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.

slow burn of frustration flared in Timothy's chest. Lately, everything felt as if it were slipping out of

voice dropped, shadowed with

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

stared back at him, sharp as a slap. Jessica had

in his fist

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

sign language, her movements sharp. *What

her hands steady. *Tell me, Timothy. Is a 'good life' a husband who's always away

wall where their wedding photo once hung, her hands still moving.

to the empty

his head, meeting Jessica's cool, clear

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

caught off guard. Just moments ago, she'd been ready for a fight, expecting their argument to end with him storming out-a perfect prelude to

But she recovered quickly.

the subject,* she signed,

then spoke, his voice gentler than before. "I'm the one who took down the photo. You wanted proper wedding pictures, didn't you? I'll arrange it. We'll go together, take as many as you