Part 3The Husband’s Tactics

After dinner, I took a slow walk home.

The endless cycle of work had left me feeling disconnected from the world, but the simple, lively energy of the streets breathed a little life back into me.

Suddenly, I stopped. I was on a familiar street.

I realized the garage where Rina and I had started our company had been torn down long ago.

And the little bakery where we used to buy cheap buns to save a dollar a day was now a fancy pastry shop.

The world had moved on, and so had we.

Even the memories I once cherished had been eroded by time.

My phone rang, pulling me from my thoughts. It was my old professor.

His voice was hesitant. "Jim, your application to join the secret research for Project Chimera… the board approved it yesterday."

He paused. "But I have to ask you one last time, are you absolutely sure about this?"

"This mission will take at least five years. Without you, your company with your wife could collapse."

"Will she agree to this?"

I started walking again, leaving the street of ghosts behind me. My voice was firm.

"Professor, I'm getting a divorce."

…

The project was starting immediately, and I was eager to leave this life behind. I arranged for the professor's team to pick me up the next day.

With no desire to wander any longer, I hailed a cab home.

The living room lights were on. Rina was on the sofa, texting.

The moment she saw me, the frown on her face vanished. She rushed over, grabbing my hand. "Why didn't you wait for me at the restaurant? I got there and you were gone. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?"

I was momentarily stunned that she'd actually gone.

But her entitled indignation was almost laughable.

Then again, it was normal for her. She was used to me waiting.

I pulled my hand from her grasp. "I was done eating. Why would I stay?"

Perhaps sensing she was in the wrong, she reined in her frustration and handed me a gift box.

"I bought this especially for you today. Open it."

I wasn't surprised. After standing me up twice, she had to offer some form of compensation.

This was Rina's pattern. Every time she messed up, she’d toss me a small treat afterward.

And I, like a fool, would always be waiting, hoping the treat would be bigger this time—maybe a little more of her time.

I took the gift box and casually tossed it onto the sofa.

"You shouldn't have," I said, my tone polite but distant.

The smile froze on her face. For the first time, she seemed to register my indifference.

A flicker of panic crossed her eyes, and she reached for my hand again.

Just then, Miles's voice drifted down from the second floor.

"Rina, maybe I should just go home. I wouldn't want Jim to get the wrong idea when he gets back…"

He appeared at the top of the stairs, and upon seeing me, his feigned surprise was betrayed by the triumph in his eyes.

Rina rushed to explain. "Miles hurt his ankle yesterday, so I took him for a check-up today. That's why I was so late for dinner."

"He can't move around much, so I told him he could stay in the guest room for the night."

She watched me intently, as if expecting an explosion.

I just nodded. "Fine. Then I'll go to a hotel. I won't sleep under the same roof as him."

Rina was speechless, clearly not expecting this reaction.

"If you really don't want Miles here, I'll send him…"

Before she could finish, Miles let out a yelp, tumbling down the last few steps and clutching his ankle in agony.

Rina gasped and rushed to help him back to his room, fussing over him.

As I was dragging my suitcase to the door, Rina reappeared in the living room.

She bit her lip, her hand clamping around my wrist, refusing to let go.

The guilt in her eyes deepened with every passing second.

Finally, spurred by another pained groan from Miles's room, she spoke.

"Tomorrow," she pleaded. "I'll go with you to see your mother. We can talk, really talk, in front of her."

My face was a mask of indifference. I turned and left.

Talk?

She could talk to my lawyer.

The moment Miles Croft was in my house, the conversation was over. There was nothing left to discuss, not even a divorce.