I was rushing to sign a contract when my wife's assistant called, demanding I pick up a coffee and bring it back to the office for him.

I told him I had something urgent to take care of and turned him down.

What I didn't expect was that when I returned to the office with the signed contract in hand, my wife would pick up a cup of coffee and throw it in my face in front of everyone.

"Everard Stephens, you nearly got Edward Delgado killed!"

"He had a blood sugar crash this morning and begged you to bring him a coffee to save his life, and you just left him to suffer."

The coffee soaked through the contract I'd worked so hard to sign. Edward's low blood sugar wasn't going to kill him. But if I hadn't signed that contract and earned my bonus, my mother would die.

I looked up at my wife. Before I could get a word of explanation out, she tore the contract apart in a fit of rage.

"Deal's off. I'm making sure you don't see a cent of that bonus. Consider it a lesson."

Watching the contract I'd nearly killed myself to secure turn into confetti, something inside me went cold. "Marcia Harding, let's get a divorce."

——

Marcia's face froze. Then a wave of fury, sharp and indignant, flooded her expression.

She crumpled what was left of the contract into a ball and hurled it at my face. "Everard, give you an inch and you take a mile."

"Wasn't it you who was in the wrong first?"

My own temper surged, and my voice came out harder than before.

"Wrong? How exactly was I wrong?"

"Do you have any idea what it took to close this deal? I spent days and nights on the edge of collapse, burning through cup after cup of coffee at two in the morning, reworking every flaw. I gave everything to this job. I put your company first in everything I did. I set up the meeting, got the partner to the table, signed the contract, all to boost your numbers."

"And what did you do? You destroyed all of it over some assistant's harmless blood sugar dip. You made sure I can't collect my bonus. My mother is lying in a hospital bed right now, waiting for that bonus to cover her medical bills."

Ever since I married Marcia, her father had insisted we split everything fifty-fifty.

Because I wasn't wealthy. But Marcia was born into money.

Her parents were convinced I was using her to climb the ladder, so to keep me in check, they demanded we keep our finances completely separate.

After my mother got sick, I never touched a dollar of Marcia's money for her treatment.

So I worked twice as hard. Threw myself at every deal I could find.

And the contract I'd nearly worked myself to death to bring home had just been ripped to shreds like it was nothing.

After my voice rang out, every colleague in the room stared at me with a different look in their eyes. Whispers rippled through the office.

"What? Everard's been killing himself at work just to pay for his mother's treatment?"

"If that's true, then what Ms. Harding did is way out of line. He's still her husband. That's her mother-in-law lying in that hospital."

"You guys don't know the half of it. She practically dotes on that little assistant. The two of them even share a couch to nap on sometimes."

"Shh, keep your voice down."

The more Marcia heard, the angrier she got. Her delicate face darkened like a storm rolling in.

She was convinced I'd done this on purpose, played the victim to turn our coworkers against Edward.

Because the moment Edward heard those whispers, he hunched over and bowed to me, guilt and shame written all over him. His pitiful, wounded expression made it look like I was some kind of monster.

"I'm so sorry, Everard. I didn't mean to have a blood sugar crash right then. If I'd known you had something important to handle, I never would've asked you to get me that coffee."

The second the words left his mouth, he turned and ran, looking devastated. He didn't watch where he was going and tumbled down the stairs.

Marcia screamed. Then she whipped around and slapped me across the face.

"Everard, I never thought a grown man like you could be this manipulative. Your mother has a common illness. It's nowhere near as serious as you're making it sound."

"You're doing this on purpose. Playing the victim for sympathy."

"Since you love playing the victim so much, I'll give you what you deserve. Effective immediately, you're demoted."

The moment Marcia finished snapping at me, she spun on her heel and left without a backward glance. She walked fast, as if every second away from Edward put him in mortal danger.

I raised my hand and touched the spot where she'd struck me. A thin line of blood welled up where her freshly manicured nails had broken the skin.

They always said it on TV, and now I knew it was true. Even the deepest love couldn't withstand the grinding of time. Sooner or later, two people who once adored each other could look at one another and feel nothing but disgust.

The whispers around the office came in waves.

"He's got it rough. Married into a rich family, and even if he never intended to climb the social ladder, the world slapped that label on him anyway."

"What Ms. Harding did was cold-blooded. An employee who works himself to the bone can't compete with some guy who knows how to bat his eyes and play helpless."

"All over a cup of coffee. She shredded the contract he busted his back to land, and then demoted him on top of it."

"If I were him, I'd divorce her too."

Hearing the gossip, I felt none of the old frustration, none of the familiar ache.

Because I was done with Marcia. The divorce I'd demanded wasn't a bluff.

I slipped out quietly through the tide of murmurs.

Carl Fox, the closest thing I had to a real friend here, stepped forward and slung an arm around my shoulder. "Hey, man. You okay?"

"Let's just walk out together. We don't have to take this crap."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Walk out? You?"

"You've got your parents to take care of and kids to feed. Jobs aren't exactly falling from the sky right now. Stay, keep your head down, and earn your paycheck."

I went back to my office. The second the door clicked shut, my eyes burned red.

I'd only had the promotion for a few days. The chair hadn't even warmed up, and she was already pushing me out.

