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

Rufus was leaning against a nearby rack, hands shoved in his pockets, head tilted to one side.

"Gorgeous. You look gorgeous in everything."

She handed the clothes to the salesgirl and said she'd take both.

Rufus pulled out his phone and scanned the code to pay. Not a second of hesitation.

She smiled, tilting her face up to look at him. There was something in her eyes.

Something that looked a lot like devotion.

I watched from several counters away, and the pain flared again.

Not the sharp kind. A dull ache. Like someone punching me in the chest, slow and steady, over and over.

In all our years of marriage, the number of times we'd gone shopping together could be counted on one hand. Every time I offered to take her, she'd wave me off. Shopping is exhausting. Isn't it nicer to just stay home?

I'd always wanted us to catch a movie together, but she'd say theaters were too loud, that watching on the projector at home was the same thing. So I bought a projector. Then she said she was tired, said maybe another day.

Another day became another week, became never.

I'd always believed she genuinely didn't enjoy shopping. Didn't enjoy movies.

Now I knew.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy them.

She just didn't enjoy them with me.

They left the mall and headed to a steakhouse on the third floor.

I stood in the fire escape at the end of the corridor, watching through the small window in the door.

They sat by the window. Rufus ordered two steaks and a bottle of red wine. When Marjorie cut into her steak, she sliced off a piece and lifted her fork to his lips.

Rufus opened his mouth and took it. He chewed slowly, watching her with a gaze so tender it practically melted.

Then he raised his wine glass and clinked it against hers.

They looked at each other across the table and smiled.

When Marjorie smiled, she tilted her head slightly, and a strand of hair slipped from her shoulder. She reached up with her free hand and tucked it behind her ear.

The motion was slow. Effortless.

And impossibly alluring.

I hadn't seen her do that since we were dating.

Halfway through the meal, Rufus set down his knife and fork.

"Marjorie, how come Edmund's away on business again?"

She laughed, picked up her napkin, dabbed the corner of her mouth, and turned the question back on him.

"Isn't it a good thing he's away?"

Her tone was light, casual, like she was talking about the weather.

Rufus stood up, walked around the table, and sat down beside her. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, leaned in, and kissed her on the lips.

The kiss wasn't deep, but it lingered.

"Of course it's a good thing. I wish he traveled every single day. Better yet, a whole year straight."

He paused, then kissed her again.

"That way we could be together every day."

Marjorie didn't push him away. She leaned into him instead, resting her head on his shoulder, one hand settling on his thigh.

The expression on her face was perfectly clear from where I stood.

Contentment.

The kind that comes from being loved. From being wanted.

After dinner, they went downstairs and got in the car.

I hailed another cab and followed.

The car finally stopped in front of a hotel. Not some budget chain. A high-end business hotel.

The two of them walked into the lobby hand in hand.

I trailed behind, watching through the glass of the revolving door as they approached the front desk. Rufus pulled out his ID. The clerk processed them. The whole thing took less than two minutes.

Smooth. Practiced.

Then they turned and walked toward the elevator.

I stood where I was, staring at the motionless floor number above the elevator doors, and I stood there for a long time.

People passed through the lobby around me. Someone glanced my way, but nobody cared who I was.

I walked to the lounge area and sank into one of the sofas.