Chapter 1
After twenty years of marriage, I called my husband as usual, reminding him to take his medicine while he worked overtime.
He grew impatient. "Enough already. I'm busy. Stop nagging me about such a small thing."
"You know," he added, "couples really need some distance. It's the only way to keep things fresh."
He started creating that distance, not letting me know his whereabouts, refusing to let me see his phone.
Every day, he'd lecture me about giving him enough personal space.
Two years later, I caught him and his mistress in a hotel room.
That was when he said, "You're the one who pulled away. We've become strangers now, with nothing left to talk about.
"A marriage without any connection is as good as dead."
In the struggle that followed, he pushed me to protect his mistress, shoving me right over the 15th-floor railing.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment he first brought up needing freshness.
This time, I'd show him what keeping his distance really meant.
*****
"Helen, don't you think we're so familiar it's almost too much?" James said.
James tossed out that same old question, just like before, when I linked his arms, walking into the party.
"It gets kind of stale when we're always this close," he added.
"Maybe we should learn from youngsters, put a little distance between us, and keep things exciting."
As he spoke, his eyes were locked on a group of lively young women in the far corner.
I cast my eyes down, but didn't overlook that fleeting look of infatuation in his gaze.
"You're right. We should move with the times," I replied.
I slipped my arm away from his and quietly made my way to my seat.
I wasn't going to waste myself running around for him anymore; no more playing his shield at the table or helping him build connections.
"James, you and Helen look so loving! You even bring her along to big events like this, which makes everyone else jealous," joked one of his colleagues.
The guy's tone was all flattery, obviously hoping to score some points with James.
James's expression froze for a split second, but he still forced a polite smile.
His eyes swept over me, and that silent look told me just how little he thought of me.
He leaned closer to his colleague, speaking in a low voice. "We're an old married couple, nothing fresh anymore. It's just appearances for these business events."
His words weren't loud, but they drilled straight into my ears, each one landing like a cold blade deep in my heart.
The hand resting on my knee clenched into a fist uncontrollably, my fingernails nearly digging into the palm.
I stared at his smug face, so proud of himself, already looking for something new, and an icy numbness settled in my chest.
Everything I once felt for him, the love, the heartbreak, was now completely frozen, buried deep and unreachable.
James, if you want to play the freshness game, then I'll give you the best performance you've ever seen.
This time, Helen Carter isn't going to be your pushover anymore.
The dinner was reaching its peak, glasses clinking everywhere as alcohol and hormones turned the room electric.
James was working the crowd, glass in hand, grinning from ear to ear.
It was obvious James was irritated that I wasn't stepping up as his partner tonight. He turned to me, his tone sharp and commanding.
"Helen, go light a cigarette for Mr. Johnson. Be polite, he's the one who can help me move up in the company," he ordered.
As soon as he said it, all the colleagues around us turned to look at me, clearly waiting to see how I'd react.
Back then, I would've immediately put on a smile, obediently taken the cigarette case and lighter, and carefully approached Mr. Johnson, terrified of making even the slightest mistake.
I used to think that was just what a good wife was supposed to do, always playing the perfect partner.
But this time, I stood my ground and didn't budge.
I just gave a confident smile and picked up my glass.
I stood up slowly and walked over to Mr. Johnson, my voice soft but every word crystal clear.
"Mr. Johnson, James had stomach issues recently; his doctor advised him to smoke and drink less. So let me drink with you, thanking you for supporting him," I said.
I raised my glass and gently tapped it against Mr. Johnson's glass, my gaze sincere and perfectly poised.
My words were airtight; not only did I offer him the utmost respect, but I skillfully dodged James's demand and even threw in a sly reminder about his less-than-stellar health.
Suddenly, the entire table went completely silent, the air thick with surprise.
James had never expected that the ever-obedient Helen would leave him hanging not once but twice, right in front of everyone.