His First Love, My Final Goodbye

After years of a polite, harmonious marriage, my husband insisted on making a movie under his real name to apologize to his first love, an older woman he had once adored. When I liked and shared the promotional poster on my main account, he publicly praised my generosity. But when I handed him the divorce papers, he panicked. “Sweetheart, don’t do this. I’m just trying to make amends for a mistake I made when I was young.” I urged him to sign. “So am I.” When I heard that Adrian Hayes was making a grand production out of a movie about his first love, my assistant and I were frantic over the sudden, unexplained fever our son had developed. While we waited for the test results, my assistant, Lily, checked her phone. A notification made her freeze. “Claire… have you seen what’s trending?” She handed me her phone with trembling hands. I glanced down at the headline. “HAYES GROUP CHAIRMAN TO USE HIS REAL NAME IN FILM HONORING HIS FIRST LOVE.” One look was enough. I pushed the phone back toward her. She had only recently started working for me. This was her first time witnessing something so humiliating happen to her boss. She wanted to comfort me but had no idea what to say. Seeing her discomfort, I patted her shoulder and told her that publicity stunts were nothing unusual in business. It was all about profit. She visibly relaxed. I could say “publicity” and “profit” all I wanted, but I couldn’t stop the thoughts churning inside me. I gripped my phone. When our son’s fever had suddenly spiked, I’d called my husband dozens of times in a panic. The man I’d shared such a respectful marriage with hadn’t answered once. Finally, I’d sent a brief text: “Noah has a high fever. Come home now so we can take him to the hospital.” Adrian had replied almost immediately. “Busy. Something came up at work. I’ll get there later.” A moment later, a huge sum of money landed in my bank account. That was how things had always been between us. We treated each other with respect. Our marriage lacked a little passion, but I’d believed our love was steady. We were comrades who could trust each other to watch our backs. I’d helped him when he was at his lowest. We’d fought side by side and never argued. Among the wealthy families in our circle, our marriage was considered a success story. Once Noah was settled in his hospital room, I had our driver take Lily home. It was late. I didn’t want her traveling alone. I touched Noah’s forehead. He was sleeping soundly and had begun to sweat. My heart eased a little. With everything taken care of, I opened my phone and examined the trending story. The Adrian being interviewed in that video was nothing like the man I thought I knew. My husband could navigate a corporate battlefield without breaking a sweat. He had never been the sort to wear his emotions on his sleeve. Yet there he was in his tailored suit, looking devastated, his voice trembling. “The person I’ve wronged most in my life is Sophie Carter. Now I’m successful. I have everything, but I’ve lost her… The male lead will keep my name. I want to use my real name to apologize to the woman I loved in my youth.” “I hope men can learn from my mistake. If you’re lucky enough to find the love of your life, hold on to her and marry her, no matter what stands in your way. Be brave. Otherwise, you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to live with that regret.” So this was what he meant by busy. Too busy to help me take our son to the hospital.I stayed up all night watching every publicly available video. Little by little, I pieced together the love story he was telling. So Adrian had once loved someone with that much passion and sincerity. His beloved Sophie had actually been his tutor in high school. She had come from an extremely poor family. Adrian’s mother normally wouldn’t have hired an impoverished college student as a private tutor. But Sophie was exceptional. With near-perfect entrance scores, she’d gotten into one of Harvard’s most competitive programs. And students she tutored could improve their test scores by at least fifty points, sometimes after a single lesson. Her outstanding record had persuaded Adrian’s mother to make an exception and hire her. Adrian had fallen for Sophie almost at first sight. At first, Sophie had firmly rejected him. Adrian, however, pursued her relentlessly. After nearly a year of push and pull, Sophie’s defenses had finally crumbled. They’d fallen passionately in love. The ending was painfully cliché. Adrian’s mother had offered Sophie ten million dollars to leave him, and she’d taken the money. At that point in the interview, Adrian sighed with