That was my tenth year married to Logan.

We had just had a huge fight over Regina.

He promised me, over and over, that he would stop getting involved with her. No more late-night calls, no more staying on the phone until she fell asleep.

I believed him.

People say the ten-year mark is the tin anniversary. Tin may be soft, but it holds up; just like a marriage that has weathered ten years and still stands.

I told myself this was just a bump in the road. That what we had couldn't be shaken by someone like Regina.

That night, I stood in front of the anniversary cake he made himself, flipping through the photo album he had put together of our years.

And I believed in him even more.

I closed my eyes and wished for another ten years together.

When I opened them again, just a sliver, I saw him looking down, a faint smile at the corner of his lips.

Behind him, the mirror caught the glow of his phone screen.

On our anniversary, he was on the phone with Regina, sharing quiet breaths like I wasn't even there.

That day, I lost it. I smashed the cake and tore every photo to pieces.

I went straight to Regina's place and dragged her into a fight. It got so bad that she ended up in the hospital.

When the police showed up, Logan handled everything.

He looked at me like I was some kind of stranger, his eyes cold and his voice distant. "Regina's kind. She won't press charges. You should reflect on yourself."

After that, everything changed.

They didn't even bother hiding anymore.

Every night I lay there, pretending to sleep, they were on the phone.

Sometimes, he would hum to her, soft and low, like a lullaby. Other times, he would pick up some dense, boring book and read it out loud, just to help her drift off.

I pulled myself back to the present.

"Does that really sound innocent to you?" I asked Logan.

His expression shifted. The arm he had around Regina loosened.

"I…"

"Logan, I don't feel right." Regina clutched her chest, dragging in sharp, uneven breaths like she was drowning. "There's a voice in my head. It keeps telling me to die. It won't stop."

She grabbed her hair, shaking, screaming like she had lost control.

"Logan, it hurts! I don't want to live anymore!"

She collapsed into his arms, sobbing so hard that she couldn't speak.

Logan picked her up without hesitation. He glanced at me. "I'm taking her to the hospital."

At the door, he paused for a second. "We'll talk when I get back."

The door opened and shut. Cold air rushed in, cutting straight through me.

Logan wasn't stupid.

How could he not know what real depression looked like? Someone with that much energy, that kind of frantic outburst… How was that depression?

Lightning flashed again outside, thunder rolling right after.

Tonight felt just like the day I first met him.

More than twenty years ago, my father was driving us home in a storm just like this. A flash of lightning lit up the road, and that was when I saw Logan, collapsed on the side. He was covered in injuries, his clothes torn in several places.

My father brought him home.

He had a raging fever, and he was mumbling nonsense in his sleep. After the family doctor got his temperature down, I sat by his bed, watching him.

His face was bruised all over. Even asleep, his brows were tightly drawn.

When the police got involved, we found out he had run away from an orphanage. The director there was a monster who beat the kids whenever he felt like it.

After that, the orphanage director was arrested. The place was shut down, and the kids were sent elsewhere.

Logan stood there, stiff and out of place among them.

I tugged on my father's sleeve.

That was how he became part of our family.

From the time we were kids until we grew up, we were never apart.

Until my father was killed in a car crash set up by his enemies. My family went under overnight.

At 18, Logan stood in front of my father's grave, gripping my hand like his life depended on it. He swore he would get revenge and rebuild Welch Enterprises. He promised he would love me for the rest of his life.

He kept the first promise.

He had a sharp instinct for business. Using the trust fund my father left me, he brought the Welches back into high society in just two years.

The people who hurt us either ended up dead or behind bars because of him.

Logan became one of the most talked-about names in Westport.

The day Logney Corporation went public, he got down on one knee in front of the entire city's media and proposed to me.

That night, fireworks lit up Westport from dusk till dawn.

When he proposed, his eyes shone like they held the whole sky. You could see the brimming affection in them.

But the heart doesn't always stay the same.

I picked up my phone and called my lawyer.

"Mr. Baldwin, I need you to draft the divorce papers. Handle everything."

Whatever Logan and I had left was over.

Logan came back just as the sky was starting to lighten.

He had two orders of churros in his hand.

They came from an elderly couple who ran a little morning stand. If you showed up too late, they would already be sold out.

Back when it was just the two of us, we used to walk there every morning, hand in hand, to grab our favorite churros.

"You're up? Come eat."

He leaned in and kissed my forehead, just like always.

As if every fight we'd ever had could disappear as long as neither of us brought it up again.

Logan set the churros down in front of me, warm and familiar.

"Try it. See if it tastes the same. When I got there this morning, their son and daughter-in-law were running the stand. He said the old couple's at home taking care of their grandkid now."

His eyes lit up as he talked.

"Whitney, remember what you said? You said that when we're old, we'll run a churro stand, too. I'll make the churros, and you'll just sit there and take the money."

He kept going, lost in his imagination.

I didn't answer.

The churro in my mouth turned dry and dense, the sugar clinging as it stuck in my throat no matter how hard I tried to swallow.

"I really only see Regina as family." He kept explaining. "You know what she's been through. Maybe I feel sorry for her because she doesn't have anyone, just like me. That's why I take care of her a little more. And with her depression, if I don't stay on top of it, I'm scared she'll do something reckless."

Seeing me sit there quietly eating, he added, "About our anniversary, you only saw half the fireworks. I'll make it up to you tonight. Eight o'clock."

My hand tightened under the table.

My flight was at 8 p.m.

"And that dress you really liked, I had it sent over, too."

His phone rang, cutting him off.

"Regina?" His voice shifted instantly, sharp with concern. "Don't overthink it. I'm coming right now."

He stood up in a rush.

At the door, he paused and looked back at me. "I'll be waiting for you tonight, Whit."

For a second, I just stood there.

Whit.

He used to call me that when we were kids.

He called me Whit the day he made his promise at my father's grave.

He called me Whit when he held me close during those intimate nights.

I hadn't heard it in a long time.

And I wouldn't hear it again.

-

The plane cut through the night sky. Below, fireworks lit up Westport.

Logan sat by the window. This was the restaurant Whitney had loved since she was a kid.

A flash of red caught his eye. He looked up, a hint of relief crossing his face.

"Whit—wait. What are you doing here?"

His expression darkened almost immediately.

Regina stood there, twisting the hem of the red dress he had picked out for Whitney, looking nervous and unsure.

"Was I not supposed to come? I'm sorry. I didn't know. I thought we were family."

Before, whenever she said things like that, he would soften, his voice turning gentle as he comforted her.

But right now, all he felt was irritation. His mind was somewhere else entirely. He tried calling Whitney a few times, but she didn't pick up once.

Then, an unfamiliar number flashed across his screen.

"Mr. Atkinson, hello. This is Baldwin & Associates. Ms. Welch has retained us to handle her divorce from you…"

Logan's chest seized. His breathing faltered, just for a second.