After a company intern reported me, my wife said he was just being naive. “Sir, we’re going to need to open your suitcase for inspection.” The customs officer’s face was grim as he pulled me aside. I froze, watching as they pulled the packet of white powder from a hidden compartment with unnerving precision. Three days later, my wife picked me up from the detention center. “He’s just an intern, he doesn’t know any better,” she said, her tone casual. “Don’t take it personally.” That was the moment I realized. This marriage should have ended a long time ago. 1 The click of the lock turning echoed in the quiet hall as I dragged my exhausted body through the door. The wheels of my suitcase screeched against the polished floor. The living room lights were blinding, making my eyes ache. The moment he saw me, the intern, Jackson, shot up from the sofa. His eyes were red-rimmed, his lip trembling. He was wearing my slippers. The gray cotton ones I’d bought just last month. The sight of them on his feet was a jarring violation. “Mr. Reilly,” he choked out, his voice thick with an emotion that suggested he was the one who had been wronged. “I really didn’t know it was just your sinus medication in the bag.” “I thought it was… something illegal. I didn’t mean to, please don’t be angry.” Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill over. I watched him in silence, saying nothing. My wife, Kendra, walked over and patted Jackson’s shoulder. Her voice was so gentle it felt foreign to me. “It’s alright, Jackson. Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.” She turned to me, a hint of reprimand in her eyes. “Ethan, don’t be so hard on him. Jackson just graduated; he doesn’t have any real-world experience. How was he supposed to know the ins and outs of these things?” I stared at her, my throat tightening. “So you think him reporting me, getting me detained by customs for three days, is just a minor inconvenience?” Kendra frowned. “But you’re out now, aren’t you? Nothing really happened.” Jackson hung his head, his voice a barely audible whisper. “Mr. Reilly, I’m really, truly sorry.” “You seem pretty comfortable in my slippers,” I cut him off, my voice low. Jackson’s head snapped up, his face instantly draining of color. He glanced down at his feet in a panic, stammering, “I-I was just…” I took a step closer, my voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Because you think you can just walk in and out of this house as you please?” Kendra suddenly stepped between us, her tone turning icy. “Ethan, that’s enough! Jackson is here to apologize. What is this attitude?” I looked at her, and a wave of absurdity washed over me. “Kendra,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I want a divorce.” The air froze. Jackson’s eyes widened, his lips trembling even more violently. He stumbled forward, his knees buckling as if he were about to fall to the ground, his voice cracking. “Mr. Reilly, it was all my fault. Don’t blame Kendra.” “I’ll… I’ll get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness, okay? Please, just don’t divorce her.” The way he acted, anyone would think I was the one bullying him. Kendra grabbed his arm, pulling him forcefully to his feet, her voice laced with concern. “Jackson, what are you doing? Stop it!” She whirled on me, her eyes blazing with fury. “Ethan, are you serious? A grown man, being this petty?” A bitter smile touched my lips. I stared at Jackson’s tear-streaked face. “What’s this now? Are we moving on to the tragic melodrama portion of the evening?” My words struck Jackson like a physical blow. He flinched, and the tears fell faster, but he bit his lip and didn’t dare say another word. Kendra’s chest heaved with anger. She pointed a shaking finger at me. “What’s with the sarcasm? Jackson is here to sincerely apologize!” “Do you have any idea what the rumors are at the office because of what happened to you?” “The board of directors is involved! They’re saying a senior executive is suspected of smuggling. Think of how damaging that is!” 2 She grew more agitated as she spoke, her voice rising. “It was me! I was the one who had to go to each of them, explaining, suppressing the story, telling them it was all just a misunderstanding!” “Do you have any idea how much effort that took? And you?” “You come back with this sour face and now you’re threatening me with divorce?” “Ethan, do you have a conscience?!” Her voice was shrill, each word a knife twisting in my gut. But all I could think about was last month, when my stomach ulcer flared up and I was lying alone in a hospital bed on an IV drip. I called her over a dozen times, but she never picked up. I found out later she’d taken Jackson to an industry gala that night, a radiant smile on her face the whole time. My missed calls were brushed aside with a simple, “I didn’t hear it.” And before that, when my dad had a sudden stroke and I spent the entire night waiting outside the operating room, all she did was send a single text: “Something urgent came up at work, can’t get away. Take care of yourself.” I later heard from a colleague what her “urgent business” was. She was helping Jackson work late, and then she personally drove him home. The memories flooded back, a bitter tide rising in my throat. My eyes burned, hot and unwelcome. I clenched my jaw, refusing to show any weakness in front of her. But just then, Jackson dropped to his knees with a thud. Tears streamed down his face, hitting the floor with audible plinks. His