2: 2

2

I dragged my suitcase home to find Clifford's car parked downstairs and the lights on in the apartment.

I keyed in my fingerprint. Wrong once. Wrong twice.

I was about to try a third time when the door opened.

A head poked out. It was Regina.

She saw it was me, and looked a little startled.

"Valerie... what are you doing here?"

I curved my lips.

"I'm coming home to my own place. Is there a problem with that?"

"Your place?"

She gave a little smile.

"You've got it wrong. This is company housing they gave me. You've been gone so long, maybe you came to the wrong door?"

I pushed the door open and let out a cold laugh.

"I have been gone a long time, but not long enough to forget my own home."

"Should I call the police and have someone come confirm it for you?"

Clifford came out of the bathroom, one hand toweling his hair, the other pulling my suitcase inside.

He saw me. His expression didn't change, and his tone was offhand.

"You've been away these past few years. I've been staying at our marriage home most of the time, and this place was sitting empty."

"Gina had just graduated and had nowhere to stay, so I let her move in."

I walked a circle through the apartment.

Everything I'd carefully arranged before I left had been dumped into the storage room, the kitchenware thrown into the cabinets in a mess.

The coats in the bedroom closet had been stuffed into bags, crushed out of shape.

My father's memorial portrait, which had stood on top of the living room cabinet, had been shoved carelessly into a drawer packed with junk, covered in dust.

I lifted it out gently, wiped it clean with my sleeve, and turned my glare on Regina.

"Why did you touch my father's portrait?"

Regina shrank back, her eyes reddening at once, and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Valerie, I didn't mean to..."

"I live here alone, and every time I walk in I see that portrait. It scares me!"

"Scares you, and you moved in anyway?"

"Enough!"

Clifford cut me off sharply.

"Valerie, it's one photo. Do you have to blow it up into something this big?"

"She's a young girl, she scares easily. So she put it away. What's the harm?"

"One photo?"

I gave a cold laugh, staring at him.

"Say that again while you're looking at my father. I dare you."

He was quiet for a few seconds, then his voice softened.

"All right, don't be angry. I was in the wrong on this."

"I should have told you beforehand."

He reached out to take my hand as he spoke.

"You flew all morning and ran back and forth to the office. You're exhausted. Get some rest first."

"I've already made up the guest room for you."

I froze for a beat, wondering if I'd heard him wrong.

I shook his hand off, and when I spoke my throat was tight.

"You want me to sleep in the guest room?"

There was a trace of impatience in his eyes, but his tone stayed coaxing.

"I'll switch it back myself tomorrow. Just let Gina have it for tonight."

"Clifford! Don't push this too far!"

My chest was heaving.

"This is premarital property my father left me. It has nothing to do with you."

"I won't give it up, and I won't let her keep living here."

I looked up, checked my watch, and turned to Regina.

"It's eight o'clock now. I want you out of my home before nine thirty."

"Otherwise, I'll press charges against you for unlawful occupancy."

"Valerie, so now it's mine and yours between us?"

Clifford threw the towel onto the couch and looked at me coldly.

"For me it's only now. For you it's been all along."

I didn't look at him. I took gloves and a mask out of the drawer and walked into the bedroom.

I threw all of Regina's things out.

Then I hung my own clothes up, one piece at a time.

Regina stood where she was, at a loss.

Not until I threw out the last item did she rush over, scoop it up, and clutch it to her chest, tears falling in big drops.

She looked at me, her whole face wronged.

"Valerie, I know you're angry, but you can't just throw out the keepsake my grandmother left me!"

I watched that pitiful look on her face, wiped my hands with a look of dread.

"You're afraid of my father's portrait, so of course I'm afraid of your grandmother's keepsake too!"

"So there was nothing to do but throw it out."

Regina choked on her words. She stuffed her things back into her suitcase one by one, then sobbed to a grim-faced Clifford.

"Mr. Greer, I'm sorry to have caused you trouble."

