Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Jessica stepped out of Herbert's car.

Herbert got out as well, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. He watched her go, his expression soft, his gaze lingering as she walked toward the house.

She'd barely taken a few steps when his voice called out, quiet but clear. "Little Mute."

Jessica turned back.

Herbert's lips parted, as if he'd meant to say something else, but he simply said, "Goodnight."

Jessica smiled and signed goodnight in sign language.

Herbert stood there, motionless, watching until she disappeared inside.

Upstairs, Timothy pinched his cigarette between his fingers, snapping it in half. The glowing tip scattered sparks onto the floor. He turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

Ding-

Jessica keyed in her code. The door swung open. She hadn't even reached for the light switch when strong arms swept her inside, pinning her against the door as someone's lips crashed onto hers.

A faint scent of tobacco, edged with cedar, filled her senses.

It took only a moment for her to realize it was Timothy.

She tried to pull away, but he'd already trapped her wrists, his grip iron-strong, his body pressing her immobile.

nowhere to

was flat against the door, the cool wood biting through her clothes, chilling her to

possessive, his heated breath mingling with hers, as

slid along her waist, his touch hot against her skin. Jessica's nerves sparked at

Tears

couldn't speak. Her resistance, feeble against his

she finally managed to cup Timothy's face with both hands, he seemed to think she was surrendering, leaning in for

But then-crack.

palm landed hard

Whatever desperate need had been burning inside him vanished

out and

coming in shaky gasps. Her

torn away, hair in disarray-while Timothy, save for some wrinkles in his suit jacket, looked every bit the composed man he pretended to be. But his eyes,

unshed tears, her silent

voice broke the silence, cold and flat. "What, I can't even touch you

the night

of them. Who knew what had

now Jessica was asking for a divorce. How could he expect her

shirt was already missing buttons, torn

battered and furious, her movements sharp

curling his lips. "Don't test