My Wife Wanted More Love, Chased It, Now Regrets Madly

The year after I pulled Mavis Harding out of that fire, she gave me a pair of earrings and put them in herself.

I couldn't stop touching them. For once I was in the mood to take a selfie.

Mavis watched me edit the photo, then said, offhand, Doesn't it get boring? Lying to yourself like this.

My hands went still.

She pointed at the smoothed-over version of me on the screen.

"The scars. The skin grafts. That bald patch the fire left on top of your head."

"That stiff face of yours, no matter how much you touch it up, still won't come out as good as that boy's photo does straight off the camera."

I gripped the phone.

I thought of the strange lighter I'd found in her coat pocket last night while doing laundry.

Last week she said she was working late. I went to the office to bring her soup, and the front desk told me she'd left at six.

Last month, when she was late to my follow-up at the plastic surgery clinic and came rushing in, there was that faint trace of cigarette smoke on her collar.

So it wasn't all in my head.

I closed the editing app. My voice stayed level.

"Who's the boy?"

She blinked, then let out a small laugh.

"I'll never say the fire cooked your brain again. You're still this sharp."

"He's an intern at the company."

"He's a sensitive kid, so don't go making trouble for him."

Her fingertip brushed the earring on my earlobe.

"As long as you behave, the position of my husband will only ever be yours."

I touched the edge of the graft on my neck, still not fully healed, and lowered my eyes.

"I understand."

...

I took the earrings off and dropped them into the bottom of the drawer.

Just like that, I didn't like them so much anymore.

Mavis went quiet for a second, then a soft laugh drifted through the bedroom.

"Are you upset? Because I said you're not good-looking?"

"I was only telling the truth. If you finished editing and saw how far off it was from the real you, you'd feel even worse."

"As for that boy, don't worry. In my heart you'll always come first."

"Let's sleep." I switched off the light and lay down.

She turned it back on, exasperated. "Frank Swanson, get up and put your ointment on before you sleep."

I pulled the blanket over my head.

She sighed, and in the end she lay back down.

Tears soaked into the pillow soon enough, and my eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

The next thing I knew, the graft on my right cheek was itching so deep it went straight to the bone.

I didn't dare scratch. I could only press my palm against it, my breathing turning quick and shallow.

Mavis woke to the noise and sat up at once, reaching for the repair cream on the nightstand out of pure habit.

"I told you to put the ointment on and you wouldn't listen. Now it's itching again."

Her head was down, her voice still rough with sleep, but her fingertips spread the cream so gently.

"You just had your last burn-repair surgery. The doctor said over and over that you have to be serious about the ointment. No more sulking after this."

The cool cream moved over the rough skin, and the itch slowly eased.

I looked at her lowered brow and lashes, and my throat tightened.

"If he got hurt for you too, would you be this good to him?"

Her hand paused. Her voice came low.

"Don't read into it. I'll never give him the chance to protect me."

She pressed a silicone scar sheet over the graft to keep it from thickening.

Then she patted my shoulder. "Sleep."

When I woke the next day, Mavis had already left for the office.

On the table, as always, was the nutritious breakfast she'd made.

I bit into a piece of French toast. It tasted like nothing.

I opened my phone and messaged Ray Walker, one of the company's employees.

What's the deal with that intern of Mavis's?

He came back with an exclamation mark.

Frank, if you hadn't asked, I was about to come find you myself.

It turned out Mavis and that intern were already an open secret at the company.

In meetings, he'd tuck the loose strands of hair behind her ear as if no one else was in the room.

At lunch, she'd keep him in her office to eat with her, and through the half-open door people could see her let him feed her, doting on him as she ate.

At company drinks, she'd take his rounds for him, laughing as she covered for him. "He just graduated, don't give the kid a hard time. You want a drink, come to me."

I listened to one long voice message after another, and my heart slowly went cold.

The last thing he sent was a photo.

A full set of custom men's jewelry.

Brooch, necklace, bracelet, ring, earrings, the whole set matched, the cold metal sheen sharp and expensive.

Yesterday was his birthday. Ms. Harding threw him a party at the office and gave it to him in front of everyone.

I stared at the picture for a long time.

I got up, went back to the bedroom, and dug out the earrings she'd given me the day before.

Same design style. Same faceting.

Only mine were thinner, the shine duller.