"I'll go now."

Thunder crashed, and the rain came pouring down.

Clifford snatched up his car keys and strode for the door.

I watched his back and asked.

"Where are you going?"

He turned around, his eyes full of disappointment.

"When did you get so heartless? You used to worry about stray cats getting hurt on rainy days, didn't you?"

"The storms lately are dangerous. Driving her out this late at night, aren't you afraid something will happen to her?"

I curled up on the couch and nodded.

"You can go."

"But once you walk out that door, don't regret it."

His steps hitched. He didn't look back.

3: 3

3

That night, Clifford didn't come home.

I spent the whole night putting the house back together, piece by piece. When I got to the bathroom, I found more than Regina's tampons in the drawer. Clifford's razor was there too.

On the counter sat two toothbrush cups, the classic pink-and-blue his-and-hers set.

I stared at all of it, and a discomfort crept over me that I couldn't name.

In all the years we dated and were married, he had never once mixed his things in with mine, and he certainly never used matching couple's items with me.

I looked toward the living room. It was as though every corner held traces of a life the two of them had shared.

These past six months, had Regina really been living here alone, or had this been their home together?

The only answer was the rain hammering down outside the window.

I threw everything into a trash bag and put it out.

I disinfected the whole place top to bottom, changed the locks, and only lay down when the sky was starting to lighten.

Early the next morning, I was woken by knocking at the door.

I opened it. It was Clifford.

He was holding a bouquet of flowers and a small cake.

This exact scene had played out years ago.

It left me a little dazed.

Back then, he'd done it to cheer me up.

And now?

He set the flowers and the cake on the table.

"Your favorite bakery. Have a little before you sleep."

I sat down and opened the box.

When I saw the peach pieces on top, I sank back against the chair.

"Clifford, first a peach drink, now a peach cake. Do you not know I'm allergic?"

A flicker of embarrassment crossed his face.

"Sorry... it's been so long since I bought it, I forgot."

"Let me order you delivery."

"No need."

I picked up my laptop and, right in front of him, submitted my rejection of the position-change notice, then sent my resignation letter to his inbox.

"When you have a moment, I'd appreciate it if you'd approve it, Mr. Greer."

His expression darkened.

"Valerie, are you still throwing a fit?"

"If you feel your current position doesn't match your ability, then wait until the spot in Market Management opens up next year."

"But I don't want to wait anymore."

"You're twenty-nine now. In a couple of years we'll be trying for a baby. Do you really think that if you quit now, you'll find a good job out there?"

"Clifford!"

I raised my eyes to him, my voice tight.

"Whether there's a baby is my decision, when I want one. That's not yours to make!"

The year we made it big, I got pregnant by accident.

I waited until the three-month mark, when it was stable, planning to tell him as a surprise.

Instead he held me and told me to get rid of it.

I asked him why, and he said this age was the prime time to push our careers.

Now, after everything it took to get here, he wasn't just tearing down my career. He wanted to shut me up at home.

He froze for a second, his voice going flat.

"If you quit now, your bonus from last quarter at the branch is forfeited. Are you sure you want to resign?"

"I think I've already made myself perfectly clear."

He took out his phone, typed a few lines, and two minutes later the request was approved.

Then he headed for the door.

"Over the next three days, hand off all your project resources and work properly."

"I'd like to see just what you can do once you're out of this company!"

I gave a small hum and didn't look up.

An hour later, the company-wide group chat shared a link to the roadshow livestream.

The camera happened to pan across Clifford's seat. His eyes were on Regina as she spoke on stage, and they were full of softness.

My feed refreshed. Regina had posted. She stood beside the finance mogul, her smile sweet, every strand of her hair catching the light.

【Everything went perfectly! Who knew a workday could mean meeting your idol and getting great photos too! Thank you, Mr. Greer, for your incredible photography skills!】

My heart skipped a beat.

For eight years, one of the things Clifford hated most was taking pictures.

