Part 2Zero Minutes

The heater in the car was running high, filling the space with his signature cedarwood fragrance. I leaned against the passenger window, watching the city streetscape rapidly recede outside.

Julian kept both hands on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

“You stayed for an extra forty-two seconds back there,” he said. “To make up for the schedule delay caused by those forty-two seconds, tonight’s quality time together will have to be shortened accordingly.”

I didn’t even bother to look up as I replied, “Whatever you want.”

As if dissatisfied with my attitude, he reached over with one hand to turn up the air conditioner.

“Riley, rules are rules. Time is a constant. If you overspend here, you must pay it back elsewhere. This is the foundation that keeps our marriage operating efficiently.”

I found it hilarious listening to him rattle off all his technical jargon.

An efficiently operating marriage? Did he mean his strict routine of allocating two hours of his so-called undivided attention to me every day, only to spend the rest of the day with that mother and child at the Southside residence?

“My head hurts. I’m taking a nap.” I closed my eyes, trying to cut off this suffocating conversation.

“There are still fifteen minutes until your optimal nap window.”

Julian pressed a button on the center console, and soft white noise began playing through the car speakers.

He continued, “You can do an eyes-closed meditation. In fifteen minutes, I’ll lower the seat back angle so you can enter deep sleep.”

He even reached over and placed his hand precisely on my chest.

“Your heart rate is fast, and your body temperature is slightly low. You’ll need a warm drink heated to a hundred and thirteen degrees Fahrenheit when we get home.”

I jerked my hand back so suddenly that the seatbelt buckle made a sharp clacking sound.

“Julian, I’m not your experimental data.”

He froze for a moment, then looked at me with a patronizing gaze. “You’ve been really emotional today. I understand. It’s the lingering effects from your sister’s death anniversary.”

He withdrew his hand and gripped the steering wheel once more.

“I’ll log your emotional fluctuations into the family’s master schedule. Tomorrow’s therapy will be increased by twenty minutes.”

Staring at his perpetually rational facade, the knot I felt in my stomach twisted. He even had to quantify my grief into data, logging it inside that cloud calendar that hid his other secret family.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, and a confirmation text from a preschool popped up on the screen. Because I had once used this phone number to register for various lifestyle services for Julian, I was still listed as the backup contact for some of those accounts.

[Dear Mr. Stewart, your toddler’s gym session with Ms. Chloe Hudson has been confirmed. Please arrive at the Southside campus promptly at 2:00 p.m.]

I stared at the text and felt my eyes water.

Toddler’s gym session. Ms. Chloe Hudson. They didn’t even bother to disguise her name. Just like that, they were openly spending time together right under my nose.

“Who’s the text from?” Julian asked as he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.

“Just spam.”

“Your heart rate accelerated again. Did you see something triggering?”

I calmly deleted the message and casually opened an encrypted document in my notes app. The title of the document read “Draft Divorce Agreement.”

“If you have any objections to the current schedule, you can bring them up during tonight’s review session,” Julian said, continuing to appease me with his logic when he saw I wasn’t speaking. “As long as your request aligns with the optimal solution for the schedule, I will adjust it as appropriate.”

I looked at the dense clauses of asset division in the document as my fingertips tapped lightly on the scree.

Julian was wrong about one thing. I didn’t have any requests. I was simply waiting for the exact moment to settle the score.

“The current arrangement is fine.” I locked my phone and turned to look at him. “After all, you’ve given me enough time to do a lot of things.”

Satisfied, Julian nodded. “It’s best that you think this way. Emotional stability is the core of a long-lasting marriage.”

He stepped on the brake, and the car came to a steady stop at a red light.

“We’re twelve minutes away from home. You can sleep now.”

I closed my eyes and silently recited the date printed on the divorce agreement once more in my mind.

Julian Stewart, I would occupy no time in your schedule again.

As for the Southside residence, I'd go check it out.