Winona's face darkened in an instant.
"Andrew, I want you to think for yourself. Don't just believe every rumor you hear."
"I chose you for the frontier posting because you're the best fit. Nothing more."
I nodded slowly.
Three years ago, when she decided we should marry in secret, she'd said the same thing.
Because I was a good fit.
"If that's all, you can go. I'm busy."
She picked up a data report.
I rose, but stopped at the door and turned back. "Two questions. First. Was the school's original plan to send Silas to the frontier, and you changed it to me because you didn't want him to go?"
Her hand paused mid-page. She didn't look up. "I already told you. Sending you is the best decision for the whole group. Nothing more."
"All right. Second question. If everyone in the group except Silas came with me, would you allow it?"
That finally brought her head up. She stared at me for a good ten seconds or more, then laughed.
It was the kind of laugh people give when they think you've said something absurd.
"Andrew, confidence is good. But don't let it turn into delusion."
"The school's minimum requirement is one person from each supervisor's research group. As long as they apply, the school won't refuse. But I can't think of a single reason the others would go with you."
"They can stay in the lab, keep running their projects, keep publishing papers. Their bonuses won't shrink, their opportunities won't shrink. Going to the frontier with you gains them nothing."
"Yes, you carried them through a lot of projects. And I'm sure they're grateful. But Andrew, grown-ups weigh costs and benefits. No one throws away the consequences on a hot-headed impulse just because they feel grateful."
"You're not a child anymore. Grow up a little, would you?"
I looked at her.
And all at once the face I had loved for three years felt like a complete stranger's.
Grown-ups weigh costs and benefits.
So sending me to the frontier and keeping Silas was to her benefit. And the reverse, keeping me and sending Silas, would have been to her detriment.
So that was it.
Looking back over the past three years, I finally understood one thing.
She married me not because she loved me, but because I brought her benefit.
When her research group was first set up, funding was short and the equipment was old. It was me holed up in that lab day after day, finishing one project after another, publishing one paper after another, and putting her name down as first author.
It was me who burned through three years, over a thousand grinding days and nights, so that her group could stand where it did today, flush with funding and brand-new equipment.
And my reward was to be shipped off to the frontier.
"Heh."
The laugh slipped out of me.
Part of it mocked Winona's cold calculation, and part of it mocked my own stupidity, that it had taken me three years to see one person clearly.
"What are you laughing at?" Winona set the report down and frowned at me.
"Nothing. I just worked something out. My head's finally clear."
With that, I turned to leave.
"Wait."
She stood, came around the desk to stand in front of me, and reached up to fix my folded-over collar.
"Don't stay late in the lab tonight. Come home early. I'll make your favorite dishes."
"A candlelit dinner?" I caught her hand and gently lifted it away from my collar, smiling. "Is this my compensation?"
She looked at me, puzzled. "Andrew, you feel different today. You used to—"
I cut her off. "It's been three years, after all. Feelings fade. Of course there's none of the passion we had when we first married."
And with that, I pulled the door open and walked out.
