Goodbye, Mr. Regret

The house felt cold and empty.

At least Mabel greeted them, stepping forward to take Timothy's coat and bag, hanging them up with practiced care.

Timothy frowned slightly.

"Where's my wife?"noveldrama

"She's upstairs, in her room."

His brow furrowed deeper. "Has she eaten?"

"Mrs. Carter said she wasn't hungry..."

Timothy didn't hesitate. He went straight upstairs and opened the bedroom door. Jessica sat at her desk, a pair of scissors in hand, focused on cutting out delicate patterns from a piece of paper.

He walked over. Jessica didn't even look up at the sound of his footsteps.

Leaning against the desk, Timothy gazed down at her. "So, you're not making dinner, and you're not eating either?"

Jessica continued snipping the paper, blatantly ignoring him.

A slow burn of frustration flared in Timothy's chest. Lately, everything felt as if it were slipping out of his control.

"Jessica." His voice dropped, shadowed with warning.

Finally, she set the scissors down, picked up a stack of papers from beside her, and handed them to him. It was the divorce agreement.

The words *Divorce Agreement* stared back at him, sharp as a slap. Jessica had already signed her name.

Timothy's grip tightened. He crumpled the papers in his fist and tossed them into the trash.

He cast a cool, sideways glance at Jessica, his tone crisp. "You'd throw away a perfectly good life. What exactly is it you want?"

Jessica replied in sign language, her movements sharp. *What is a 'perfectly good life'?*

She gave a bitter smile and continued, her hands steady. *Tell me, Timothy. Is a 'good life' a husband who's always away on business, who brings another woman to parent-teacher day and lets her play 'Mom'? Or...*

Her gaze flicked to the bare wall where their wedding photo once hung, her hands still moving. *Or is it that you can't even stand to see our wedding photo up?*

Timothy followed her eyes to the empty space on the wall.

He turned his head, meeting Jessica's cool, clear gaze.

For a moment, a faint smile curved Timothy's lips, and his voice softened. "Jealous, are you?"

Jessica froze, caught off guard. Just moments ago, she'd been ready for a fight, expecting their argument to end with him storming out-a perfect prelude to discussing divorce.

But she recovered quickly.

*Don't change the subject,* she signed, her gestures slower now, deliberate.

Timothy paused, then spoke, his voice gentler than before. "I'm the one who took down the photo. You wanted proper wedding pictures, didn't you? I'll arrange it. We'll go together, take as many as you like. Forget about that old photo."

Jessica's face went blank with shock.

He went on, "About the parent-teacher day—your phone was off the whole time. I tried to call you."

Her mind went blank. Timothy almost never spoke to her with this kind of patience. He was actually explaining himself.

That day, when she came home, she'd realized her phone was dead. Had she been overthinking everything?

But then there was Sheila-how tense Timothy's father had been when that woman appeared. And that slip of paper, covered in Sheila's name...

Jessica dropped her gaze, lost in thought. Suddenly, she felt herself lifted off her seat.

Timothy sat down in her chair, settling her gently on his lap.

The gesture was warm, intimate-almost too much. Jessica's cheeks burned.

Timothy wrapped his arms around her, his voice low and rough. "Just trust me, okay?"

She bit her lip, heart pounding.

This was the tenderness she had always longed for his rare, honeyed words, his gentle touch. Every move he made, every soft glance, sent shivers through her chest, setting her heartstrings trembling.