I listened quietly to Cicely's accusations, showing no reaction.
But my eyes drifted unconsciously to her pale neck.
There, faint red marks lingered.
Noticing my stare, Cicely froze for a moment, then tugged her collar up to cover them.
Her tone stayed sharp.
"That slap was a lesson. Don't let it happen again. Harry's young—act your age."
I nodded without arguing.
"Got it. I'm tired. Going to bed."
I stood and walked into the bedroom.
Behind me, Cicely let out a cold hmph.
I lay down and closed my eyes, but my thoughts wouldn't settle.
"It was an accident—he just stepped on your hearing aid."
Cicely thought I was being petty.
But that hearing aid was a gift she'd given me when we first got together.
I'd treasured it, protected it carefully all these years.
It was a little worn now, sure, but it still worked perfectly.
Back then, she'd smiled as she placed it in my ear. In that instant, the world came into focus.
I heard her voice, bright and clear:
"Morton, I like you!"
The most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.
But after Harry crushed it, Cicely brushed it off with a single sentence.
She seemed to have forgotten what that hearing aid meant to me.
Out in the living room, I could hear her laughing, sending voice messages to someone.
Harry sent me another text—a screenshot of his chat with Cicely.
They were deep in conversation. She'd sent him a sweet "goodnight."
[Hey Morton, you and Cicely should get some rest too! I won't keep you up.]
Every word dripped with mockery.
I closed my eyes and stopped looking.
After Cicely finished washing up, she went into the other bedroom.
Ever since Harry joined the company and she'd gotten close to him, she refused to share a bed with me.
Whatever love I'd felt for her... it seemed to be fading.
The next morning, I wrote my resignation letter.
Then I went to the best law firm in the city and asked Attorney Megan Carter to draft a divorce agreement.
Only after that did I head to the office to finish my work.
Cicely was at Harry's desk, their heads nearly touching as they whispered about something.
Strange—watching them now, I felt nothing.
Harry spotted me first and called out.
"Morton! You're late today. You look terrible—rough night?"
His eyes gleamed with smugness as he leaned closer to Cicely.
Before I could respond, Cicely frowned at me.
"Just because you've been here longer doesn't mean you can ignore the rules. Keep this up and you won't last."
I smiled faintly, looking at them both.
"I'll be more careful. Thank you for the reminder, Ms. Swanson."
Her expression darkened instantly.
I rarely called her that. But now, I kept things polite. Distant.
Without another word, I sat down at my desk and buried myself in work.
My part of the project was nearly done. Even if I was leaving, I intended to finish what I'd started.
At lunch, I headed downstairs. Cicely's car was parked out front.
Harry climbed happily into the passenger seat.
When he saw me passing by, he called out.
"Morton! We're going to an Italian place—come with us!"
He made no move to give up his seat.
I shook my head with a small smile.
"Italian's not really my thing. You two go ahead."
I walked away without looking back.
Cicely's voice drifted faintly behind me.
"He's been so moody lately. Just ignore him—let's go eat."
I let out a quiet breath and pushed them from my mind.
While eating, I scrolled through my phone.
Harry had posted something new.
[My boss found out I smoke and got me a designer lighter! Best boss ever—I'm working for her forever!]
I raised an eyebrow at the photo.
A sleek lighter sat on the table. Italian food in the background.
And in the corner of the frame—Cicely's slender fingers.
Back when Cicely and I first got together, I used to smoke when I was stressed.
She'd always pluck the cigarette from my fingers and take a drag herself, coughing until her eyes watered.
I'd quickly stub it out and pat her back.
Through teary eyes, she'd pout at me, half-playful, half-annoyed.
"Morton, I hate the smell of smoke! If I catch you again, I'll smoke it myself just to make you feel bad!"
She'd ball up her little fist, looking so cute I couldn't help but laugh.
After that, I quit.
But once Harry came along and Cicely grew distant, I'd started reaching for cigarettes again.
Whenever she saw me smoking now, she'd wrinkle her nose in disgust and tell me to put it out. She hated the smell.
Yet here she was, buying a lighter for Harry.
I shook my head and put my phone away. A dull ache settled in my chest.
When I got home after work, I found a suit had been delivered—one Cicely had ordered for me.
She loved dressing herself up, and she loved dressing me up too.
Since we got married, she'd picked out all my clothes.
Whenever I put on something new, her eyes would light up. She'd circle around me, telling me I had the perfect build, that I was a natural clothes hanger.
Then she'd flutter into my arms like a butterfly and kiss my cheek.
Cicely said I looked best in suits, so she'd set up a standing order at a high-end menswear boutique—new pieces every season, delivered straight to our door.
Thinking about it stirred something in me.
I tried on the suit—and froze.
It didn't fit.
Cicely knew my measurements by heart. And after all these orders, the shop shouldn't have made a mistake.
I put the suit back in the bag and drove to the boutique.
I didn't expect to find Cicely and Harry there.
"Harry, you look amazing in that! I set up an account for you here—come whenever you want. It's all on me."
Cicely's delighted voice rang out.
I turned to look.
