Part 3The Frame She Left Empty

When Meredith emerged with the group hours later, she walked over and handed me a small souvenir—a miniature Mona Lisa refrigerator magnet.

I froze.

Meredith wasn't completely devoid of sentiment. For birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays, she always bought tasteful flowers and expensive gifts. If I paused in front of a pair of sneakers while we were out shopping, she would tap her card without a second thought.

But company trips were different. In public, we were strictly executive and subordinate.

A brief flicker of warmth rose in my chest. But before I could speak, Cody bounced over, carrying a paper tote bag full of gift shop merchandise.

"Well, Ian? Pretty sweet surprise, right?" Cody beamed. "I had to beg the boss forever before she agreed to buy it for you. I told her, who cares if it’s a business trip? You’re married! It’s totally messed up to go on vacation and not bring your partner back a souvenir."

Over the last eight years, it wasn't as if I hadn't tried to break through Meredith’s emotional walls.

Every time I tried, she shut me down.

"To love someone means accepting the way they express it," she used to say. "Your way of loving is too intense for me, too demanding. But I tolerate it. You should extend me the same courtesy."

Yet here she was, learning how to show tenderness in front of a crowd.

It had taken another boy thirty minutes to teach her what I couldn't in nearly a decade.

"Hey, Cody, there's a piece of paper stuck in your guidebook," someone said, reaching over to pull it out.

It was the missing Louvre ticket.

"Wait, when did that slip in there?" Cody’s eyes widened with exaggerated remorse. "Oh, Ian, I am so, so sorry! Go ahead, dock my pay!"

I looked at Meredith. Her face was calm, without a trace of reprimand.

I looked away, shaking my head. "It's fine."

Back at the boutique hotel, Meredith went into the bathroom to shower.

I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, then absentmindedly opened my phone. The algorithm immediately pushed Cody’s latest public post onto my feed.

"Shoutout to the best boss in the world for making my dreams come true!"

"PS: Don't ship us, guys. The lady is already taken."

I went to swipe past it, but a string of comments caught my eye.

"She is definitely into you. Look at how her shoulders angle toward you in literally every picture."

My thumb hesitated, then dragged the carousel to the left.

It was true. In every single snapshot Meredith appeared in, her body was tilted subtly, protectively, toward Cody.

I tapped into the comment section.

The top comment had hundreds of likes: "Sarlat? Who takes a corporate retreat to a tiny medieval village ten hours away from Paris? That's not a business trip, that's someone granting a very specific wish."

"Shoot your shot, man. You might actually win the grand prize."

The AC blew warm air across the room, but my fingertips went numb.

When we were finalizing the retreat itinerary last month, Meredith had casually looked up from her laptop and said, "Add Sarlat-la-Canéda to the route."

I had been confused by the sudden detour. "It’s way out of the way. If we go all the way down there, we won't have time to see the coast in Normandy."

"I heard they have golden limestone houses," she had replied. "I want to watch the sunrise there with you."

I opened Cody’s saved travel bucket list from his public profile, matching the destinations one by one. Every single stop on our itinerary aligned perfectly with his notes.

And right beside the entry for Sarlat, he had written: "Watch the sunrise among the golden stone cottages."

A sudden wave of nausea hit me.

The bathroom door opened, and Meredith walked out, tying her plush robe around her waist.

"Are you still sulking?" she asked, drying her hair with a towel. "Next year during our personal time off, I'll bring you back to Paris, just the two of us. We can spend an entire day inside the Louvre."

"What about the sea in Normandy?" I asked, my voice flat. "Does that have to wait for 'next time' too?"

I looked up at her. "Why didn't Cody have to wait for next time?"

She caught sight of the phone screen in my hand. Her expression hardened slightly. "He’s a kid straight out of college, Ian. Why are you measuring yourself against an intern?"

"I was straight out of college when I started working for you, too."

"Ian," she warned, her tone cooling. "Don't make a scene."