27
Kingsley stood in the corner of his bedroom, the lights dimmed down to a low, moody amber glow spilling from a single bedside lamp. It was well past midnight, and Beth had already retreated to the other side of the mansion. She said something earlier about a Zoom event and locked the door behind her. He didn’t ask. He didn’t care to. Not anymore.
He was tired. Not the kind of tired that sleep could fix, but the kind that settled deep in the bones, in the mind, in the spirit. The kind that made the whole world feel like it had lost its color.
He looked at his phone again. Her name was still there: Katherine. Her name, her picture, her contact info. Everything remained untouched, like he had preserved her in a glass box, too afraid to break it open but too unwilling to throw it away.
His thumb hovered over the green button. He hesitated.
Then he tapped it.
The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times.
His heart raced in a way it hadn’t in months. Not with Beth. Not with anyone.
Four times.
Then,
Voicemail.
“Hey, you’ve reached Katherine. I’m not available right now. Leave a message, or don’t. Your call.”
Kingsley ended the call before the beep. He sat back down slowly on the edge of the bed, staring down at the floor. It had been so long since he heard her voice, even a recorded one. Somehow, it still hit him.
He waited ten minutes.
He called again.
Rang twice. Then silence. Not even voicemail this time. Just nothing. Dead air.
The kind of nothing that said, She saw it. She saw your name. She silenced it.
He swallowed hard.
An hour later, after pacing the kitchen and drinking half a bottle of water he didn’t even taste, he tried one last time.
This time, the phone didn’t ring at all.
Just a cold message: “The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable.”
And that was it.
Blocked.
Kingsley sat in the study the next morning, the city skyline blinking through the wall-to-wall windows. He hadn’t slept. Not really. He’d just stared into the ceiling and tried to remember what peace used to feel like.
His desk was cluttered: files, financial reports, a half-written speech. But he pushed them all aside and pulled out his phone again.
He scrolled through until he found Nathan Caldwell.
He hit dial.
Nathan picked up after the first ring.
“Mr. Rowe,” Nathan’s voice came crisp and clear, professional as always. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” Kingsley said, voice a little rough. “I need you to find someone for me.”
There was a brief pause on the line. “Name?”
“Katherine. Katherine Rowe. My ex-wife.”
Nathan’s tone shifted subtly. “Understood. Full name, current or last known address?”
“I’ll send you everything I have.” Kingsley leaned back in his chair, staring out at the hazy horizon. “I need to know where she is, what she’s been up to. Everything. Since the divorce.”
“Any reason for concern?”
“I just need to know,” Kingsley said quietly. “I tried calling her. It didn’t go through. She blocked me, I think.”
Nathan didn’t ask more. “Alright. I’ll begin immediately. I will let you know when I find something.”
“Thanks, Nathan.”
Kingsley hung up and sat back in the silence. It wasn’t about finding her to confront her. It wasn’t about drama. It wasn’t even about Beth anymore.
He just missed her.
The way she made the house feel like home.
The way her laughter could break through even the darkest moods.
The way she never once made him feel like he had to perform to be loved.
He had taken all of it for granted.
And now he was sitting alone in a mansion that echoed with emptiness, chasing the ghost of a woman he should have fought harder for.
Days passed as Kingsley waited for the results of the investigation.
Each one felt longer than the last.
He kept to himself mostly: more silent than usual, more distracted in meetings, more prone to staring out windows like he was waiting for something to fall from the sky. The staff at the firm noticed it, though no one said anything. He wasn’t snapping or shouting, just… quiet. Disconnected. As if the shell of him had clocked in, but everything else—the heart, the mind, the man—was somewhere far, far away.
Beth noticed too, but she didn’t press. She was always busy these days: photoshoots, events, interviews, brunches, charity luncheons. She assumed he was stressed from work. Or maybe she didn’t care.
But Kingsley…
Kingsley knew exactly where his mind was.
Katherine.
He hadn’t spoken to her in years, but the sudden ache that came from merely saying her name—silently, in his mind—had surprised him. It felt alive. Still sharp. Like a scar that had never truly healed, just buried under the surface of everything he’d chosen instead.
The unanswered calls haunted him. The way the line went dead too quickly on that third try, how her number refused to ring again: he knew what it meant.
