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.

voice on the other

while his pen

at work this late? If you don't leave, neither can your 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

catch up to VectorVista because I didn't take

at a loss for words and changed the subject. "I'm sending you an address. Come

was, the background noise boisterous, as if he were at

his pen after

city's

Og windows, a tapestry

of urban splendor.

"I'll pass."

a costume party. It

part of that

it if you don't." The party was at

entered to find a motley crew of characters, from Snow White and Queen Esther to Harry Potter and No-Face. Even a priest with a donation

a bizarre