Althea sat cross‑legged on the carpet in front of the coffee table, folding a small mountain of laundry. She had a drama playing on her tablet, half‑paying attention, more absorbed in figuring out which socks belonged to which drawer.
Life had been quiet lately, almost too quiet. For someone who'd grown up in a house where silence meant something bad was coming, the stillness of this home felt like an adjustment she hadn't fully made yet. Growing up, silence usually meant something bad was coming; a door slam, an argument, footsteps on the stairs that made her tense before they reached her room. Here, the silence was harmless. She was still learning how to trust that.
The front door clicked open. Althea didn't even glance up at first. "You're home early," she said, reaching for another towel to fold.
There was a pause, and then a low hum of amusement. "I didn't expect that to be my welcome."
Something in his tone made her look over her shoulder. Max was standing in the doorway, shoes still on, tie a little loose. And he was… smiling.
Althea blinked, hands pausing mid‑fold. "You... look happy."
"I am." He stepped inside. "Very."
"Okay… what happened? Did you win the lottery?"
"Better." He crossed the room in a few long strides, setting a paper shopping bag on the coffee table, right between her piles of socks. "Had a board meeting today. They approved my branch strategy proposal."
Althea brightened immediately. "Seriously?"
He nodded, and for once, there wasn't a hint of cynicism on his face. "Unanimous approval. Even the CFO complimented it. And now…" He leaned in, almost boyishly conspiratorial. "They're throwing me a party. Tomorrow night."
"A party?"
"Mm‑hmm. A small one. Just colleagues and a few board members. But… they're calling it a 'congratulations reception.'" He laughed a little. "Feels silly, but… I'm not going to lie. It feels good."
Althea's heart lifted with his. Without thinking, she reached across the coffee table and grabbed his hand in both of hers.
"That's amazing, Max! I'm so proud of you."
Max froze for half a second, like someone had pressed pause on him. Her hands were small against his, warm and soft, and the gesture hit him harder than it should have.
She didn't even notice. She just squeezed his hand, eyes bright, her smile unguarded.
"I mean, all those nights you were glued to your laptop, half the time I thought you were just avoiding sleep, but now I get it. It was worth it!"
Max cleared his throat, trying to collect himself, but his ears had already gone faintly pink. "Uh… yeah. I guess so."
"You guess so?" she said, laughing. "Unanimous approval and a party? You should be floating right now."
He tried to smile, tried to meet her enthusiasm, but he couldn't quite hide the quiet shyness that crept into his posture. He ducked his head a little, free hand fussing with his loosened tie. The warmth of her fingers had thrown him off balance in a way no boardroom ever could.
When she finally let go to peek at the shopping bag, he subtly flexed his hand once under the table, like he wasn't sure what to do with the leftover heat.
"You got something?" she asked, noticing the bag.
"Mm. Open it."
Althea reached for it and pulled out a bundle of plum chiffon wrapped in tissue. Her eyebrows lifted. "…Is this…?"
"A dress." He grinned.
"You bought me a dress?"
"Yes. For tomorrow."
"You really think I'm going?"
"You are." He leaned back, eyes glinting. "Even if this marriage feels like a… private game to us, to my colleagues and the media, we're still a married couple. If you don't come, people will start speculating. And paparazzi..."
Althea unfolded the dress fully. The plum fabric draped over her hands, elegant and soft, with a gentle sheen under the warm living room lights.
"…This is beautiful," she admitted.
"I knew you'd like it."
"You didn't have to—"
"I wanted to." His voice softened, and the shy pink in his ears still lingered.
Althea smiled, a small flutter rising in her chest. "You even guessed my size?"
He smirked faintly. "I pay attention."
She rolled her eyes, but it didn't hide the warmth in her cheeks. "Show‑off."
Althea smiled, a small flutter rising in her chest. She didn't notice the way he glanced away for a second, collecting himself.
The rest of the night flowed softly, warm. Althea eventually retreated to her room with the dress, her eyes flicking to the vanity where divorce papers sat scattered like storm clouds.
The air felt heavier. She set it gently on the bed and turned toward the vanity. The lamp cast a pool of light over the papers. Draft contracts, lawyer letters, red‑penned notes in her handwriting. Words like division of assets, residency, and mutual consent stared back at her.
Her fingers brushed over the chiffon of the dress.
She thought about Max's shy smile. The warmth of his hand. The way his voice softened when he said, I wanted to.
For a brief moment, she imagined tomorrow night. Walking into that office reception on his arm, people smiling, cameras maybe snapping a photo or two. Everyone would see them as the perfect married couple. And maybe, for an hour or two, she could almost believe it herself.
Plum chiffon. Laughter in the living room. And a hand she hadn't even realized she'd grabbed, still making him feel something he couldn't name.
She exhaled softly and let herself smile, just a little, before turning off the lamp.
End of Chapter 42.