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.

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

His voice dropped, shadowed

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

stared back at him, sharp

the papers in

sideways glance at Jessica, his tone crisp. "You'd

language, her movements sharp. *What is a 'perfectly

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

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

followed her eyes to the empty space on

meeting

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

ready for a fight,

But she recovered quickly.

subject,* she signed, her gestures

the one who took down the photo. You wanted proper wedding pictures,