Page 71 of All That She Needs

Sandy checked her watch. "About twenty minutes. Should be ready around 7:15."

Asha looked back at me. "You have twenty minutes."

"Can we talk in my office?" I asked, catching myself as I added, "Notmyoffice anymore. Just... the office."

She nodded. "Sure."

Asha turned and walked down the hall, and I felt a surge of longing as I watched her. There was something nostalgic about the way she moved—the way her shoulders squared, andher arms swayed. It hit me hard how much I had damaged between us and how many moments I had taken for granted. I followed her silently, unsure of how to begin—or even if I had the right to say anything at all.

We reached the office, and she stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter first. Her eyes barely met mine, distant and guarded. I hesitated before stepping in, searching for the right words, hoping I could somehow bridge the chasm I'd created. But the silence felt heavier than anything I could say. We both took a seat on the sofa by the wall, each settling at opposite ends. The distance between us felt final.

Finally, I cleared my throat. "I was told that I hurt your arms yesterday," I began, forcing myself to meet her gaze despite the guilt and shame twisting inside me. "I'm so sorry, Asha. I will not try to justify what I've done. I was drunk, out of control... and I'll live with the regret of that."

Asha gave me a slight nod, but she stayed silent, giving no indication if she accepted my apology or not.

I took a deep breath to steady myself. "I know I hurt you, Asha. I broke your heart. But yesterday, I finally understood the full extent of the damage I caused and how wrong I was. I was focused only on what I wanted and needed." I paused, feeling the weight of what I had to say next. "I kept convincing myself that I could make it right—that if I tried hard enough, you might forgive me. But I didn't realize that, in the process, I hurt you even more."

Her gaze hardened at my words, and I struggled to find the right way to continue. "You have every reason to hate me, Asha. My mistakes and wrongdoings are beyond redemption. I deserve whatever feelings you have toward me." The word comes out choked and filled with despair, a physical ache in my heart."I know I am a weak man, a selfish man. I've realized that too late, and it has cost me my family. It has cost me you."

The silence felt suffocating. Asha was seemingly unwilling to respond, content to absorb my words. I expected she would yell at me, angry at me, but what I saw was only hurt and tiredness. She was tired of being hurt by me. "I know it's probably hard for you to believe me, but I love you, Asha. I never stopped loving you. But I betrayed you, and I understand I can never reverse that. I can never regain your trust."

"Aiden," Asha finally spoke, shaking her head, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "Enough. I will not change my mind. I'm divorcing you."

"I know," I whispered, the bluntness of her words pressing down on me and making it hard to breathe. My eyes burned with unshed tears, and it took all my willpower to keep them from falling. "I understand that there's nothing I can do to change it now."

Asha's gaze locked onto mine, and in that moment, I saw the truth reflected in her eyes—she knew I had finally accepted my defeat. "The divorce papers arrived at my desk this morning." I continued. My voice shook as my emotions overwhelmed me. "I can't bear to hurt you any more than you already are, Asha, so I'm going to sign them. I made a few changes—nothing major, but I agreed to most of your requests."

It took everything in me to say the words, to admit that I was letting go of her, of the life we'd built together as the consequences of my actions.

She gave me only a nod, though her expression made it clear she was worried about the changes I'd made. I knew she'd call her lawyer first thing in the morning. But she'd find there was nothing to worry about. I'd arranged for all our assets andjoint savings to go to her, along with alimony that would secure her and our kids financially, so they'd never have to worry about a damn thing.

And even then, it wouldn't come close to making up for what I'd done. No amount of money could ever repay that.

"Find your happiness, Asha." I said, as I prayed silently for strength. The words felt like surrender, cementing the reality that this was truly the end. "I will not hold you back anymore."

Asha's gaze softened as she looked at me, a small, bittersweet smile forming. "I will," she said softly.

For a moment, we just looked at each other, and I was certain that memories of our life together flickered through both our minds—every beautiful moment we shared, every promise, and every mistake. This was it. This was goodbye.

"Can I get a hug?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," she replied, her eyes beginning to glisten with tears. We moved closer at the same time, reaching out until our arms wrapped around each other. For a moment, we held on tightly, the silence between us heavy with everything left unsaid. When she finally pulled away, her hand lingered on my arm just a second longer, as if trying to hold on to one last memory of me.

And then, with a deep breath, she moved back, and I knew it was time to let her go.

*** *** ***

I sat there, staring blankly at my screen, unable to absorb anything in front of me. I had probably been like this for hours, and I started contemplating the need to get away for a while to clear my head. It had been a week since my divorce was finalized, and I was still in the same hopeless state I had been in when I signed the papers.

"Aiden, someone is here to see you," Sean said cautiously, his tone careful, as if he were afraid of startling me. Given how I had been snapping at him lately, sometimes with no reason at all, his caution was understandable. "I just got a call from security in the lobby. He's on his way up."

I glanced at the clock on my desk. It was already 6 p.m. "Tell them to make an appointment during office hours," I grumbled.

"It's Mr. Blackthorne Senior, Aiden. Your father."

I sat up straight immediately, my heart racing. My relationship with my father had always been shaky, and the last time we spoke, which was over six months ago, it had ended poorly. I had no idea what he wanted now, but the anxiety twisting in my stomach suggested it wouldn't be good.

"Okay," I sighed. "Let him come in." As if anyone could stop my father from barging in. This was his company, and in his eyes, I was merely filling in—a generosity he bestowed upon me, but not because he couldn't manage it himself. That was the problem with family-owned businesses: no shareholders to keep him in check or board to challenge his authority. It was all too easy for him to take control whenever he wanted. But then, I held forty-nine percent of the share. I still had power over this company.

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