Goodbye, Mr. Regret

The house felt cold and empty.

At least Mabel greeted them, stepping forward to take Timothy's coat and bag, hanging them up with practiced care.

Timothy frowned slightly.

"Where's my wife?"

"She's upstairs, in her room."

His brow furrowed deeper. "Has she eaten?"

"Mrs. Carter said she wasn't hungry..."

Timothy didn't hesitate. He went straight upstairs and opened the bedroom door. Jessica sat at her desk, a pair of scissors in hand, focused on cutting out delicate patterns from a piece of paper.

He walked over. Jessica didn't even look up at the sound of his footsteps.

Leaning against the desk, Timothy gazed down at her. "So, you're not making dinner, and you're not eating either?"

Jessica continued snipping the paper, blatantly ignoring him.

Lately, everything felt as if

dropped, shadowed

set the scissors down, picked up a stack of papers from beside her, and handed them to him.

at him, sharp as a slap. Jessica had already

crumpled the papers in his fist and tossed

cool, sideways glance at Jessica, his tone crisp. "You'd throw away a perfectly good life. What exactly is it

replied in sign language, her movements sharp. *What

continued, her hands steady. *Tell me, Timothy. Is a 'good life' a husband who's always away on business, who brings another woman to parent-teacher day and lets her play 'Mom'?

their wedding photo once hung, her hands still moving. *Or

her eyes to the

turned his head, meeting Jessica's cool,

a faint smile curved Timothy's lips, and his voice softened. "Jealous,

fight, expecting their argument to end with him storming out-a perfect

But she recovered quickly.

change the subject,* she signed, her

"I'm the one who took down the photo. You wanted proper wedding