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.

in Timothy's chest. Lately, everything felt as if it were slipping out of his

His voice dropped, shadowed

set the scissors down, picked up a stack of papers from beside her, and

at him, sharp as a slap. Jessica

tightened. He crumpled the papers in his fist and tossed them

Jessica, his tone crisp. "You'd

in sign language, her movements sharp. *What is a

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

wedding photo once hung, her hands still moving.

eyes to the empty

meeting Jessica's cool,

smile curved Timothy's lips, and

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

But she recovered quickly.

subject,* she signed, her gestures slower now,

paused, 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