So she hadn't suddenly given me earrings to celebrate the end of my last repair surgery.

She'd given him a whole set of expensive jewelry, then pulled a free promo pair off it and tossed them my way like a handout.

Frank, come by the office. The old-timers here miss you too.

I closed the chat and opened the front camera.

The face inside it had been through several rounds of repair, but the skin tone was uneven, the graft borders winding and irregular, and when I smiled the right corner of my mouth wouldn't pull up.

A very unfamiliar face.

Two years ago, Mavis and I were at the mall when the fire broke out. I threw everything I had into getting her out, and ended up in the ICU with severe burns.

After that, for a long time I couldn't stand to think about how I looked.

Even at home I wore long sleeves and long pants every day, hiding those ugly scars.

Every mirror in the house was put away. I wouldn't give myself a single glance.

Whenever it broke me, Mavis would hold me and comfort me in a soft voice:

"Your injuries are because of me. No matter what you become, in my eyes you're just as good-looking."

In the span of a few short months, her verdict on me had turned into "a stiff face" with "scars, skin grafts, and a bald patch the fire left on top of my head."

I dug out a dusty mirror from a corner, and the concealer with it.

Half an hour later, I'd covered the flaws, and looking in the mirror, I lifted the corners of my mouth a little, as if I'd caught sight of the person I used to be.

I left the apartment and took a cab to the office.

On the way, I sent a message to a lawyer.

"May I ask what I need to prepare for a divorce?"

The reply came:

"If the other party is at fault, I'd advise you not to tip them off. Quietly hold on to the relevant evidence."

I carried the afternoon drinks into the office.

The veteran employees spotted me and crowded around, all smiles.

I'd built this company alongside Mavis Harding from nothing.

From a single rented office to the whole building we owned now, I'd poured in as much as anyone.

Then came two long years of recovery, and I slowly stepped back from management. But the bond with the old staff was still there.

Ray, my inside man, jerked his chin toward the CEO's office.

I understood at once. I passed out the drinks, told everyone to get back to work, and pushed the door open myself.

The first thing I saw was Mavis sitting at her desk.

A boy with clean, delicate features was leaning in close, his lips almost touching her ear.

I stood in the doorway for a few seconds.

Neither of them noticed. They held that pose, heads bent together, like no one else existed.

I knocked on the door.

They both looked up at once.

When Mavis saw me with makeup on, something bright flickered in her eyes, and then her expression shifted.

The boy just kept that intimate posture, looking confused.

"And you are?"

My voice was even. "I remember you. Neil Dickerson."

Five months ago, right after my second reconstructive surgery, I'd come to the office to find her.

In the stairwell I ran into him, staring blankly at a rsum for our company.

I asked what was wrong. He said he'd applied three times and been turned down every time, the reason being that they "weren't hiring male assistants."

I looked over his rsum and went to convince Mavis to keep him myself.

Her pen didn't pause as she signed.

"No. After the burns you're already insecure. I don't want you overthinking things."

Warmth spread through my chest. "It's enough that you feel that way. I won't read into it."

"He really does meet the requirements. Don't give the company something to be criticized over because of this."

Only then did she give a reluctant nod.

Five months later, the same Mavis who'd said she didn't want me overthinking was now so close to the boy I'd personally placed in the company that their breath seemed to tangle together.

Neil froze, then quickly straightened and put distance between himself and Mavis. "It's you."

His eyes settled on my face. "You've recovered... pretty well."

Mavis's voice was cold. "What are you here for?"

Seeing the wariness at the bottom of her eyes, something in my chest went sharp with pain.

"I went out for some air. Thought I'd drop off some drinks on the way."

I tugged at the corner of my mouth and set the drinks on the desk.

"I'm about to head out. I won't keep you two."

Her expression eased. She stood. "I'll walk you down."

While we waited for the elevator, she looped her arm through mine, close and affectionate.

"You didn't make a scene just now. You did well."

"Have you finally come around? Starting to carry yourself like the real wife."

My fingertips curled, but I still couldn't help asking:

"Why did you cheat? Why him?"

She paused slightly, her fingertips brushing my cheek.

"Frank, I'm a normal woman. I have needs like anyone else."

"You don't have the confidence to touch me, and I don't want to force you."

