Claire had made a show of sincerity by hiring a weekly housekeeper. But a paid stranger wouldn't hand-wash intimate apparel or obsessively rearrange and color-code an entire wardrobe.
Standing before the master bedroom closet, I stared at the unnatural orderliness. A cold knot tightened in my stomach. Every neatly folded shirt, every aligned hanger screamed that this house had acquired a new male master.
Then I saw it.
A new addition to the photo wall. Claire holding the child, leaning into Colin's arm. She was smiling gently—a soft, domestic look I rarely saw anymore.
It had been taken on Claire's birthday. Colin had shown up in a crisp white shirt, holding a small homemade cake. He'd smiled shyly, asking for a picture to "share in the birthday girl's luck." I hadn't thought twice before snapping it for them.
I never imagined he'd print it out and hang it in our master bedroom.
A silent, brazen provocation.
Voices drifted in from the living room.
"He was at fault first," Claire said, defensive. "You were just being kind. If he doesn't appreciate it, that's his problem. Why apologize?"
A pause—likely listening to Colin—then: "Ruby is young and talented. Smooth sailing her whole life, never suffered real hardships, so she has a temper. I don't want you two fighting because of me. I'll apologize to her first. You soften your attitude, and we'll consider it closed."
Her voice lowered, but the walls were thin.
"I just don't want you suffering," she murmured. "He doesn't know what's good for him…"
Through the crack in the door, I saw Colin place a hand over her lips. His eyes held a cloying, sticky affection that made bile rise in my throat.
"Hush," he said softly. "I know how hard it is for you. I can handle a little unfairness. It's nothing."
That was it.
The last shreds of hope disintegrated. I closed my eyes, letting the anger burn away my remaining hesitation.
When I opened them, I was calm. I walked out.
They sprang apart in panic, but I didn't care. I looked at my wife expressionlessly.
"Claire. I can't live with you anymore."
I didn't blink. "Pick a day. Let's get a divorce."
Claire froze. She stared at me, then took a deep breath and turned to the man beside her. "Colin, you can't fix this. Go home."
To my disbelief, tears instantly welled in his eyes. He stepped toward me, pitiful.
"Ruby, don't say that," he pleaded, trembling. "Divorce is such a heavy word. It brings bad luck to say it so casually."
He pressed a hand to his chest. "I came to apologize. I overstepped. I thought because we were friends, I could help out, but I had no boundaries. It's all my fault. A thousand times, my fault."
He sniffled, wiping his eyes. "From now on, I'll keep my distance. Just me and my son, alone. I'm used to it. But please, don't divorce Claire because of me. She's such a good woman…"
He broke into theatrical sobs, shoulders shaking.
Claire's expression hardened. She looked at his weeping form, hands clenching into fists. When she turned back to me, her eyes were cold.
"Ruby, Colin has humiliated himself enough. I don't want to fight with you."
She stepped closer, voice dropping to steel. "You know this. A divorce right now would destroy your career. Don't bring it up again. I'll pretend I never heard it."
My jaw tightened.
We'd joined the same conglomerate before our marriage. Different departments, but when the company promoted a new Vice President, we were the final two candidates.
Back then, to help my parents accept her faster, I'd withdrawn my candidacy.
I handed her the victory.
