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.

Timothy's chest. Lately, everything felt as if it were

His voice dropped, shadowed with

picked up a stack of papers from beside her,

words *Divorce Agreement* stared back at him, sharp as a slap. Jessica had

the papers in his fist and tossed them

"You'd throw away a perfectly good life. What exactly is it

movements sharp. *What is a 'perfectly good

smile and continued, her hands steady. *Tell me, Timothy. Is a 'good life' a husband who's always away on business,

the bare wall where their wedding photo once hung, her hands still moving. *Or is it that you can't even stand to see our wedding photo

the empty space on the

meeting Jessica's

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

off guard. Just moments ago, she'd been ready for a fight, expecting their argument to end with him

But she recovered quickly.

subject,* she signed, her gestures slower now,

"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