She Planted Cabbages to Signal Her Lover,So I Signed the Divorce Papers

She said sorry for the trouble. I said no trouble at all. One thing led to another, and we got close.

When she smiled, her eyes curved into little crescents. She spoke softly, gently. She was the kind of girl who made you want to protect her.

I fell hard.

After graduation, I stayed in Riverport for her. She landed a government position in the city.

By our third year together, I'd bought us a place. I got down on one knee.

She cried and said yes.

On our wedding day, Rufus Gilbert stood right beside me as my best man.

Crisp suit, handing me the ring.

He was my childhood friend. We'd grown up together, tearing through the same neighborhood since before we could tie our own shoes.

He'd started working two years before me. When I was scraping together the down payment on the house, he lent me fifty thousand dollars without blinking.

At the reception, he raised his glass and said, "Brother, Marjorie's a good woman. You better treat her right."

I had my arm around Marjorie. "You know I will."

He grinned. A wide, genuine grin.

Back then, I never could have imagined that Rufus Gilbert's name would reenter my life the way it did.

I replayed that message in my head over and over, countless times.

"Hey sis, whenever Edmund's away on a trip, just plant a couple cabbages in FarmVille. I'll see it and come over."

Planting cabbages. A coded signal.

Every time I left on a business trip, she'd plant cabbages in the game, and he'd see them and come over.

Come over to do what?

I didn't want to think about it. My brain didn't listen.

Every single time I'd dragged my suitcase to the door and said Babe, I'm heading out, she'd wave from the doorway and tell me to come home soon.

Then she'd turn around, open the computer, plant two cabbages in that virtual little field, and signal my best friend.

Coast is clear.

Maybe in the bed I slept in.

Maybe under the comforter I'd paid for.

The more I thought, the worse it hurt.

My fists clenched until my nails bit into my palms.

By the time the sky began to lighten, I'd made a decision.

I carefully lifted her hand off my chest and slid out of bed.

She rolled over, mumbled something unintelligible, and drifted back to sleep.

I picked up my phone and pretended to answer a call.

"Hello, Mr. Wang?"

"Something came up and I need to head back today to handle it, that right?"

"Sure, no problem. I'll call you when I get in."

I kept my voice low on purpose, but clear enough to carry.

I hung up and started packing.

Quiet movements, but enough noise to wake a light sleeper.

Marjorie sat up rubbing her eyes, hair tousled, one strap of her nightgown slipping off her shoulder.

She watched me stuff clothes into my bag, disappointment settling across her face.

"Another emergency trip?"

"Client's got an issue. I need to go back and sort it out."

I coiled the charging cable and tucked it into the side pocket.

She sighed and said she'd been planning to take me to a movie today. She'd already bought the tickets. Now they'd go to waste.

She pouted as she said it, that particular brand of wifely complaint, half whine, half flirtation. Perfectly calibrated. Not too much, not too little.

She kicked off the covers, padded barefoot over to me, and straightened my collar. Then she unpacked my overstuffed bag and reorganized it properly.

She did it all with quiet focus, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Honey, at least eat breakfast before you go?"

"No time. The train won't wait."

She didn't push it.

At the door, she rose on her tiptoes, one hand curling around the back of my neck, and pressed her lips to mine.

A deep kiss.

Her lips were still soft, carrying that particular warmth of early morning.

She kissed me like she meant it, the tip of her tongue tracing the outline of my lips, slow and deliberate, like she was completing some kind of ritual.