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

dropped,

stack of papers from beside

back at him, sharp as a slap. Jessica

tightened. He crumpled the papers in

at Jessica, his tone crisp. "You'd throw away a

language, her movements sharp.

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 parent-teacher day

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

followed her eyes to the empty space on the

his head, meeting Jessica's

Timothy's lips, and his voice softened. "Jealous,

she'd been ready for a fight, expecting their

But she recovered quickly.

change the subject,* she signed, her gestures slower

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