"Be good. It's all just a fling. You're the one who picked him, so I didn't resist as much."

The elevator gave a chime. It had arrived.

I closed my eyes for a moment. "No need to see me off. I'll go down on my own."

I stepped in and watched her turn and hurry off, her figure disappearing beyond the doors.

The elevator dropped to the first floor.

I didn't step out. I pressed the button for the CEO's floor again.

The instant the elevator doors slid open, I saw Mavis pull Neil into the stairwell.

I opened the camera on my phone and slipped it toward the gap in the door she'd shut too fast to close all the way.

The boy's voice cracked. "Ms. Harding, is he here to stake his claim?"

Mavis brushed the pad of her finger lightly across the corner of his eye and gave a soft laugh.

"What are you talking about? The claim was always his."

"But he's already accepted that you exist. Don't worry so much."

Neil's voice dropped low.

"Once his face heals, are you going to stop wanting me?"

She twirled the button on his collar between her fingers. "Why waste time worrying about something that hasn't even happened."

The boy bowed his head, tears falling one after another.

"All right, all right. I never said I'd stop wanting you."

She sighed, wrapped her arms around his waist, and murmured to soothe him.

Listening to her gentle voice through the door, I reached up and wiped the wet from the corner of my eye.

I put the phone away, turned, and stepped into the elevator.

It was already eleven at night when Mavis got home.

The lights came on, and there I was, sitting dazed on the couch.

She crossed to me and crouched down to look at me.

"Why are you sitting in the dark? Have you eaten?"

My eyes drifted slowly to her face.

"No."

"The moment I'm not around, you stop taking care of yourself."

Her tone was exasperated as she shook the box in her hand.

"I brought cake home. Come eat."

The concern in her eyes didn't look fake, and still I only shook my head.

"I don't want someone else's leftovers."

Half an hour earlier, Ray had sent me a video and a screenshot.

The cake shop downstairs from the office. Mavis feeding a dessert into Neil's mouth.

The boy's eyes were still red, but a smile lingered at the corner of his lips.

The screenshot was a post he'd put up.

Someone who loves you won't let your bad mood carry over into the night.

Four photos beneath it.

One selfie of him flashing a peace sign at the camera.

One staged shot of the dessert.

One from an amusement park.

One candid of Mavis carrying several shopping bags.

She'd stayed with him, coaxed him, all the way into the small hours.

And handed me a cake with its cream caved in.

"What are you throwing a fit about, out of nowhere?"

"Fine, don't eat it. Put your ointment on yourself and go to bed."

Her voice went cold. She dropped a tube of ointment and went into the bathroom.

"Oh, and stay away from the office from now on. Neil's young, he reads too much into things."

I watched the bathroom door close and let out a bitter laugh.

A legally wedded husband with a ruined face, and the lover who was at her side day after day. Which one of them was really more likely to read too much into things.

After that day, I didn't go back to the office.

But Ray's photos and videos never stopped.

She brought him to all kinds of business dinners, made him a permanent hire ahead of schedule, gave him an office of his own.

The old-timers had seen it all before. The newer staff were talking.

Ray said that ever since I'd shown up at the office that day, the coworkers who hadn't known filled in the blanks about me and Mavis, learned where the scars on my body came from, and started looking at Neil differently.

The gossip kept building.

Until today, when a few of them were in the break room talking about that jewelry set, and Neil happened to come around the corner. His eyes went red at once and he dropped his head and hurried off, a few muffled snickers following behind him.

I heard he gave that whole jewelry set back to Ms. Harding, untouched.

I didn't say anything about it.

What did giving it back change?

The Mavis who used to share her location wherever she went, who only ever wanted me to come get her when she was drunk, was never coming back.

She came home from work that evening with a dark look on her face.

"Frank Swanson, didn't I tell you to leave him alone? And yet you went and got the whole office to freeze Neil out."

I stared at her, dazed. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play innocent. He gave back everything I gave him, so upset he won't say a word."

Her voice sank, edged with a faint, particular disappointment.

"Frank, I thought you were different from those jealous men."

"He just graduated. He came to this city alone with nothing, fighting to make it."

"And you don't have to work, you never want for anything. Can't you give a little ground? What do you get out of bullying someone weaker than you?"

I laughed, absurdly.

She'd told me herself it was just a fling with him. Now she'd already started aching for him.