regret. “I was too helpless back then. I didn’t dare stand up to my family. “If I’d been stronger, maybe Sophie wouldn’t have left me…” The comments were unanimous. “He’s the ultimate hopeless romantic! Please, universe, let me meet a gorgeous, lovesick man like this before menopause!” “His first love was obviously a gold digger, but he’s still making excuses for her and blaming himself for being weak. I’m actually crying…” People were even posting song lyrics about being alone forever, hoping to attract a love like his. Using an alternate account, I replied to the comment calling him a gorgeous romantic. “Romantic? Sounds more like an idiot. He couldn’t deal with his own family, but he chased a girl anyway so he could feel good about himself. Only after they got together did he realize he couldn’t handle the consequences. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” A flood of replies attacked me. “Another troll hiding behind a fake account. Your real life must be miserable if you’re this bitter.” I fell silent and smiled bitterly. Looking at my son, still asleep in his hospital bed, I had to admit that life was miserable. When I’d rallied the Bennett family’s resources to help restore Hayes Group, I hadn’t heard this story. After Adrian and I had spent more than a decade supporting each other, surviving every open attack and hidden trap in business, Hayes Group had finally climbed to new heights. Now he wanted to reminisce about his first love. Miserable indeed.As far as I remembered, Adrian’s story hadn’t happened that way. More precisely, it hadn’t been some epic romance. It had started briefly and ended just as quickly. And in all our years of marriage, his first love had never been a forbidden subject. The Bennetts and the Hayeses were old family friends. Adrian and I had practically grown up together. I remembered him dating his tutor for a while, then breaking up amicably. His mother had come from humble beginnings herself. I didn’t remember her being some arrogant society woman obsessed with pedigree. Unfortunately, she had been dead for years. There was no asking her now. I’d grown up with Adrian. I’d thought I knew exactly who he was. When I returned from studying abroad, Hayes Group was facing an unprecedented crisis. Adrian had come to my family and declared his love for me. My father had watched him grow up and believed he was an honorable man. The Hayes family still had a solid foundation. Once they weathered the crisis, our businesses could form a powerful alliance. My father respected Adrian, and I’d secretly loved him for years. So we married. I still remembered what he’d said when he proposed. “There may be five thousand flowers in the world that look just like you, but you’re my one and only rose.” He’d proudly told everyone that in business, we were comrades fighting back to back. In life, I was his one and only red rose. Confident, gracious, passionate, and intelligent. I had always been the strongest pillar supporting his career. How could I have known that, alongside his red rose, he’d kept a pure white one in his heart? That night felt unbearably long and painful. Eventually, tangled in my thoughts, I fell asleep with my head resting on the edge of Noah’s bed. When I woke, Adrian was beside me, looking exhausted and disheveled. “Why are you still wearing the suit from your interview?” His face went pale, then flushed. “You saw it…?” “It’s the top trending story. Hard to miss.” He was about to explain when Noah woke up. We’d been married for twelve years. For the first six, we’d been too busy building our careers together to have a child. When Noah finally came along, we’d both poured all our love into him. The moment he saw Adrian, his eyes reddened. Tears streamed down his little face. “Daddy, don’t you want me anymore? The kids at kindergarten said you don’t want me.” Adrian shot me an angry look. I’d only ever seen that sharp expression directed at his business rivals. I knew what it meant. Suspicion. The trust between us was falling apart. Or perhaps the moment I began examining that trust, it had already ceased to exist. I gave a helpless smile and shrugged to show I had nothing to do with it. I knew he wouldn’t believe me. I did it anyway. Adrian patiently soothed Noah. “I’ll always be your daddy. You’re such a good boy. How could I ever stop wanting you?”Hidden in those words was a condition: be good, and you won’t be abandoned. I began watching every word and gesture, searching for clues as I tried to understand a man I’d known for more than thirty years. Outside the hospital room, Adrian turned his suspicion on me for the first time. “Did you teach him to say