Even as his indifference toward me grew stronger, I still desperately believed I could save our failing marriage if I just tried hard enough.
That was the only reason I had booked a week on a private island in the Caribbean for our fifth anniversary, securing a villa complete with a personal chef, full staff, and a private beach for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
I did it because Caleb had spent months telling me that I was cold and that my company had turned me into a woman who no longer had a home in her heart.
He said he needed a wife who was more present and traditional, and I was naive enough to believe he truly missed me.
The night before the trip, I handed him the itinerary inside a heavy black envelope embossed with gold lettering.
“This trip is just for the two of us, Caleb, with no meetings, no business calls, and absolutely no outside distractions,” I told him softly.
Caleb barely looked up from his smartphone as he took the envelope with a dismissive grunt.
“I certainly hope the internet connection is decent out there, because I cannot just disappear from my responsibilities just because you feel guilty about your own schedule,” he replied.
It hurt to hear that, but I swallowed my pride and forced a smile because I wanted this trip to be a fresh start.
The next morning, I arrived at the private dock thirty minutes late because of an urgent situation at the office that required my immediate approval.
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