Waiting for a Skyful of Blue Rain

“What are you so nervous about?”

Carolyn’s voice was soft, like a feather settling onto the floor.

Ronald’s brow only furrowed tighter, a flicker of impatience crossing his face. “Carolyn, I should be asking why you came to the company without letting me know.”

His words carried a tone of righteous certainty, as though she were the intruder—the one who didn’t know her place.

The office door swung open again, accompanied by light footsteps and the cloying scent of bubble tea.

“Ronald, I’m back! I brought you bubble tea—half sugar, no ice. Try it…”

Victoria bounced in, holding a cup aloft, a bright smile on her face.

But the moment she spotted Carolyn, that smile froze.

She went straight to Ronald’s side, leaning her whole body against him, and held the cup to his lips. Her voice turned saccharine. “Come on, just a little! I waited in line forever.”

Ronald turned his head slightly away. “I don’t drink that.”

“No, no, no! I bought it just for you! Just one sip, okay? One sip?”

Victoria persisted, tugging at his sleeve, her eyes darting toward Carolyn in clear challenge.

A flicker of conflict passed through Ronald’s eyes.

In the end, he took the cup and forced down a small sip.

Ronald hated sweets.

As a child, when Carolyn offered him her most treasured candies, he’d always shake his head and refuse.

After they married, he never touched the pastries or desserts at home.

He’d once said the sickly-sweet taste made him nauseous.

Yet now, to placate Victoria, he drank what he despised.

So it wasn’t that his principles couldn’t be broken. It was just that she, Carolyn, didn’t have the right to make him break them.

Her own voice came out dry and brittle, threaded with a shattered tremor. “Before, when I came to the company, you only let me into your office. You said it looked bad—that I couldn’t wander around. Why can she follow you to meetings, touch your computer freely, make you… drink something you can’t stand?”

Ronald set the cup down, his expression darkening.

He turned to Victoria, his tone softening just slightly. “Why don’t you go browse the mall downstairs? Buy whatever you like.”

Pulling a black platinum card from his wallet, he handed it to her.

Though visibly reluctant, Victoria took it under his unwavering gaze, pouting, “Then you’d better come find me soon.”

She shot Carolyn one last glance and left, strutting out like a triumphant peacock.

The office door clicked shut again.

Ronald turned back, the impatience on his face barely contained. “Carolyn, you’re overstepping.”

Overstepping?

She looked at him and let out a low, choked laugh, tears spilling uncontrollably.

So caring about her own husband was “overstepping” in his eyes.

“Overstepping…” she repeated the word, tasting its bitterness. “Ronald, I told you. If you met someone you truly loved, tell me. I would let you go.”

Drawing a shaky breath, she made each word deliberate. “Let’s get a divorce.”

The air in the room froze solid.

Ronald’s pupils contracted sharply—a crack finally appearing in his usual mask of composure.

He looked at her, his gaze complex and unreadable.

He was silent for a long, long time. So long that Carolyn thought he wouldn’t speak at all.

Then, finally, he said, “Carolyn, even if we divorce, I’ll still take care of you.”

He paused. “It’s also my promise to your parents.”

Parents…

The word pierced her final defenses like the sharpest arrow.

Images from the horrific car crash two years ago flooded her mind unbidden—her parents’ smiles and voices, frozen forever on cold headstones.

Right. She’d almost forgotten. The care he spoke of was rooted in that vow, made at her parents’ hospital bedsides.