news, and she was physically weakened by this lack of nourishment. Forcing herself to prepare a very light breakfast, she took it alone in the quiet of her room. The food tasted like soot in her mouth, but she forced herself to eat the rest, knowing that she needed the strength for what lay ahead.

After arranging her nerves, she went off to the Brianna estate. Brianna, Alexander's mother, had been one of the most gentle souls in Emma's life, and by far, saying goodbye to her was going to be really hard. Brianna's face beamed with a warm smile and her eyes brightened as soon as Emma had entered the room; but she was so fragile. She was in her sixties but had aged rapidly in the last two years since her husband’s death, her health deteriorating so much that she seemed far older than she was.

"Emma," she laughed, and she patted the space beside her on the couch. Sorrow stung in Emma's chest as she settled down beside her. Sweet-natured Brianna had been a crutch for her during those years of marriage, and now Emma would miss her dearly.

After helping Brianna put ointment on her sore back, they sat down to a pot of tea. Brianna’s gaze drifted to Emma’s stomach, her expression tinged with sadness. Lately, she'd been prattling on more and more about grandbabies, and Emma could read it coming a mile away.

"So when are you and Alexander going to have babies?" Brianna inquired softly. "I just recently talked to Alex about that. I know of someone who can help both of you with that.".

Emma moved uncomfortably from her seat, for her heart was loaded with the weight of a secret. "Mother…" she began, but Brianna interrupted her, her face falling into a saddened expression.

"My days on earth are numbered, Emma. I need to see Alex's kids before I leave."

 Brianna's words cut like a knife, willing it to hurt that little bit more on Emma. She had felt this moment dreadfully coming; she knew how Brianna had longed for those grandchildren. But there was no going around it now. She took a deep breath as her voice quivered.

"Mother, I have something to tell you," she said, her hands unconsciously creating fists in her lap.

Brianna turned to her, completely attentive, her face full of concern. Emma sighed, feeling the weight of the words she was about to say. "Alex and I are divorced."

It was instant. Her face contorted in disbelief and rage, rising to a shout. "No way! No way will I allow that to happen!" She then turned to one of the maids. "Bring me my phone. I've got to reach Alex this instant."

As Emma had feared, the news did not go down well. Brianna's ferocious reaction had only added to the guilt and the distress that weighed her heart down. But, what was done, was done. Even if Brianna managed to get through to Alexander by some miracle, Emma’s mind was made up. She wasn’t going back to him. The life she had endured was over, and now, she needed to find a new path forward, even if it meant leaving behind the only family she have left.

4

The next morning, Emma's buzzing phone woke her up. With blurry eyes, she reached for it, getting rid of the last bits of sleep. She clicked on the message; it was from the company she had contacted two days ago.

"It's ready."

Emma took a deep breath as elation and sorrow mixed within her chest. It surprised her just how fast this whole process had gone, but she was so grateful for precisely that. The fake ID she had ordered was a crucial step in her plan to leave her old life behind. She had thoroughly researched the company, reading countless reviews to ensure their work was top-notch, and now, the final piece of her escape plan was ready.

"Alright, I will pick it up this afternoon," she replied, setting the phone down.

A single person more to bid farewell before abandoning all. She wore a modest black dress then left the house, briefly informing Carl, her personal driver that she would not need his service that morning. The last place she intended to visit before disappearing wasn’t one she would be welcomed at, but it felt necessary. He deserved that last respect, at least.

Annie's father had passed away two months before and today was his funeral. That was the real reason Annie had come home – the catalyst that brought about the destruction of Emma's marriage. The relationship between Emma, Annie, and Annie's father has turned sour six years ago, and all because of Alexander. But no matter how salty things had become among them, Emma had always respected Annie's father a lot. Eight years ago he had saved her life, pulling her out of the path of an oncoming car and putting his own life at risk in the process. That act of selflessness had stayed with her and, today, she would pay her final respects to the man who once was her saviour.

As the cemetery appeared around the bend of the street, memories assaulted her mind. She had been so young, so naïve, and he had stepped in without hesitation, asking nothing in return. That kind of kindness was rare, and it was why she felt compelled to attend his funeral despite everything that had happened since. It was the least she could do before she vanished from the world she had known for so long.

Using a scarf to conceal her identity, Emma kept her distance from the rest of the mourners, staying far from the crowd.. Standing in her self-imposed exile, she could clearly see Alexander, and her heart plummeted as she saw Annie throw herself at him, tears drenching her face. It was almost more than she could take. And even with the finality of their divorce, it was hard to see the man she had once loved so much now holding another woman so tenderly, whispering words of comfort.

Emma took a deep breath, trying to tell herself to stay calm. She didn't belong in their life anymore, and the view of them together only affirmed that it was time to leave. She probably never would fall in love again, not after this, but better to disappear rather than stay able to watch them rebuild what she never had.

Deciding to leave the cemetery before it became too overwhelming, Emma turned to go, but a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

"It's so nice to see you again," Annie sneered.

Emma turned slowly to face her. "And you."

It was almost surreal to think they had once been best friends. Now they were sworn enemies, all because Emma had discovered Annie's secret relationship with Alexander.