The first time we went out together, I wore a dress I'd saved up a long time to buy, and I coaxed and begged him forever before he agreed to take my photo.

Every single shot came out with me blending into the scenery. When I posted them, people thought it was one of those spot-the-difference games.

After that, I always believed he just couldn't take pictures.

I'd rather use a tripod for a selfie than ask him.

But now, he'd made someone else look so lively and charming.

A line suddenly came back to me.

A camera carries feeling. Someone who loves you will make you look beautiful.

I opened the legal services site and added the most reputable divorce lawyer I could find.

4: 4

4

In the days after, I started handing off the projects and resources I still held, clearing away whatever scraps of work remained.

Dozens of documents a day, running from department to department.

On the last day, I walked into the company and felt every pair of eyes crawl over me, the whispering never stopping.

"That's her. Thinks that because she's an old-timer here, because she pulled off a little something at the branch, she doesn't have to know her place anymore."

"So annoying. Overtime again today."

I had no idea what any of it meant. I'd barely sat down at my desk when Clifford came striding over.

A stack of documents slammed down on my desk, the pages fanning out, one sharp edge slicing my finger.

"Valerie! Look at what you've done!"

"Because of your screwup, the launch date got pushed back a full three days."

"Do you have any idea what that means for the company? Channels, supply chain, the whole PR schedule, all thrown into chaos. Can you afford a loss like that?"

Regina stood beside him, her eyes rimmed red, her whole face pinched with worry.

"Valerie, I know you think I don't deserve this position, so you didn't want to cooperate with me."

"But that's between us. If you're holding a grudge, take it out on me in private. Hit me, curse at me, I'll take it."

"Everyone's been putting in overtime for three whole months on this project. We were finally about to see the results, and you—"

By the end she was nearly in tears.

I drew a slow breath. I didn't rush to defend myself.

I took the flash drive out of my bag and threw the screen recordings of every step of the last three days up onto the big screen.

"Anyone with eyes, open them wide and take a good look."

Then I turned to Regina.

"A project this size, and the most critical milestone got quietly merged onto me? Someone who's about to resign, someone who, strictly speaking, no longer even counts as part of this company, and who wasn't told a thing about it?"

"Is that a reasonable process?"

I paused, and looked at Clifford.

"And let's say I did handle it. Did I even have the access to?"

The whole office went quiet.

Clifford pressed his lips together, his expression cold.

"Even so, you should have flagged it right away!"

"The company deciding not to give you that position was the best call it ever made."

"Someone as irresponsible as you doesn't deserve to stay here."

The words landed on me one after another, and something in my chest shook hard.

I wanted to speak, and found I barely had the strength left to breathe.

All these years I'd worked myself to the bone at that job. When things were hardest for him, I'd handed over the savings my father left me, everything I had, to back his startup.

I listened to him and kept my distance to avoid gossip. I listened to him and went to the branch office.

I even gave up my first child for what he called his prime years to build.

And now he was calling me irresponsible.

He pulled a tissue from the desk and handed it to Regina.

"Mistakes happen. Bring your laptop to my office and we'll go through it."

I looked at his face gone soft, and started to wonder if he was schizophrenic.

To wonder what these past eight years had even been for.

But I didn't want to dig into it anymore.

"Clifford Greer."

He stopped walking and turned his head.

"Valerie, I don't recall the company training telling employees to call their boss by his full name."

"No, it didn't."

I looked at him steadily.

"But this is the first time, and the last."

Then I set my badge on the desk and left without looking back.

Early the next morning, I'd just finished the last round of online interviews. I took out my phone, ready to talk to him about the divorce, when Regina's feed updated.

In the photo she lay on a bed at the wellness clinic, the thin blanket I'd knitted last year draped over her, and he stood there talking to the doctor, his brows drawn tight.

I stared at that photo for a long time, then blocked his number.

Before the plane took off, I turned the divorce over to my lawyer, in full.

From then on, there would never again be any him in my life.