My mother was lying in a hospital bed. She needed money for treatment. The thought had barely formed when my phone buzzed in my pocket. The screen showed her attending physician's number.

"Mr. Stephens, you need to get to the hospital. Now."

"Your mother is insisting on being discharged. She says she doesn't want to be a burden to you anymore."

I didn't even stop to grab my things. I just ran.

When I pushed open the door to her room, her eyes were swollen and raw from crying. The moment she saw me, she quickly wiped the tears away and forced a smile onto her face.

"There you are, sweetheart."

"Mom's feeling so much better now. I can go home."

"Mom, don't lie to me. Your condition is getting worse. There's no way you can leave the hospital."

"Sweetheart, we have to face reality. Nobody knows my body better than I do."

"Just help me with the discharge paperwork, okay? I want to go home and cook you a proper meal."

"You silly boy. It's your birthday today!"

She reached up and cupped my face, her palm warm against skin hollowed out by too many sleepless nights.

Her eyes went red again.

In the end, I couldn't argue with her. I signed the papers and brought her home.

We stopped at the market on the way, and she and I loaded up on groceries. Half were dishes I loved. The other half were Marcia's favorites.

While she bustled around the kitchen, Mom kept calling Marcia. She'd been discharged today, and it was my birthday. She wanted the three of us to sit down together, like a real family.

But the calls never went through.

On the ninety-ninth attempt, someone finally picked up.

It was Edward.

"Oh, hey! Is that you, Everard?"

"Looking for Marcia? She's curled up on my shoulder, fast asleep. She looked so exhausted, I didn't have the heart to wake her."

My chest seized. Instinctively, I turned to look at my mother.

The phone was still on speaker, so my mother could hear everything.

But she didn't seem to be listening. She just kept smiling, bustling around the kitchen.

I quickly switched off the speaker and told Edward, "Could you please have your assistant pass along a message? When she wakes up, ask her to come home. My mother was discharged from the hospital today, and it's also my birthday. I'm hoping we can all sit down together."

"Sure thing, buddy. I'll definitely let her know."

He put a strange emphasis on the word definitely, almost giddy about it.

I didn't press him on why they'd been sleeping near each other. All I wanted was for Marcia to come home and spend some time with my mother. Just talk to her. Make her happy.

But after the food was ready, Marcia still hadn't come back.

My mother and I sat at the dining table and waited. One hour passed. Then another.

When the dishes went cold, my mother carried them back to the kitchen and steamed them hot again.

We waited deep into the night. The figure we kept hoping would appear in the doorway never came. Her phone was off. Our messages went unanswered.

"Mom, let's just eat."

"We don't need to wait anymore."

This time, she didn't argue.

"Alright. Let's eat."

She still wore that gentle smile, piling food onto my plate without stopping. I didn't know why, but a heavy sense of dread settled in my chest. My left eyelid wouldn't stop twitching.

Later that night, my mother pushed open my bedroom door. She was coughing as she tucked the blanket back around me. "This child. Kicking off his covers in his sleep. How am I supposed to stop worrying about you?"

I wasn't asleep. I hadn't slept at all.

She stood there watching me for a full hour before finally going back to her room.

The next morning, my mother—who had always been an early riser—didn't get up to make breakfast.

My heart lurched, pounding hard, as if I already knew I'd lost the most important thing in the world.

I walked to her room. She was still lying there.

Something felt wrong. I reached out and touched her hand.

The ice-cold skin stabbed into my palm like a blade. My legs buckled beneath me.

"Mom. Wake up."

Her eyes were shut tight, as though they would never open again. Panic tore through me. I pulled her upright, ready to rush her to the hospital, but then I saw the letter she'd left for me.

My dear boy, if you're reading this, your mother is already gone.

Everything between you and Marcia—I knew all of it.

My son, if living like this is too painful, let each other go. Go find your father.

I hope you can forgive me. I've already contacted your dad to come take you home.

Tears blurred my vision. The ink on the letter bled where they fell.

Then I heard noise outside the door.

"Everard, it's already ten o'clock and you haven't made breakfast?"

"Marcia, are you hungry? I can go in and cook something for you."

"See, you always know how to take care of me. Unlike some people who don't have a thoughtful bone in their body."

I set down the letter. I wiped the tears from my face. Then I walked out of the room, my expression carved from stone.

The first thing I saw was Marcia and Edward, their lips inches apart, about to kiss.

"If you two want to swap spit, take it outside. Don't defile my home."

I didn't want my mother's spirit to witness this. I wouldn't let it taint her passage to the next life.

"What the hell is wrong with you this early in the morning?"

Marcia spun around, seething, and grabbed the nearest object she could find to hurl at me.

I sidestepped it.

"Edward had something in his eye. I was just blowing it out for him." She crossed her arms. "Meanwhile, you're completely useless. All you do is throw jealous fits without lifting a finger. Edward and I both have low blood sugar. If we don't eat soon, we'll—"

"You want to eat? You have hands and feet. Use them."

My voice was cold. Colder than it had ever been.

If Marcia had possessed even a shred of decency, she would have come home yesterday to share that meal with us.

My mother was dead.

There was no reason left to tell her.