"You shouldn't have come," Annie sneered. "Your condolences weren't needed."

"I'm here because of your father, not you," Emma said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Annie laughed and her eyes turned cold with disdain. "And you expect me to believe that? I know why you're really here." She glanced over at Alexander, still some ways away. "He will never be yours again."

"You are free to have him." Emma replied nonchalantly.

Annie’s expression darkened, her voice dripping with venom. "He was mine to start with. He never loved you, Emma. The only reason he married you was to protect his inheritance, but now he's back where he belongs, with nothing standing in our way—not even my father. I didn't come back because he died; I came back because of what he said when he was still alive. He told me I could only marry Alex over his dead body, and I'll do just that. I'll give Alexander what you failed to give him."

She giggled and rubbed her tummy.

Emma followed her gaze, and realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Annie was pregnant. Of course, that was the reason Alexander had come home so late that night, rumpled and distracted. He had cheated on her, betrayed her in the worst possible way. The bile rose up in her throat, and with it, the tears threatened, but she swallowed them back down, refusing to break down in front of Annie.

Without another word, Emma turned and walked away, her steps quickening as she saw Alexander approaching. She couldn’t face him now, not after what she had just learned. All she wanted to do was escape, just to turn her back and disappear forever from their lives.

Emma drove straight to the address sent to her that morning. Her heart was racing as she picked up her new ID with the name "Veronica Moore." It was almost surreal to hold the card in her hand; it brought a strange sense of liberation. Veronica Moore was a fresh start, a new identity clear of the pain and betrayal that had marked Emma's life.

With the money wired to her new account under her new name, she made the decision to leave immediately. That very night, under darkness, she boarded a ship, leaving behind the city of her childhood, the life she knew, and everything that reminded her of Alexander. She took nothing from his house with her; all she had to carry into this new life was her new identity and its promise.

As the ship drifted away from the familiar shores, Emma watched the city fade into the distance, taking with it the remnants of her old life. It is in that night Veronica Moore was born, and with her, the hope of a new beginning.

Days later, while wandering in the streets of her new city, a sudden dizziness got the better of Emma. Before she could steady herself, she fainted and was rushed to the hospital. She opened her eyes to find the doctor standing beside her bed with a kind smile.

"Miss Veronica Moore, you are four weeks pregnant," he said gently. "Congratulations."

5

Back in the city, days had passed with no sign of Emma. Alexander was physically present in his meetings, but his mind was elsewhere, consumed by the mystery of her sudden disappearance. She had asked for a week to sort things out, yet in two days, she had vanished as if she expected such a move from him to divorce her. Matters had just gotten even more complicated when her car was found abandoned in the middle of nowhere, and his mother, Brianna, was relentless in her demands for answers.

Coming out of the meeting hall, Alexander was met by Kevin, his right-hand man, who wore a sorrowful look. "Sir, there's no trace of Miss Emma," Kevin reported. "No records of her leaving the country, and none of her friends have seen her. It's like she vanished into thin air."

Alexander's patience snapped. "She's not a needle! She can't just have disappeared! Find her, Kevin! If you want to keep your job, you'd better find her!" His voice was laced with an underlying threat, and Kevin visibly flinched at it.

"Yes, sir. I'll keep searching," Kevin quickly reassured him, his voice urgent. "Also, Miss Annie is waiting for you in your office."

News that would have ordinarily generated some semblance of satisfaction in Alexander merely contributed to his irritation on this particular day. His mind simply would not quiet from the thoughts of Emma even though Annie, the woman he had always purportedly wanted, awaited him. Now that Emma was gone, there was a strange emptiness at the bottom of his stomach. He wore a mask of contentment for his office as he made his way towards it, keeping in his mind that he had Annie, all he had ever needed.

He stepped into his office. Annie rose from the chair, her face lighting up as she looked at him. "Alexander," she said warmly as she walked towards him with a soft smile on her face.

He smiled, small and tight-lipped, fighting the growing turmoil inside him. "Annie," he said, his tone flat.

Annie noticed his her lack of enthusiasm but pushed the feeling aside and reached up, circling her arms around him in a light embrace. "I missed you," she said softly, laying her head against his chest.

Alexander stood rigidly for a moment before he reluctantly wrapped his arms around her. He longed for the warmth that he used to feel whenever she was close to him, but his mind was filled with Emma and where she might be. Was she safe? Was she hiding from him? The questions chewed at him, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

"Is everything okay?" Annie asked, pulling partially back to look up at him; concern etched onto her face.

He forced a smile and nodded. "Just a lot on my mind lately," he lied effortlessly.

Annie watched him for a moment, knowing instinctively that something wasn't quite right, before she let it be. She leaned into him instead and pressed a soft kiss against his lips as if trying to steer his mind away from whatever was bothering him.

But even as her lips met his, Alexander's mind was miles away, chasing the ghost of the woman who had vanished so suddenly from his life.

∆∆∆∆

The words came like a bolt of lightning as they hit Emma. Pregnant? How could she be pregnant? She had just gotten out of her old life, started fresh, and now this. As the reality of the situation set in, she realized that the last connection to Alexander was still with her, inside her. She was speechless with shock as her mind began racing, trying to work out what this meant for her future.

