Hold My Tear, I’m Getting My Wife Back!

But tonight, the gentle breeze stirred something deep within her soul.

Tina returned to her third-floor room, flicked on the light, and approached the window, her index finger parting the sheer curtains.

The vine-covered pergola was dim, its inhabitants gone. Phillip stood in the pitch-black night, his features obscured by the feeble nocturnal glow. He was looking her way.

Tina closed the curtains and threw herself onto the bed, sprawling out and staring blankly at the ceiling.

Her phone chimed. She reached for it.

Phillip texted, [I'll give you some time to think it over. Just let me know your decision when you're ready.]

Phillip hadn't received a reply since returning to Stonebridge from Capital City.

Their conversation on the swing that night seemed like a figment of his imagination, with only him waiting for a response.

He would check his phone occasionally, the frequency of his messages to her significantly increasing, yet they sank like stones in the ocean.

When a friend called him, Phillip was signing a stack of documents.

the voice on

Phillip replied, cradling the phone against his shoulder while his pen danced across the papers, his words sparing and efficient, not

secretary. What kind of Scrooge boss are you?" his friend clicked his tongue. "VectorVista is thriving. Can't you take a half-day off? What harm could it do, giving the other

they can't catch up to VectorVista because I didn't take a half-day off?"

friend was at a loss for words and changed the subject. "I'm sending

lively where he was, the background noise boisterous, as if he

his

document, the city's lights

Og windows, a tapestry

of urban splendor.

"I'll pass."

a costume party. It

remained uninterested: "Which part of that is supposed to

you don't." The party was at

Queen Esther to Harry Potter and No-Face. Even a priest with a donation box was there. At the door, two figures with their faces painted white and

into a bizarre fusion