voice was a wreck. “It’s all my fault. Mr. Reilly, Kendra, please stop fighting.” “I’ll… I’ll just jump off the balcony right now. You two can just be happy together, okay?” With that, he scrambled to his feet and made a dash for the balcony, acting as if he was about to end it all. Kendra screamed, lunging to grab him. “Jackson! What are you doing?! Don’t do something stupid!” He struggled against her, his cries heartbroken. “Let me go, Kendra! My being alive only makes you two fight! It’ll be better when I’m dead!” She held him tight, roaring at me over her shoulder, “Ethan! Are you satisfied now?! You won’t be happy until you’ve driven an innocent person to their death?!” I stood frozen, watching their tangled struggle. The whole scene was utterly ridiculous. “Go ahead and jump, Jackson. But drop the act. If you had any real guts, you wouldn't have reported me in the first place.” Jackson’s sobs stopped abruptly. He froze mid-struggle. Kendra stared at me in disbelief, her voice trembling. “Ethan, are you even human?!” I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and turned towards the entryway, tossing a final, cold sentence over my shoulder. “The divorce papers will be drawn up. Sign them or don’t. It’s up to you.” The night air was a biting wind against my skin. I stumbled through the doors of a bar, plunging into the noise and chaos. The lights were blinding, the music deafening, but none of it could drown out the roaring in my own head. “Whiskey. Neat,” I rasped, slamming my hand on the bar. My voice was unrecognizable. The bartender shot me a look but didn’t ask questions, just slid a glass over. I tilted my head back, the fiery liquid searing my throat, but it couldn't numb the dull ache in my chest. One glass after another, until my vision blurred and the world began to spin. “Why? Why would she do this to me?” I slumped over the bar, my fingers gripping the glass so tightly my knuckles turned white. Kendra’s face, Jackson’s tears, the image of them tangled together—it all swam before my eyes. I slammed my fist on the table, startling the person next to me. “Wasn’t I good enough to her?! I would have given her my goddamn life!” 3 My voice was raw, but in a crowded bar, no one pays attention to a drunk’s ravings. The bartender pushed another drink towards me. “Sir, you’ve had too much.” “None of your damn business!” I grabbed the glass and downed it. The alcohol churned in my stomach, but my mind was becoming painfully clear. I don’t know how much time passed before I felt hands lifting me up. Through my blurry vision, I saw a pair of slender but strong hands hauling me out by the arm. The next day, I walked into the office with a splitting headache. As I pushed open my office door, I was met with the averted gazes of several colleagues. It seemed the “customs incident” had already made the rounds, though no one dared mention it to my face. My office was separated from Kendra’s by only a hallway, the glass-wall design leaving nothing hidden. I tried to force myself not to look, but my eyes were drawn to her office like a magnet. Jackson stood by her desk, a stack of files in his arms. He was leaning in close, his lips almost touching her ear. Whatever he said made her laugh softly. She even reached up to straighten his crooked tie, a gesture so familiar it looked like it had been performed a thousand times. My knuckles whitened around the pen in my hand. A large black blot of ink spread across the document on my desk. “Mr. Reilly, this contract needs your signature.” My assistant tiptoed in, but my dark expression made her take a step back. “Leave it,” I said without looking up. She put the file down and glanced nervously across the hall, but ultimately decided to keep her mouth shut and left. At noon, I went to the break room for coffee and walked right in on Jackson clinging to Kendra’s arm, whining playfully. “Kendra, that new Japanese place is impossible to get a reservation for.” “But I heard sea urchin is your favorite, so I had a friend pull some strings to hold a table.” Kendra laughed, poking him on the forehead. “You’re such a sweet talker.” They turned and saw me standing in the doorway. The air instantly froze. Jackson let go of her arm as if he’d been electrocuted. “M-Mr. Reilly. I was just, uh, reporting to Director Evans on a project.” I calmly pressed the button on the coffee machine, not even bothering to look at them. “Reporting on a project requires you to be that close? When did the company start offering tango lessons?” Kendra’s face darkened. She pulled Jackson behind her slightly. “Ethan, watch your tone. Jackson is just a bit enthusiastic. Don’t project your own filthy thoughts onto others.” Hot water splashed onto the back of my hand. I barely felt the sting. I let out a small, humorless laugh, picked up my mug, and brushed past them, my voice low. “Director Evans, that mark on your neck… your foundation didn’t quite cover it.” Kendra’s hand flew to her neck, her face turning pale. Jackson, on the other hand, looked like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on, his ears instantly turning a deep shade of red. Back in my office, I locked the door and threw the coffee, mug and all, into the trash. Through the glass wall, I could see Jackson talking to Kendra with red-rimmed eyes, while she gently patted his shoulder. And I, the “petty” husband, was nothing more than the disposable villain in their love story.
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