She’d blocked him.
And maybe she had every right to.
But he couldn’t sit with that.
Not anymore.
Not when the thought of her kept showing up uninvited, not when every smile Beth gave him felt staged, every touch choreographed. Not when he remembered what it was like to sit beside someone who actually saw him.
So he waited.
For Nathan.
For answers.
And then one day when he was in his office.
He sat behind his desk, elbow resting heavily on the arm of his chair, fingers pressing against his lips as if to hold the weight of his thoughts inside. The morning sun had long since risen, and by now, it had spilled into every corner of the room, bathing everything in a warm, golden light that only made the chill inside his chest feel more foreign—like he didn’t belong in this office anymore. Like he didn’t belong in this version of his life.
He hadn’t touched the coffee on his desk. Hadn’t opened a single email. He didn’t even bother looking at the documents that had been neatly stacked for him by his assistant earlier that morning. They sat untouched. Meaningless.
He was waiting on information he wasn’t even sure he deserved.
He let out a breath and ran a hand over his face, jaw tight. He didn’t even know what he was hoping Nathan would say. That she was doing well? That she was struggling? That she missed him too?
He wouldn’t admit it—not even to himself—but a part of him hoped she had waited. That she hadn’t moved on. That she was still… his, in some invisible, impossible way.
The knock came like a break in the dam.
Three taps: sharp, deliberate, familiar.
Kingsley straightened immediately. “Come in.”
The door creaked open and Nathan stepped in. Sharp suit. Unshaken posture. Calm as ever. But even he had a flicker of something behind his eyes—something unreadable.
Kingsley didn’t waste time. “You found her?”
Nathan nodded once. “Yes, sir. I did.”
Kingsley’s fingers curled over the edge of his desk. “And?”
“She relocated to Brooklyn. Spring Street. Quiet part of town. Started something new.”
“Spring Street?” Kingsley repeated, like the name itself carried weight.
Nathan nodded. “Yes. A quiet neighborhood. Clean, low traffic. She started over. Opened a small café. The Quiet Brew. It’s… doing well. A local favorite, actually. She runs it herself.”
“A café,” Kingsley murmured, almost to himself. “Katherine… runs a café.”
“Yes. And she’s good at it. Seems to have built a steady rhythm. There’s nothing flashy about it. No investors, no big campaigns. Just her, the space, the coffee, and one close friend: Caroline.”
“Caroline?”
“Her best friend. Lives nearby. They spend most evenings together after work. That’s really the only person she regularly interacts with outside the café. No men. No romantic relationships. No visitors. She’s single. She’s not seeing anyone.”
Kingsley’s breath caught in his throat.
“Not seeing anyone?”
Nathan shook his head. “No. Nothing recent. Nothing discreet, even. I looked deep.”
For a long time, Kingsley said nothing. He just sat there, staring past Nathan, into a memory he hadn’t let himself visit in years. Katherine’s laugh. Her quiet mornings. The way she used to run her fingers through his hair when he had long days. The way she just… knew him.
She hadn’t moved on.
She was still Katherine. Still out there. Still reachable—if only he could find a way back.
Nathan cleared his throat softly, respectful. “Would you like me to keep watching her? I can stay on it, if—”
“No,” Kingsley said quietly, cutting in. “No. That’s enough.”
Nathan nodded, already folding the folder back into his satchel.
Kingsley leaned back in his chair, exhaling like the weight of the last several years had landed fully on his chest. Then he looked up at Nathan.
“I want to go see her.”
Nathan’s brows lifted slightly. “Today?”
“No,” Kingsley murmured. “Not today. But soon. I need to… figure out what to say. It’s been too long. And too much has happened. But I need to see her.”
He paused.
“I need her to know that I regret everything. That I never should’ve let her go. I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve chosen her. Every time.”
Nathan said nothing. He just nodded again and stood. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
“I will.”
Kingsley remained in his chair long after Nathan had gone. He stared at the skyline like it could answer him. Brooklyn felt like a different world from where he sat, but not unreachable. Not anymore.
Katherine was still out there.
Still single.
Still herself.
And for the first time in years, Kingsley felt the faintest flicker of hope.
Not just for forgiveness.
But for something more.
A second chance.