that? You could’ve just talked to me. Why drag an innocent child into this? He’s your son, too.” “Why did you record that interview without discussing it with me?” I refused to answer such an idiotic question. Using my child as a weapon was beneath me. He slowly turned his back. “I’ve expanded Hayes Group to four times its original size. Do I really need your permission to make a movie apologizing to someone I loved when I was young? Aren’t you overstepping a little, Ms. Bennett?” That sounded familiar. When he’d first taken over Hayes Group, he used to hold me and beg for advice whenever a problem came up. “You’re my wife. Who would dare object to you having a say in my life? You handle the small things. As for the big things… I’ll turn those into small things, and you can handle them, too!” Now the person objecting was him. Perhaps he’d forgotten that without my family’s help, Hayes Group would have been swallowed by another company long ago. “I’m your wife,” I said, repeating his own words. Adrian turned around and took hold of my arms. “Sweetheart, don’t make a scene. Don’t worry. I’m just making amends for a mistake I made when I was young.” I understood the message beneath his words: Relax. Whatever I do out there, you’re still the one at home. What a joke. Why should I keep a home waiting for him? I pushed his hands away. “Let go. My tolerance for stupidity has run out.” Noah and I stayed away from home for the next two weeks. Adrian assumed I was sulking. Besides, he thought he knew me well enough. As he’d always said, I was rational, understanding, intelligent, and good under pressure. He expected me to process this on my own. I decided to get him out of my system instead. While he busied himself with preparations for filming, I carefully assembled everything I needed for a divorce. Twelve years. Two intertwined family businesses. There was a great deal to untangle. Before I could tell my parents, my mother called. “Claire, do you still love Adrian that much? Why haven’t you divorced him yet? No daughter of ours should have to put up with this.” “Your father and I are behind you!” I hadn’t cried once since hearing about his movie. I’d managed to reassure my new assistant, comfort my son when the rumors reached his kindergarten, and even march into the school to demand they protect him. But at my mother’s words, I burst into tears. We cried together on opposite ends of the phone. “I’m going to divorce him.” “Whatever happens, remember that your father and I are still here. We’ll always stand up for you.” Through my tears, I nodded firmly. Old memories slowly rose to the surface.Our families had always been close. As a little girl, I’d followed Adrian everywhere, calling his name. Then middle school and puberty hit. My face broke out in acne. My classmates called me ugly and said my face was ruined. How could the Bennett family’s little princess simply accept that? But when I fought back, their cruelty only grew. My notebooks were torn apart. Sticky liquid coated my desk and wouldn’t wipe off. People put things in my drinks. Whispers followed me everywhere. Then Adrian had appeared like a hero. He was handsome and popular in the high school division. Plenty of the middle school kids knew him, too. So when he stormed into our classroom, shut down their insults, and raised his fists to warn them not to bully me, I felt as though he’d saved my life. I remembered him draping an arm over my shoulders and telling them, “She’s under my protection. Anyone who wants to mess with her can answer to me.” I’d analyzed that sentence a thousand times in my diary. He hadn’t said I was like a little sister or an old family friend. He’d said I was under his protection. Did that mean… I was his? At thirty-four, I could answer that clearly: not anymore. After middle school, my parents sent me abroad. They’d hoped I would grow more confident and outgoing. And so I’d missed the passionate year Adrian now talked about. By the time I came home, the stone had already sunk to the bottom of the lake. Not a ripple remained. Those years overseas had helped me grow. I’d become far more confident and comfortable with myself. But around Adrian, I still got nervous. I agonized over every word I said to him. Even after he told me he loved me, I never completely let loose around him. He often praised how mature and sensible I’d become abroad. That wasn’t the reason. I’d simply loved him too much. I couldn’t bear to argue over little things. That was why our marriage had always been so polite and peaceful. I liked that quiet, steady kind of happiness. Unfortunately, the things we handle too carefully are often the easiest to break.