It was strange–how quiet the house had become. Not just in sound, but in feeling. It was as if something had been drained from the very walls, like all the warmth had packed its bags and followed Joyce out the door the moment she left.
Bradley sat in his study, fingers trembling slightly around the glass of whiskey he hadn’t. touched. His eyes stared into nothing, the walls around him blurred, as his mind fell deep into the past–into memories that, until recently, he had buried beneath arrogance and
routine.
Twenty–five years.
A quarter of a century.
Joyce had been there every step of the way. And yet he had barely noticed her at all.
He remembered the first year of their marriage–how she had quietly placed his shoes by the door every morning, his favorite black coffee already steaming on the table before he even got up.
“Good morning, Brad,” she’d say with a soft smile, one hand still holding the wooden spoon stirring the pot.
“Morning,” he’d mutter, barely sparing her a glance. “Add sugar to the coffee?”
She’d smile anyway. “Already did.”
Everything had always been easy with Joyce. Predictable. Steady. And he mistook that stability for dullness.
But now he saw it for what it was–love.
There were memories. Small ones. Simple ones. Ones he never thought he’d care about
until now.
Joyce, brushing his coat and smoothing the collar before a big meeting.
“Make sure to take your vitamins. You skipped breakfast again,” she’d chide gently.
“Stop nagging,” he’d grumble, brushing her hand away.
Joyce, staying up late waiting for him to get home–bringing him tea even when he came home smelling like another woman’s perfume.
Joyce, nursing him through that terrible flu two winters ago, when even Maine didn’t visit
once.
Joyce, standing in the garden at dawn, fingers muddy with soil, planting the roses he liked but never admitted he cared about.
Joyce, quietly wiping her tears in the kitchen after he shouted at her for burning the rice- though he hadn’t said a word to Maine when she destroyed an entire dinner.
He leaned back into the chair, groaning into his palms.
God, how had he not seen it?
All she ever did was love him. Serve him. Choose him.
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Joyce, quietly wiping her tears in the kitchen after he shouted at her for burning the rice- though he hadn’t said a word to Maine when she destroyed an entire dinner.
He leaned back into the chair, groaning into his palms.
God, how had he not seen it?
All she ever did was love him. Serve him. Choose him.
And he had discarded her like an expired receipt.
For Maine.
For selfishness.
He used to think that Joyce was weak because she stayed. But now, he realized, she had been stronger than all of them. Because she gave everything–her dreams, her art, her youth–for a family that never once said thank you.
He hadn’t thanked her.
Not once.
Not for the meals. Not for the warmth. Not for being the anchor to his chaos.
He had never told her she was beautiful.
Never asked her if she was happy.
And the worst part?
He had never even noticed how sad she had become.
He gripped the armrest, fighting the lump rising in his throat.
And that night–he cried. Not quietly. Not the reserved kind of tears you wipe away before.
anyone sees.
No, he cried like a man who had just realized that everything he had ever needed had already been his–and he let it go.
He whispered her name over and over again in the dark.
“Joyce… Joyce… Joyce…”
And in the stillness of that night, something inside him shattered.
By morning, his eyes were swollen, his throat raw from pleading to a woman who wasn’t there. He stared at his phone, then did something he never thought he’d do.
He called Joseph.
Joyce’s father.
It rang for a long time before the gruff voice answered.
“Bradley,” Joseph said curtly. “What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you,” Bradley said. His voice cracked, and he didn’t bother hiding it. “Please. I need your help.”
Joseph was quiet..
“Jovce… she won’t talk to me. She won’t even look at me.”
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He called Joseph.
Joyce’s father.
It rang for a long time before the gruff voice answered.
“Bradley,” Joseph said curtly. “What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you,” Bradley said. His voice cracked, and he didn’t bother hiding it. “Please. I need your help.”
Joseph was quiet.
“Joyce… she won’t talk to me. She won’t even look at me.”
“And why should she?” Joseph snapped. “You threw her away for Maine. Now she’s with another man, and you’re crying because you lost.”
“No,” Bradley said desperately. “I didn’t lose her because of Lorenzo. I lost her because ! broke her. I know that now. And I want to fix it. I need to. But she won’t listen to me.”
Joseph scoffed. “Then maybe it’s already too late.”
Bradley’s jaw tightened. “Please. She’s your daughter. Talk to her. Help me fix this. I–I need her back.”
There was a long silence on the other end.
Then Joseph said something that hit Bradley like a slap.
“You think I care about her after what she did to this family?”
Bradley blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“She’s the reason my wife died.”
The words landed with the weight of a brick.
“What… what do you mean?” Bradley asked slowly.
“She never told you?” Joseph said, almost amused. “Of course she didn’t. My wife–Joyce’s mother–was a professor. Prestigious. Respected. And Joyce? She cheated her university.”
Bradley’s brows furrowed. “No… no, she didn’t-”
way into
“She did,” Joseph said bitterly. “She submitted a fake test. Got caught. And when the scandal hit, the university started whispering. Colleagues stopped talking to us. My wife’s reputation? Destroyed. She spiraled. Fell into depression. Locked herself in that room for days.”
Bradley didn’t speak.
“She died two years later,” Joseph said flatly. “I never forgave Joyce for that.”
“You blamed her? She was a kid.”
“She was old enough to know better. And she never apologized. Never said a word.”
Bradley’s stomach twisted. “You’ve been punishing her for something she was never allowed to explain?”
Chanter 19
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DD Sat, 24 May
“She never told you?” Joseph said, almost amused. “Of course she didn’t. My wife–Joyce’s mother–was a professor. Prestigious, Respected. And Joyce? She cheated her way into university.”
Bradley’s brows furrowed. “No… no, she didn’t-”
“She did,” Joseph said bitterly. “She submitted a fake test. Got caught. And when the scandal hit, the university started whispering. Colleagues stopped talking to us. My wife’s reputation? Destroyed. She spiraled. Fell into depression. Locked herself in that room for days.”
Bradley didn’t speak.
“She died two years later,” Joseph said flatly. “I never forgave Joyce for that.”
“You blamed her? She was a kid.”
“She was old enough to know better. And she never apologized. Never said a word.”
Bradley’s stomach twisted. “You’ve been punishing her for something she was never allowed to explain?”
“I did what I had to.”
Bradley slammed his fist on the desk. “You’re part of the reason she never felt loved. You.”
“She embarrassed this family,” Joseph said.
“No,” Bradley whispered. “We embarrassed her. All of us. You. Me. Mateo. We never saw her. We never listened. And now she’s gone.”
There was silence.
Then Joseph said, quieter, “What do you want me to do?”
Bradley closed his eyes.
“Tell her the truth,” he said. “Tell her what you never said. Apologize. Help me fix this. I’m begging you, Joseph.”
He sounded desperate. He was desperate.
Because for the first time in his life, Bradley knew what regret really felt like.
And it had Joyce’s name carved into every part of it.
24 MAY
Chapter 20