72
The final sunrise at the retreat spilled gold over the quiet grounds, touching the edges of cabins and curling into corners where memories lingered. It was the morning everyone had half-dreaded and half-anticipated—the return to the real world.
At breakfast, the facilitators returned everyone’s phones, carefully labeled and fully charged.
The moment Katherine held hers, it felt foreign in her hand—like holding a piece of her old life that no longer quite fit. Notifications flooded in: emails, texts, missed calls. But for now, she swiped them away and slid them into her bag.
Kingsley was already on a call. “Yeah, Elijah, it’s me. I’m heading back today. Can you book me a flight to Manhattan this afternoon? I’ll text you the retreat coordinates so you can send a driver. Thanks, man.”
He ended the call and looked over at Katherine. “My assistant’s sorting it out. I’ll be flying back this evening.”
Katherine nodded. “Carolina and I are taking the retreat shuttle to Brooklyn. It’s funny… I almost forgot what city noise feels like.”
Carolina joined them a minute later, phone in one hand, coffee in the other. “Brooklyn’s not ready for the new us.”
Devon showed up shortly after, a travel backpack slung over one shoulder. “My flight’s a bit later too. Heading back home to see my folks before diving into anything else.”
Everyone gathered by the gravel path once more, bags stacked and shuttle vans lining up like chariots to take them out of this suspended world of heart and healing.
The air was full of warm hugs, soft words, and promises. A few retreat friends cried openly. Others laughed as they traded contact info and inside jokes.
Carolina pulled Devon aside for a quiet moment. “Promise me this isn’t where it ends?”
Devon touched her cheek. “Not even close. You’re part of my real world now.”
They shared a soft, private kiss before Carolina turned to Katherine. “Ready, roomie?”
Katherine gave Kingsley one last lingering look. “I’ll see you soon?”
Kingsley stepped forward, brushing a kiss against her forehead. “You will. This isn’t a goodbye. Just an intermission.”
Devon hugged Katherine, then Carolina. “Don’t ghost me, alright? I’m terrible at texting but great at random voice notes.”
“We’ll keep you in line,” Carolina smirked.
Kingsley shook Devon’s hand—solid, real. “Take care of yourself, man.”
“You too. And fight for her, yeah?”
“Every day.”
They watched Devon walk off toward the private car waiting for him. Then Katherine and Carolina loaded into the shuttle together, the retreat slowly fading in the rearview mirror.
Kingsley stood there a while, watching until the shuttle disappeared behind the winding trees.
He didn’t move until his driver arrived.
But even as he stepped into his car, phone buzzing again with calls and business requests, one thing was clear:
The life he had walked into this retreat with wasn’t the one he was going back to.
And he was glad.
The black SUV rolled smoothly into the circular driveway, tires whispering across the stone-paved path. Before it even came to a full stop, the massive front doors of the mansion swung open. Two of the house staff—Sophie, the head maid, and Collins, his longtime butler—stood waiting at the entrance, perfectly composed, as if no time had passed.
“Welcome home, sir,” Collins said with a slight bow, stepping forward to take his duffel bag from the driver’s hand.
“Thank you, Collins,” Kingsley replied, adjusting the collar of his coat as he stepped out into the filtered sunlight of late morning Manhattan.
The air smelled faintly of pine polish and the subtle lavender scent the maids always used in the halls. The house was immaculately clean, as always. The floors gleamed, the staircase curved gracefully up into silence, and the crystal chandelier above cast fractured rainbows across the marbled entryway.
But as he stepped inside, Kingsley still felt… removed from it all.
Sophie was already heading toward the kitchen, murmuring something to the cook about preparing lunch. He could hear the low hum of the housekeepers in the other wing, vacuuming, folding, arranging.
He walked slowly into the living room and collapsed onto the velvet couch, rubbing his temples. The silence in the room was deafening. But it wasn’t peaceful. It was empty.
Even when Beth was here… it had still felt empty.
Sometimes, even when she was right next to him, he felt like he was dining alone.
And now?
She was in Paris—off on a three-month influencer contract. And if he was honest with himself… he was glad.
He stretched out on the couch, arm behind his head, and let his thoughts drift back to Katherine.
God, he missed her.
Being around her at the retreat had felt like home in a way this entire mansion never had. When he sat beside her on the cabin porch, laughing over tea… when they touched, and it meant something… when she looked at him like she still saw him—it was like something real had returned to him.
Safety.
Light.
Warmth.
And now, back in this palace of marble and velvet and space… he’d never felt more alone.
He stared at the ceiling for a long time, the glow from the chandelier flickering across the room like shadows of things he used to think were important.
