Holden was neglecting his work. Henry was
constantly missing school. Holden’s mother
finally intervened. I looked at the woman who’d chosen me, who’d kept me at arm’s length, and
felt a strange sadness. Perhaps it was a
mother–to–mother thing, a woman–to–woman thing. “Amelia,” she said, her voice gentle, “I
chose you because you were quiet, reserved. A
suitable Hudson wife. But now, Holden and
Henry are both distraught because you’re not home. What’s the difference between you and Vivian?” “Come back, Amelia. Do it for me. Give
Holden another chance.” She wasn’t the
stereotypical overbearing mother–in–law. She
was always polite, always proper. Just like…just like Holden and Henry. I knew she wouldn’t be here, in my small apartment, begging me to give Holden another chance, if it wasn’t for her son
<
and grandson. “But Mrs. Hudson, Holden
doesn’t love me. I wasted nine years of my life
in that marriage. You chose me for my family,
not for me. You have what you wanted. Our
families are intertwined. I gave you a grandson.
Henry’s growing up. He’ll be fine without me. Can you…can you finally give me my freedom?” My father had broken my leg, killed my dog. I’d
been too scared to fight back. Now, their goal
was achieved. They had Henry. I was no longer
necessary. And most importantly… “Mrs.
Hudson, I don’t love Holden anymore.” My
youthful infatuation had begun with those
words in the crushed car: “If you sleep now,
you’ll lose your freedom.” “Will you marry me? Maybe I can give you your freedom.” But the dragon–slaying knight had become the dragon, forgetting his promise. Mrs. Hudson sighed deeply. “Did you hear that, Holden? I tried.”
Beside her purse, her phone screen glowed,
showing Holden’s name. The call was still
connected.
<
That night, Holden showed up at my door.
“Amelia, I want to try again. I know I messed up.
I neglected you. Give me a chance to make it
up to you. A chance to start over.” I looked at
him. “I thought I’d made myself clear.” He ran a
hand through his hair, disheveled. He was
always meticulous about his appearance. He
wore a charcoal suit with…blue cufflinks. A
jarring clash of colors. A mistake. I used to
choose his outfits. Now, I just wanted him to
leave. He looked at me desperately. “I…I love
you, Amelia! I didn’t appreciate you. I didn’t
know how to love. I hurt you. I didn’t realize
how much I needed you until you were gone.
It’s all my fault. Please, give me another
chance. Henry needs you too. He cries for you
every day. No one can comfort him but you.
Please, for Henry…” He loved me. He didn’t
know how to love. When we first met, he’d said,
“Amelia, I’m in love with someone else. You
know that, right?” He’d been fighting with his
family over Vivian. After we were married, when
Vivian started seeing someone new, Holden
く
came home drunk for the first time. The next
day, when his mother pressed us about having
children, he’d sneered, told her to make me
wear gardenia perfume and he’d consider it.
Every word, every action, a reminder of Vivian.
And he claimed he didn’t know how to love? I
looked at him, my voice laced with sarcasm.
“What about Vivian?” He froze, like I’d caught
him in a lie. “There is no Vivian, Amelia. There
never was. I said that to defy my family. I’ve
only ever loved you. Always.” How ridiculous.
I’d wondered if his coldness, his emotional
distance, stemmed from resentment over
Vivian. I understood feeling trapped. But I didn’t
pity him. After Henry was born, my feelings for
Holden faded. I went through the motions,
playing the role of the perfect Hudson wife. I’d
poured my hopes into Henry, longing for a
connection, someone who belonged to me. He’d
been my solace. For two years. Then, he
became another source of pain. Maybe Holden
loved me in his own way. But his pride, his ego,
<
his…everything else…came first. He was used
to me, used to being taken care of. He’d taken me for granted, assumed it was a woman’s duty to cater to him. No one is incapable of love. Regret after loss is just bruised ego and the fear of not finding something better. It’s okay to love foolishly when you’re young. It’s okay to walk away when you’re older. “Holden,” I said, “have some self–respect.”
