Raymond spoke from nearby. Dominic’s gaze fell to the woman on the screen. Dressed in a sharp black business suit, she appeared confident and poised, radiating quiet defiance. He remembered seeing her disheveled, dejected, utterly broken. Today, despite her desperate attempts to please, humiliation had driven her to flee. A flicker of irritation crossed his mind. Perhaps he’d been too harsh.
Around 9:00 p.m., Vespera awoke and went to the kitchen to make pasta. As she stirred the pot, her phone buzzed. A message from Raymond. Since her last inquiry about Dominic’s measurements, he’d ignored her. Now, unexpectedly, he’d sent a set of numbers and a message: “Mr. Reid said you owe him a suit. To avoid confusion while shopping, he asked me to provide you with his measurements.”
Vespera stared, dumbfounded. What did he mean? Was he reconsidering, giving me another chance? She dismissed the thought. She couldn’t be so self-absorbed. This was likely his way of ensuring she didn’t use the suit as an excuse to see him—a preemptive strike against any tricks. If she misread his intentions and used the suit as an excuse, he would mock her. She wanted the job, but not at the cost of her dignity. Carefully, she replied, “Got it. I’ll purchase the suit and mail it.”
Raymond relayed the message to Dominic: “Ms. Gildon says she’ll send the suit by mail.” Dominic thought, “Mail it?”
Wearing his platinum-rimmed glasses, Dominic sat on the couch reading, his gaze flickering slightly, his composure unwavering. He hummed softly, turning a page with slender, pale fingers, showing little interest. Raymond hesitated. “Should I remind her?” He knew this was Dominic’s way of offering Vespera an opportunity, and he sympathized with her. Dominic replied flatly, “There’s no need. If she’s unwilling, there’s no point in forcing it.” Raymond suppressed a sigh. How exactly do you know she doesn't want it? The statement felt odd, but he knew better than to question it further.
The next day, Vespera shopped for the suit. A car discreetly followed her. She wandered through Halewick’s upscale malls, meticulously comparing suits to find one resembling Dominic’s charcoal gray one. Two hours passed, her legs aching, yet she still hadn’t found the right one. Charcoal gray suits weren't scarce; his was custom-made, perfectly tailored by a top-tier designer. Luxury brands couldn’t match it. She sat on a bench, imagining his disdain and indifference. “Ugh, whatever.” His opinion didn't matter. After resting, she chose a similar charcoal gray suit from a store she’d visited earlier. As the sales associate took Dominic’s measurements, she commented, “Your husband has a great build. Is he a model?” Vespera scoffed inwardly. A model? Dominic would consider that an insult. She left with the suit and messaged Raymond for his mailing address. As she typed, someone trailing her snapped a photo and sent it to Luke.
Luke had just returned from a meeting. The image from the golf course lingered in his mind—Vespera, with a man ahead of her. He could stray, but she couldn’t. A touch from another man would enrage him. Vespera was his; hers was to love him, only him, to be beside him even in death. He kept her under surveillance. As he sat, he received the photo. Vespera had spent three hours at the mall and bought a men’s suit. A wave of satisfaction washed over him. She’d bought him clothes; she’d come to her senses. Being a good wife was paramount.
Vespera had planned to mail the suit immediately, but her message went unanswered, so she took it home. She tossed it on the living room couch and showered. The rest of the afternoon was spent packing. Eight days remained. Sadness washed over her as she looked around the house she’d lived in for years, a home designed to her preferences, every piece of furniture chosen, even space for a nursery. They’d planned a life together; now, she was leaving.
While packing her study, she opened a long-untouched drawer and found an old USB drive. It contained photos from her life with Luke—high school, college. He’d been so handsome. Laughing and crying, she relived those memories. She felt a need to visit her past, to say goodbye to the Luke she once knew.
That evening, Luke unexpectedly returned for dinner. Vespera didn’t cook. She grabbed an expired box of instant noodles and threw it at him. Luke stared, speechless. “Maybe you should eat out. You prefer things from outside—women, beds, food; everything outside seems better than what’s at home.” He wondered if she was trying to oust him. His good mood vanished, replaced by frustration. “Other people’s wives cook hot meals, and you’re making me eat instant noodles?” Vespera thought, Not poisoning you is my last mercy. Casually, she said, “It’s tomato-flavored, originally for me, but you can have it.” Luke’s frustration peaked. “I never eat tomatoes.” Vespera feigned surprise. “Oh, I forgot.” With a frozen expression, Luke glared at her before storming upstairs. Vespera took the noodles to the dining room, found a comedy show, and ate while watching.
Luke sulked in his study. How could she go from carefully choosing a suit to this? Even without notice, she should have bought ingredients. She hadn’t remembered his preferences. His mood worsened. He went to the walk-in closet to see the suit, but it wasn’t there. As he was about to ask her, he paused at the doorway, looking around the room. He noticed how few of her belongings remained.