The New Emily Hills

 ASHER As I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of my suit, Amy’s words echoed relentlessly in my mind. My secretary’s voice—calm, professional, yet hesitant kept replaying, refusing to fade even as I forced myself to focus on my reflection. I had sent her to the Hills residence earlier today. The instruction was simple, almost harmless: deliver everything Emily would need for Mr. Taylor’s birthday party. Dresses. Jewelry. A quiet reminder that… I was still her husband. But Emily had refused. “Unless it was about our divorce, don’t bother coming to me.” That was exactly what she said. No raised voice. No unnecessary drama. Just a straightforward statement—clean, precise, and far more painful than any slap could ever be. My jaw tightened as the memory resurfaced. I never imagined Emily was capable of that kind of firmness. For years, I had known her as calm and rational, someone who always chose her words carefully. She had never been cruel with her honesty. Never sharp. Never deliberately hurtful. She's the most sensible woman I know. Until that day. Until the hospital incident. She had been furious. Her eyes—once filled with patience and understanding were now blazing with anger and disappointment. She didn’t look like Emily at all. Or perhaps… this was the first time I was truly seeing her. I took a deep breath and stared at my reflection again. My suit was flawless. No wrinkles. No cracks in the armor. No visible signs of weakness. I needed to look good. I needed to look whole. I knew Emily would attend Mr. Taylor’s birthday party. Whether it was because of her family or out of obligation, I was certain she would be there, standing proudly as the new CEO of Hills Pharma. And if our paths crossed tonight, I wanted her to see one thing clearly: I was determined to bring her back to my side. I walked toward the door, but before I could leave the room, I stopped. My gaze drifted toward the bed. Our bed. Three years. For three long years, we slept side by side on that mattress—together, yet always separated by an invisible distance. Why? Because of me, I chose to give her the cold shoulder, driven by the belief that I was a failure. Because I convinced myself that people saw me as a weak man—someone who needed a woman to succeed. I shook my head, refusing to dwell on it any longer. Turning my back on the memories, I walked out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the house toward the waiting car. When I arrived at the hotel where Mr. Taylor’s birthday party was being held, my eyes immediately scanned the room. Familiar faces. Polite smiles laced with calculation. Hands eager to shake as long as there was something to gain. But there was only one person I was searching for. Emily. A frown creased my face when I failed to find her. My chest tightened, my heartbeat quickening—whether from anxiety or irritation, I couldn’t tell. I was about to head toward an empty table when a voice suddenly called out. “Ash!” I stopped. I knew that voice. Turning around, I wasn’t surprised at all. “Corrine,” I said as she approached, giving her a brief nod. “You’re here, too.” My tone was neutral. Not cold, but not warm either. Just enough to avoid rudeness, yet clear enough to establish distance. She smiled, as if she hadn’t noticed anything unusual about my reaction. Or perhaps she simply chose to ignore it. “Your mom told me to come,” she said, stepping a little closer. “To accompany you.” I nodded slightly, though something inside me sank. I knew I didn’t need her—more importantly, she wasn’t the person I wanted beside me tonight. And yet, no matter how much I wanted to push her away, I couldn’t. I owed Corrine something, a debt I couldn’t simply erase. I always owe something to a woman. Emily and then her. When my sister, Alisson, was in an accident, Corrine was one of the first people on the scene. It was a night filled with sirens, blood, and terror—a night when I thought I was about to lose the only sibling I had. Alisson had been involved in a severe car crash. There were countless injured victims. Blood everywhere. The hospital ran dangerously low on supplies, and the doctors were close to giving up. There wasn’t enough blood. There wasn’t enough time. And that was when Corrine stepped in. She had been a patient herself—bruised, scratched, but only mildly injured. Capable of donating, the doctor had said. And she didn’t hesitate. No questions. No complaints. At that moment, she saved my sister’s life. Even now, even with a part of me wanting to push her away, I can’t bring myself to be rude to Corrine. I can’t ignore the debt I owe her, not when that debt was paid in blood and fear and a life that could have been lost. Even if the price I pay is the uneasy silence of my own conscience. Corrine and I walked side by side toward the table. Naturally, she slipped her hand around my arm, a gesture familiar to the eyes of others, something that looked effortless, almost expected. I didn’t pull away. I let her hold on, even though I knew it was wrong, even though I knew someone else would be hurt the moment they saw us like this. Every step felt heavy, as if I were walking toward something inevitable, or running away from something I feared would finally happen. And before we even reached the table, I noticed something strange. Whispers. Soft at first, barely more than a breeze slipping between conversations. But slowly, they grew clearer. Louder. More synchronized. As if the entire room had been waiting for the same scene to unfold. I looked around. Almost every guest had turned their attention in a single direction. Something slammed hard against my chest. Slowly, I followed their gaze. And that was when I saw her. Emily. She was walking toward us. Not rushing. Not hesitating either. Each step was quiet, controlled—yet powerful enough to silence the entire function room. People instinctively stepped aside, creating space for her as she passed, as if the crowd itself recognized her presence and yielded. She was beautiful. Not because of what she was wearing—but because of what she carried. There was strength in her aura. A distance I could no longer cross so easily. At that moment, my hand went cold. I didn’t know when it started, but it was unmistakable—something about her had truly changed. Not just her posture. Not just her appearance. But her very presence. She wore a black off-shoulder gown, perfectly fitted to her body, as if deliberately revealing the curves she once tried so hard to hide. Elegant, yet dangerous. Never vulgar, but far from innocent. Every step felt like a warning rather than an invitation. Her hair was tied up, exposing her neck—and that was when I noticed the earrings and necklace glinting beneath the lights. Clearly expensive. Not flashy. Just refined. The kind of elegance that never begs for attention because it commands it effortlessly. I swallowed hard. I’ve never seen her wear black. She always chose light blue. Soft colors. Gentle shades. I loved that about her—or at least, I thought I did. Only now did it occur to me… maybe she wore those colors because she knew I liked them. But now— She was different. The Emily I used to know—easy to approach, easy to talk to, and easy to read was gone. The woman walking toward us now was fearless, unyielding, and looked ready to defend herself against anyone who dared cross her path. Especially me. She looked fierce. Strong. Like someone you’d have to think twice about approaching because you’d never know whether she’d welcome you… or shut you out completely. And once again— I was seeing her differently. “Is that Emily?” Corrine asked, shock unmistakable in her voice. I didn’t answer. All my attention was locked onto the woman walking toward me, the wife I felt like I was meeting for the first time all over again. Emily’s gaze swept over me. Just for a second. But it was enough for our eyes to meet. I saw her brow tighten slightly, followed by a smirk. Not a smile. Not anger either. An expression that said she knew something… and I was the punchline. As if she were laughing at me. My jaw hardened. I didn’t like that. I couldn’t accept being reduced to someone she could dismiss so easily—someone she could look at once, mock silently, and walk away from without regret. Before I could think better of it, my body moved on its own. I walked toward her. My steps were fast—too fast. I forgot that Corrine was still holding onto my arm. I nearly dragged her along as I rushed after Emily, but I didn’t care anymore. At that moment, only one thing was clear in my mind— I would not allow things to end like this. I would not allow her to look at me as if I were nothing more than a stranger with no value left in her life. And even though I still didn’t know what I was going to say— I was certain of one thing. I will not let this end between us. I will never—ever—divorce her in this lifetime.