Emma did not sleep for days, knowing she was pregnant. The life inside her overwhelmed her, bringing mixed feelings-glad to be a mother, yet with deep sadness, knowing her child would grow up not feeling the love of a father. Yet, she kept telling herself that it was all for the best. She felt the pain Alexander had caused her was too great, and she swore to keep the fact that she had his child from him, believing he would make attempts to take the child from her if he ever found out.

Determined to give her child the best life possible, Emma, now fully embracing her new identity as Veronica Moore, decided it was time to take matters into her own hands and dictate the course of her life. She had always loved flowers for their beauty and the joy they brought; thus, she sought work from a local flower shop. The work was honest and simple, a stark contrast to the turmoil she had recently endured, and it felt like the perfect way to start over.

As she filled out the application, her mind firmed up. She would start anew, and she and her child would leave behind all sorts of shadows of her past life.This job was just the first step in building that future, one where she could finally find peace and happiness, even if it meant doing it all on her own.

The news about the acceptance of her application gladdened Emma's heart. This was finally a place where she would attempt to start anew after everything that had happened in her life. A small triumph in the sea of her calamities. Soon enough, she started to become one of the best workers in the flower shop: her attention to detail, her care for plants, her silent dedication did not go unseen by the manager, Mrs. Sarah Hayes. Soon, Emma was chosen as the "Best Worker of the Month," which was even more surprising to her than to anyone else.

Months slipped away, and she became an accepted member of the shop. The labor brought her solace, a quiet cadence to the turbulent rhythms of her life. As she arranged roses or watered orchids, the troubles of her past marriage and the heartache somehow dissipated, at least for a while. But while her heart had been bruised by Alexander Black. The man who once called himself her husband-something new had been in bloom on the inside of her. Her stomach began to swell-a real reminder of the life that was growing inside.

Every time she looked at her tummy, she smiled. The child in her womb just seemed to be a blessing, the one guiltless and bright thing to come from the ruins of her marriage. Whatever hurt Alexander had caused, their child was a treasure that would always be close to her heart. Lying in bed every night, she promised the baby inside how she would be the best mom to him. "You're the best thing he ever gave me," she told him softly, rubbing her belly. In her heart, she felt this child was Alexander's final farewell gift, a bittersweet memento of what they had and what they lost.

It was a hot afternoon, and Emma was watering flowers along with some of her colleagues when the little bell above the door of the shop gave its tinkle.

An older, frail woman, wearing an expensive sleek suit, walked in. Gray hair drawn back into an elegant bun, perfectly classy, as if she was used to commanding attention in every room. In a soft voice yet firm, she ordered white lilies. Finally, one of the workers had just begun to serve her when something suddenly went wrong. The old woman gasped in shock, clutching at her chest as her face twisted in pain. Suddenly, she began to collapse. The worker who was attending her screamed for help, and the entire shop was thrown into chaos. People crowded over, but no one knew what to do. Panic spread in a jiffy till complete chaos took over.

But Emma remembered those aching days when her father, who had died of a heart attack, would come home; the signs were so unmistakable. She knew what she had to do.

"Move!" she commanded, louder than she'd intended. She scrambled forwards without any further urging and knelt beside the old woman, commencing CPR, her hands flew as she counted out loud. Thirty chest compressions, two rescue breaths-over and over and over again. The shop had fallen silent; her coworkers stared in some sort of half-terrified, half-admiring awe.

Emma was breathing hard, her heart racing in anticipation, yet she maintained her cool. "Please, please," she muttered under her breath, sending silent prayers for the woman to react. It had felt like an eternity before the old woman stirred. Briefly, her eyelids flickered open, though weak.

Mrs. Sarah Hayes, the one who had called 911, quickly came running toward Emma. "The paramedics are on their way," she added with a still-shaking tone but relieved. "Emma you gotta go along with her to the hospital. She is all alone."

Emma nodded, breathless and undeterred. The next second she jumped into the already broken-down ambulance with the paramedics, off at full speed with them to deliver the woman to the nearest hospital. She kept holding the old woman's hand all the way, comforting her as best as she could. 

Hours crawled by as she sat beside the hospital bed, observing the regular rise and fall of the old woman's chest.

When the woman finally opened her eyes, there was a soft, almost motherly expression in them. She blinked a time or two, staring into Emma's face as if it were some sort of apparition from another time and place altogether. Then she slowly leaned forward, touching trembling, frail fingers against Emma's cheek.

"Diana?" she whispered, her voice hoarse but deep with emotion. "My dear daughter, are you really here with me?"

With those words, Emma's heart clutched in her chest. She wasn't Diana, but in this moment, she could feel the burden of this woman's love and longing. Tears sprang into Emma's eyes as she reached forward, laying a gentle hand over the woman's.

Before Emma could utter a word, the door opened, and a lady entered; her eyes were full of concerns. "Mrs. Walker."

She rushed to the bed and took the old woman's hand, wholly unnoticing of Emma. "How are you? I came the instant that I was summoned."