Have you ever wondered if regret will imprison you, or does it set us free as the truth does?

Regret was the one thing I had. It owned my charred black soul. That emotion was digging so deep into my bones like a deadly disease.

I hid it well. Let people believe I was a kind man.

I’m far from one. I’m brash, bold, and angry at the curveball life has thrown at me.

My saving grace came in the form of a tiny bundle wrapped in pink.
My daughter.

The day I learned I’d raise her on my own, was the day I kept the only vow I didn’t intend to break. I wasn’t letting a woman in my bed or my heart. There wasn’t room for one with my daughter owning one half and a woman I let slip through my fingers holding onto the other without her knowing it.

I kept that vow until now.

She’s back.

The one that owns the other half of my heart.

She’s carrying more pain than she left with, I can see it in her eyes. I should never have let her go, and now my regret is here, facing me head-on. I made a mistake, one I plan to rectify.

I am a Mitchell, after all. I’ll stop at nothing to get what I want.

Her.

I have to prove to her that there will be no more broken promises, show her that my heart, the half I gave to her so long ago, is still hers.