The Stranger I Married-Chapter 66: Regret

The soft click of the door signaled the close of another long day. Ella pulled her sweatshirt tighter around herself, the exhaustion of the shift pressing down on her shoulders like invisible weights. Despite the whispers, the cautious glances, and the lingering awkwardness of her coworkers, she had survived it. Just barely.

Nicholas had stayed the entire time, his presence steady, quiet, unwavering. He hadn’t hovered, hadn’t embarrassed her by making a scene, but he had been there—sitting at the farthest table, nursing a coffee that went cold hours ago. Every time her hands had trembled or the sharp sting of gossip had bitten her ears, all she had to do was glance up, and there he was. Watching. Waiting. Protecting.

Now, the streets were quiet under the weight of the evening. The hush after a storm.

Nicholas adjusted his coat as he pushed open the door for her, his hand settling firmly at the small of her back—a touch both protective and possessive, yet gentle. Ella didn’t resist. She needed that steady warmth grounding her right now.

"Let’s get you home," he murmured.

Ella nodded, eyes heavy. She was too tired to argue anymore, too drained to pretend she didn’t crave the comfort of his space, his warmth, the quiet assurance of his presence when her entire world felt sharp and broken.

They walked side by side down the dimly lit street toward where Nicholas had parked around the corner, away from prying eyes. She didn’t notice the figure in the shadows, standing still as a statue near the alley across from the shop.

But he saw everything.

Adrian stood cloaked in the deepening twilight, his fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight with restrained fury. His perfectly tailored suit felt like a cage on his skin, suddenly suffocating, hot beneath his collar. He hadn’t planned to be here. At least, that’s what he told himself earlier this afternoon as his car idled outside his office and his fingers hovered over his phone, debating whether to look her up.

But curiosity—or something crueler—had driven him here.

Ella.

The girl he once held in his arms behind the science building in college, the one who had looked at him with so much open, blinding trust it made him feel invincible.

And yet when it mattered, when her life shattered, when her mother was dying, and she needed someone—needed him—he had looked away. He had left. He had chosen comfort, reputation, family expectation over her.

Like a coward.

And now, as he stood there half in shadow, half in shame, he saw what had filled the space where he used to be.

Nicholas Carter.

The billionaire golden boy. The world’s favorite fairytale playing out in real time, splashed across every social feed, news headline, and late-night talk show panel.

"Tragic heiress protected by ruthless billionaire tycoon."

They had become the media’s obsession.

Earlier, Adrian had seen the clips—grainy footage of Nicholas gently helping Ella serve coffee at the café, handing out drinks, leaning close to her with that infuriating, tender gaze. Like she was precious. Like she was everything.

The internet had gone feral over it.

"HE EVEN HELPS HER MAKE LATTES 😭 boyfriend of the century."

"I want someone to look at me the way Nicholas looks at Ella."

"Crying in the club over this. True love isn’t dead."

It was unbearable. Adrian’s insides twisted violently with every photo, every adoring comment. That should’ve been me. It was supposed to be me.

But he hadn’t fought for her. And Nicholas had.

And now, watching the scene unfold before him—Nicholas gently guiding Ella to his car, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face before tucking her into the passenger seat like she was made of glass—Adrian felt that ache deepen into something raw and violent.

Ella’s soft laugh drifted through the cold air, fragile but real.

Adrian remembered that laugh. He remembered the way she used to bury her face in his chest when she was embarrassed, remembered the scent of her shampoo, the way her eyelashes curled slightly at the edges, remembered promising her a future they would build together.

But all he had ever built was excuses.

And now someone else was building that future with her.

Someone stronger.

Someone better.

He took a step forward out of the shadows, almost without realizing it, drawn to her like a man dying of thirst stumbling toward water. For a flicker of a second, Adrian could almost imagine how it would feel to call her name. Just once. To see if she would still turn to him the way she used to—soft, hopeful, waiting for him to choose her.

But then Nicholas glanced over his shoulder. Just for a second. As if sensing something.

Their eyes locked.

Adrian froze. The weight of Nicholas’s gaze pinned him to the pavement, sharp and knowing. There was no recognition, no spark of surprise—just a cool assessment, like he’d already sized Adrian up and found him lacking.

Because he was.

Nicholas didn’t say anything. Didn’t raise his voice or make a scene. He simply reached for the car door, opened it for Ella, and with a final lingering glance at Adrian, slid into the driver’s seat beside her.

And with that, the car pulled away, leaving Adrian alone on the sidewalk, surrounded by the ghosts of all the things he’d lost.

The silence roared in his ears louder than the passing traffic.

He could have fought for her.

He could have stood by her when she was drowning, grieving, broken.

But he hadn’t.

And the worst part—the part that twisted his gut with sharp, unbearable self-loathing—was that he hadn’t stayed away out of cruelty. No. It was weakness.

Fear.

His father’s voice, sharp with disdain, echoing in his head: "A woman like that will only drag you down. Leave her be. Focus on your career. You don’t need her dead weight." freewebnσvel.cѳm

And like a spineless fool, he had listened.

Now the world saw Ella for what she truly was—not the liability Adrian’s family once painted her to be, but a storm, a wildfire of resilience, of strength wrapped in fragility. And beside her stood a man who saw her that way, too.

Nicholas had stepped into the fire where Adrian refused to walk.

That should’ve been me, his mind repeated, a bitter chant like a wound being scratched raw again and again.

But it wasn’t.

And now, Ella wasn’t his to fight for anymore.

She was someone else’s everything.

And Adrian had nothing left but regret.