Harry stood tall in a suit from this season's new collection.

Cicely, cheeks flushed, was nestled against his chest.

They smiled at each other, the air between them thick with intimacy.

"Mr. Dickerson, what brings you here..."

A sales clerk recognized me, her voice cutting through the moment.

It wasn't loud, but it was enough. Cicely and Harry both heard.

They pulled apart quickly, turning to look at me.

Anger flashed across Cicely's face. She strode toward me, her voice sharp.

"Morton, what are you doing here? Were you following me? How pathetic can you be?"

I looked at her calmly, then at Harry standing behind her.

Harry's height. His waist and shoulder measurements...

I let out a quiet laugh. So that's what happened. They'd mixed up my measurements with Harry's. No wonder the suit I'd picked up didn't fit.

"I wasn't following anyone. The suit you ordered came in, but it's not my size. I'm here to return it."

I held up the garment bag and waved it in front of her.

"I'll leave it here. I have other things to do, so I'll get out of your way."

I turned to leave.

Cicely's face twisted through a dozen emotions. Her beautiful eyes burned with anger.

"Morton, don't push it! There's nothing going on between me and Harry. Don't project your dirty thoughts onto us!"

I shrugged with a faint smile.

"I wasn't thinking anything. No need to get upset."

With that, I walked out.

I realized I might actually be making progress. Seeing Cicely and Harry together like that—it didn't hurt as much as it used to.

That night, after Cicely came home and showered, she did something she hadn't done in a long time.

She walked into my room.

She wore a thin nightgown that traced every curve of her body. Her dark, wavy hair spilled over her shoulders, and she smelled like the perfume I loved.

She climbed onto the bed and wrapped her arms around me from behind.

"Morton... don't misunderstand what happened these past few days. There's really nothing between me and Harry. He's just talented at work, and I want to nurture that potential. I know I've been neglecting you lately. It's been so long since we... Morton, turn around. Hold me."

Her voice was soft, almost sweet. I felt my resolve waver.

Her hand moved over me.

The truth was, I still loved her. That hadn't changed.

During those long, gray years when my hearing loss isolated me from the world, she had been the only light. She gave me warmth. She gave me love. The decade we'd spent together meant everything to me.

I didn't want to hold back anymore.

I turned and pulled her close, kissing her with a hunger I'd kept buried.

She let me, accepting the flood of emotion. I reached for my hearing aid, ready to take it off so we could go further.

Then her phone rang.

A cold feeling settled in my chest.

She answered. A few brief words, and then she shoved me away, sitting up in a panic.

"Morton, Harry has a fever. He's really not feeling well. I need to go check on him!"

She slipped on her shoes and rushed out without a second glance.

The door opened and closed. Silence returned.

I sat alone on the bed, feeling the last traces of her presence fade from the air.

My phone buzzed. A message from Harry.

[Hey Morton, I'm feeling a bit under the weather. Asked Cicely to come check on me. Don't be mad, okay!]

I stared at the screen, expressionless.

Then I laughed. No sound came out.

Harry had won.

Cicely didn't come home until the next morning.

She offered an apologetic explanation, but I just nodded, not really taking it to heart.

I packed up all my belongings and booked a flight for the next day to the city where Samuel was based.

Then I went to the office to wrap up the final details of my project and submitted my resignation.

I took a cab to the cemetery and sat quietly by my grandmother's grave for the entire afternoon.

I was about to leave this city, yet my heart felt strangely calm—not a trace of reluctance.

Maybe I'd been hurt enough that I'd gone numb.

I leaned against the headstone, talking to Grandma about nothing in particular, watching the clouds drift and reshape themselves overhead.

I didn't head home until the sky had gone completely dark.

When I opened the door, the house was unexpectedly lively.

Balloons everywhere. Flowers and gift boxes scattered around. A banner on the wall read "Happy Birthday."

I stood there, confused.

"Morton! You're back!" Harry appeared with a grin. "It's my birthday today. Cicely said the house was big enough to throw a party here!"

He smiled at me, but his eyes slid toward the dining table.

I followed his gaze. The table was covered with dishes.

"Cicely said she wanted to show off her cooking skills for me. She made all of this herself. She's so beautiful and kind—I really envy you!"

His words dripped with self-satisfaction, barely concealing how pleased he was that Cicely had gone to all this trouble for him.

I forced a thin smile, completely uninterested in his games, and turned to head to my room.

Then my eyes caught something in the corner, and I froze.

Harry noticed my reaction and laughed right in my ear, not bothering to hide his amusement.

"Oh, that? I accidentally knocked it over while we were decorating. Cicely said it was no big deal—she'd just sweep it up and throw it away later. Sorry, Morton, I'm so clumsy. Don't hold it against me, okay?"

On the floor lay my grandmother's portrait—the one I'd carefully framed myself. Now it was shattered into pieces.

And on her smiling face in the photograph, there were unmistakable black footprints.

The carelessness in his voice made my blood boil. I couldn't hold back anymore. I spun around and slammed my fist into his face.

My mind went blank. Pure rage took over.

A faint smirk flickered at the corner of Harry's mouth before he started yelling.

My fists rained down on him. He let out heavy grunts with each blow.

"Morton! What are you doing? Stop it!"

Cicely rushed out of the kitchen, screaming. She slapped me hard across the face and shoved me away, then helped Harry to his feet.

My eyes were red as I stared at the two of them.

"It's just a photo! Why are you making such a big deal out of it? Look what you did to Harry! You're deaf, so what—you can't stand seeing healthy people? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Cicely screamed at me, then helped Harry limp out the door.

My nose stung. A sharp pain twisted through my chest.

With trembling hands, I carefully gathered the pieces of my grandmother's portrait. I wiped the dirty marks off with my sleeve and placed it gently in my suitcase.

Cicely didn't come home that night.

I didn't sleep either.

Before I left, I took one last look around the house. I set the divorce papers on the table, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out without looking back.

From now on, I would never stand in the way of Cicely and Harry again.