Richard stood at the jeweller's counter longer than he had intended.
The shop was quiet, muted in the way high-end places often were, all soft lighting and velvet-lined trays. The assistant waited patiently while he studied the selection in front of him, though his mind had already settled on one piece in particular.
It was simple. A fine gold chain, delicate rather than showy, with a small pendant suspended at its centre. The letter H, set with tiny diamonds that caught the light without demanding attention. Elegant. Understated. Something Helene could wear every day if she chose, not something that would sit in a box, brought out only for occasions.
He picked it up, feeling the cool metal in his palm.
"Yes," he said quietly. "This one."
As the assistant wrapped it carefully, Richard felt a flicker of something unfamiliar and oddly grounding. This was not about impressing her. It wasn't about grand gestures or declarations. It was about letting her know she was thought of. Chosen. Held in his mind even when he wasn't with her.
He placed the box in his coat pocket and left the shop, already turning over his next thought.
Robert arrived at Richard's office the following morning looking faintly bemused.
"You sounded mysterious on the phone," he said as he took the chair opposite Richard's desk. "I was half-expecting a corporate emergency."
Richard smiled. "Nothing quite that dramatic."
Robert relaxed back slightly, waiting.
"I wanted to talk to you about Christmas," Richard began. "I've decided to take Chloe and Drew to Belgium for a few days."
Robert's eyebrows lifted. "That sounds lovely."
"I hope so," Richard said. "I think they need something different this year. A change of scene. Something… lighter."
Robert nodded, understanding more than was said.
"I've spoken to Helene about it," Richard continued. "She's fine with the plan. Encouraging, actually. But I still feel…" He paused, searching for the right word. "Reluctant, I suppose. To be away from her over Christmas."
Robert smiled faintly. "That's usually a good sign."
"There's more," Richard said. "I'm going to tell the children about her. When we return."
That got Robert's full attention. "And how do you feel about that?"
"Good," Richard replied after a moment. "It's time. I don't want to hide something that matters. And I don't want it to feel like a secret when it doesn't need to be."
Robert nodded slowly, supportive, but thoughtful. "That makes sense."
There was a pause, then Robert frowned slightly. "I still don't know why I'm here."
Richard reached into his desk drawer and took out the small box.
"I need a favour," he said, sliding it across the desk.
Robert opened it, then closed it again with care. He let out a low whistle. "Well. You're making the rest of us look terrible."
Richard smiled. "It's not meant to be a competition."
"It absolutely is," Robert said dryly. "Isabelle is going to take one look at this and wonder why she isn't being spoiled."
"You could start by spoiling her," Richard said, unrepentant. "Every day, if possible."
Robert huffed a quiet laugh. "Family life is busy. You know that. I'm working from home, juggling things —"
"I do know," Richard interrupted gently. "And that's exactly why I'm saying it. Work comes and goes. A good woman doesn't. Don't make the same mistakes of our past."
The words hung between them, heavier than either had expected.
Robert looked down at the box again, his expression shifting. "You're right," he said finally. "I can do better. I should do better."
Richard nodded. "We all should."
"So what's the favour?" Robert asked.
"I'd like you to give it to Helene," Richard said. "On Christmas Day. Surprise her. I'll be away, and I want her to know she's not an afterthought."
Robert closed the box carefully. "I can do that."
"Thank you."
They spoke a little longer — about work, about the children, about nothing urgent at all — before Robert stood to leave.
As he walked out of the building, what Richard had said stayed with him. He didn't go straight home.
Instead, he stopped at a spa in Knightsbridge. He booked a treatment package without overthinking it — massage, facial, the works. She would never do this for herself. Michael was now four months old. Isabelle was constantly giving, constantly tired, yet glowing with love. She never asked for recognition or thanks.
He left feeling lighter than he had in weeks. He knew what he needed to do.
Later that afternoon, Richard sent Helene a message.
How is your day going?
Her reply came a few minutes later.
A little slow. I think I'm coming down with a cold. Sore throat, nothing dramatic.
It bothered him more than he expected.
He didn't tell her that. Instead, he made a decision.
A couple of hours later, Helene heard the doorbell ring, she was curled on the sofa with a blanket, feeling vaguely ridiculous for how drained she felt. When she opened the door to find flowers — soft whites and pinks — and a small bag from the pharmacy, she blinked in surprise.
Richard's driver smiled politely as he handed her them and left.
Her phone buzzed almost immediately.
I hope the flowers cheer you up.
She laughed softly to herself as she typed back.
You really didn't need to send anything.
I know, he replied. But I wanted to.
She stared at the screen for a moment before responding.
Thank you.
Get plenty of rest.
I will. I promise.
Good, he typed back. I hope you feel better very soon.
That evening, Richard sat with Chloe and Drew at the dining table.
"I've had an idea," he said, watching their faces carefully. "What would you think about going to Belgium for Christmas?"
Chloe's eyes lit up immediately. Drew's followed a second later.
"Really?" Chloe said. "Like… Brussels?"
"And Bruges," Richard replied. "And anywhere else we feel like."
Drew grinned. "That sounds amazing."
Relief loosened something in Richard's chest.
They talked about trains and waffles and Christmas markets, the excitement building easily between them. The house felt light again.
Later, when the children had gone upstairs, Richard stood alone for a moment in the quiet.
There were things still to be said. Conversations still to come. But tonight, at least, felt right.
And somewhere not far away, Helene was resting, wrapped in a blanket, flowers on her table, unaware of the small diamond set pendant waiting patiently to find its way to her.