Holden was a proud man. He understood. The last time I saw him was at my apartment. I’d been on another trip, this time to the rainforest. The rainy season. I came home sick. I woke up in a fever, Holden helping me sit up. Henry was by the bed, his eyes filled with worry. “Mom, are you okay? Are you feeling sick? Should we go to the hospital?” Holden put a pillow behind me. “You were stumbling when you came home. I knew something was wrong. I followed you upstairs and found you passed out in front of your door. I had someone give you a shot. How are you feeling now?” He handed me
<
something. A glass. Milky white liquid. Warm
milk. “You didn’t eat anything tonight. This will
settle your stomach.” “Amelia,” he said softly,
his voice laced with a familiar, almost scolding
tone, “You can’t take care of yourself. If Henry
and I hadn’t been there…you would have been
sick and alone. Come home, Amelia. Please. Let
us take care of you.” I looked at him, at Henry
nodding eagerly beside him, and I smiled. I
reached for the glass. Then, I let go. It
shattered on the floor, milk splashing
everywhere. I pointed at the mess. “Holden,
look. Broken glass can’t be fixed. Spilled milk
can’t be…unspilled.” And then…a knock on the
door. Voices. Henry opened it. A crowd of
people poured in, carrying bags, filling my tiny
apartment. “Girl, what happened? I told you not
to go into that rainforest!” “Honey, you feeling
okay? I brought you those gummy bears you
like. Take one after your medicine, it’ll help!”
They noticed Holden and Henry, hesitated.
“Who are these…?” I saw Holden and Henry
tense up. Surrounded by my friends, I smiled
<
and said, “No one important. A friend and his
son. I won’t be seeing them again. They were just leaving.” Henry, being a child, broke down,
sobbing. “I don’t want to go! I want my
mommy!” Annie barked at him. The Hudsons‘
security detail appeared, whisking Henry away,
helping a stunned Holden out the door. I had
once shared my life with them. But spilled milk
can’t be gathered. The river flows on.
Bonus: Henry
When Henry was twelve, he finally confronted
Holden. He wanted to see Amelia. He didn’t
understand why Holden kept him away. He
didn’t know that Holden had been checking on
Amelia, that the reason he kept Henry away was
because Amelia had remarried, had a daughter.
Holden had assumed that their marriage had
been a failure, that Amelia, with her sensitive
nature, would need time to heal. He hadn’t
realized how…free Amelia would become. She
laughed easily, lived boldly. Like she’d finally
found herself Holden remembered their first
<
754
found herself. Holden remembered their first
meeting. A quiet girl, dragged by her mother to sit across from him. He’d been furious about
the arranged marriage, resentful of the shy, seemingly dull girl four years his junior. He’d fought his family for years. Even his grandfather had intervened. He’d reluctantly agreed to break up with “Vivian.” Vivian was a college
classmate, a good friend who’d agreed to help him maintain the facade. He hadn’t known she’d had feelings for him. He’d felt guilty afterward, had dinner with her a few times, discussed some business ventures. He’d thought, foolishly, that this would somehow redeem him in Amelia’s eyes, that it would
prove he hadn’t truly betrayed her. He’d blamed his coldness, his indifference, on his resentment towards his family’s control. He hadn’t
understood that he’d broken Amelia’s spirit.
Then he saw Amelia’s new life, and he
understood what he’d lost. She married a police
officer, someone she met during a roadside
emergency. He was busy, but he made time for
L
TL
Lil-
<
ner. They niked mountains, explored beaches,
chased waterfalls. He shared his work, his life,
with her. He bought her silly souvenirs, sent her pictures of funny things he saw on patrol. They
were partners. They were in love. Amelia had a daughter. A bright, energetic girl who loved
running around with Annie. At preschool, she boasted to her classmates, “My mommy is so cool! She makes robots! She races cars! Come
over to my house and meet her!” Holden
sometimes wanted to approach them, to ask Amelia how she was doing, but he always stopped himself. He stopped asking about her. One Christmas, Holden came home late from a work dinner, the house empty and silent. He loosened his tie and said, out of habit, “Amelia, I’m thirsty.” He’d expected a warm light, a
glass of milk. Instead, he was met with
darkness and silence. Regret washed over him,
suffocating him. He sank to the floor by the
door, a sob escaping his lips.