By Monday, work hit like a tidal wave. A month’s worth of backlogged decisions, postponed meetings, and piled-up contracts awaited him. His calendar was packed from sunrise to dusk, and his office hummed with the quiet panic of people trying to catch up. Kingsley slipped effortlessly back into CEO mode—signing, negotiating, delegating. But underneath it all, something had shifted. The edge was gone. The fire that used to drive him to dominate the boardroom now flickered lower, steadier.
Every night, no matter how late, he found time to call Katherine.
She always picked up.
Sometimes she was already in bed, curled up in one of her oversized sweatshirts, the faint sounds of Brooklyn in the background. Other times she was still at the café, wiping down counters or laughing with customers who’d stayed past closing.
“I missed your coffee so much, Katherine,” one woman had told her on her first day back, nearly tearing up. “And your lemon muffins? I dreamt about them. Where did you go?”
“Just… away,” Katherine had said, smiling softly. “I needed to remember who I was.”
The café had welcomed her back with open arms. So did the customers. She re-hung the framed polaroids behind the counter, re-stocked her handwritten recipe cards, and smiled as she worked. But every time her phone lit up with Kingsley’s name at night, her heart skipped in a way she hadn’t expected.
She told him everything—how Carolina helped her prep scones that morning, how her espresso machine broke down midday, how a man accidentally tipped her with Canadian dollars. They laughed like they used to. They talked like they never stopped.
At the wellness center, Carolina walked through the softly lit halls, clipboard in hand. The receptionist waved. A yoga class was ending in the studio to her left. It felt good to be back—to work, to routine—but her heart was still tangled in retreat memories.
Devon called every day.
He’d returned to his sleek, corner office at the oil and gas conglomerate where he worked as the chief operating officer. A man of boardrooms and billion-dollar deals. But at night, his voice softened. He asked how her day went. He told her what he’d eaten. He sent pictures of sunsets from his office window and selfies of him trying (and failing) to meditate like she taught him.
They were still figuring it out, she and Devon. But they were trying.
And maybe that was the point.
The evening air outside was crisp but warm with the open windows swaying gently in the breeze
The phone rang twice before Katherine picked up. Her voice, warm and familiar, poured through the receiver like a balm to Kingsley’s nerves.
“Hey,” she said softly. “You’re calling early.”
“I know,” Kingsley murmured, shifting back on his bed, one arm behind his head. His room was dim, cast in the gentle glow of a reading lamp. “I couldn’t wait to talk to you. Been thinking about you.”
There was a pause on the other end, then a quiet chuckle. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.”
He let the silence hang for a moment, hoping she could feel the weight of his honesty through the line. Three weeks since the retreat, and every day had felt like a stretched-out ache. Being back in the city, in this cavernous mansion, only magnified what was missing.
“I miss being around you, Katherine,” he said at last, voice low and raw. “It’s been three weeks and I’m still crazy about you. Still hearing your laugh in the quiet parts of my day.”
Katherine let out a slow breath. “I miss you too.”
Kingsley sat up, heart kicking a little faster. “Then what do you think about that vacation? The one I mentioned at the retreat? Anywhere you want, just the two of us. Dubai. Italy. Maldives. I don’t care. I just… want time with you. Like before.”
A silence stretched long and uncertain between them.
“Kingsley,” Katherine said finally, her voice laced with warmth and restraint, “I can’t.”
His heart sank. “Why not?”
“First of all,” she said gently, “I’m running a business. It’s still growing. I just got back, and I can’t abandon it now. And second…” Her voice quieted even more. “You’re a married man.”
Kingsley closed his eyes, jaw tightening. “You know it’s not like that between Beth and me.”
“Maybe not emotionally,” Katherine said, “but legally? Publicly? It still is. You’re still married, Kingsley. And I can’t… I can’t go on vacation with someone else’s husband.”
“I don’t want to be her husband anymore.”
“I believe you,” she said, “but believing you don’t change what’s real. You have to do the needful. You have to end it—properly. Officially. Publicly. Before I can even think about going on a vacation with you.”
He rubbed his forehead, the words pressing hard against his pride and longing. “So, what—you’ll only travel with a single Kingsley?”
She smiled sadly. “Exactly. Do you want me on that plane? You know what to do.”
Before he could respond, there was a gentle knock at his bedroom door.
He frowned. “Hold on.” He sat up straighter. “Come in.”
One of the maids stepped in, looking a little breathless.
“Sir… your wife is back.”
Kingsley blinked. “What?”
“She just arrived. Said her flight was changed. She’s downstairs.”
The phone slipped slightly in his hand. He looked at the maid, then back toward the open hallway like something might come walking through it at any moment.
“She’s not supposed to be back for another month,” he whispered.
On the other end of the line, Katherine went still.
“Kingsley…?” she asked. “What’s going on?”
But he didn’t answer.
He just sat there, staring at the open door of his bedroom, the echo of Katherine’s voice caught in his ear—and the weight of his unfinished life crashing into the moment.