Chapter 1

My husband fired the nurse who cared for his father and called to inform me, "Starting tomorrow, you're taking care of my dad. I've already let the nanny go."

I let out a cold laugh, hung up, and kept working.

The next day, my boss called me into his office with an odd expression. "Your husband was here. He applied for a three-year unpaid leave on your behalf."

I was stunned.

"Your husband said you have an elderly relative to care for." My boss slid the document across the desk.

I looked at the paperwork and laughed.

*****

When my husband, Hank Miller, called, I was double-checking an urgent financial report.

My phone buzzed on the desk, his name flashing across the screen.

I hit the speaker, not even glancing away from my monitor. "Hello?"

"Jenny, I've already settled things with Lucy," Hank said.

Lucy was the caregiver for his dad.

"She's leaving today," Hank added.

My fingers froze on the keyboard for a second.

"Starting tomorrow, you're going home to take care of my dad. I've already let Lucy go." His tone made it clear this was an announcement, not a discussion.

I picked up my phone and glanced at the time in the corner of my screen. It was 4:30 PM.

There was still an hour and a half until the workday ended.

I let out a soft laugh. "I understand."

Then I hung up.

No argument, no questions.

I switched my phone to silent and set it back on the desk. Then I got back to work.

I entered the last line of data into the spreadsheet, triple-checked for errors, saved, and sent it out.

After that, I packed up my things and left work. Business as usual, as if Hank's phone call had been nothing more than a misdialed nuisance call.

The next day, I showed up at the office like it was any other day.

I'd just set my bag down and made myself a cup of coffee when the internal line buzzed.

It was Peter, the department director. "Jenny, can you come to my office for a minute?"

His voice sounded a little off.

I grabbed my coffee and headed into his office.

Peter sat behind his desk, his expression hard to read. He rarely looked like that. "Have a seat."

I pulled out a chair and sat down. "Is there something you wanted to talk about, Mr. Smith?"

Peter was silent for a few seconds, like he was searching for the right words. "Jenny, did something happen at your home?"

I was caught off guard for a moment. "No."

Peter let out a sigh, picked up a document from his desk, and slid it across to me. "Your husband was here."

My heart sank.

"He submitted this application for you, as your husband," Peter said.

I lowered my eyes.

The words on the page jumped out at me in black and white: [Application for Unpaid Leave of Absence.]

Applicant: [Jenny Shaw.]

I took my time, reading each line slowly, letting it all sink in.

Reason for Leave: [To provide long-term care for a seriously ill elderly family member.]

Requested Leave Period: [3 years.]

At the bottom was a bold, dramatic signature: Hank Miller.

The submission time was 9 AM today.

I stared at Hank's signature, at the document itself, and suddenly the whole thing felt utterly absurd. An absurdity that chilled me to the bone.

Then, I laughed. Not loud, yet piercingly distinct in the quiet of that office.

Peter stared at me, totally stunned. "Jenny, you..."

I looked up, the smile still lingering on my face. "Mr. Smith, this application isn't valid unless I sign it myself, right?"

"That's the policy, but your husband said it was urgent and claimed you two had already discussed it," Peter replied.

"We never discussed this," I said calmly. "This is entirely his decision."

I picked up the forged application. Deliberately, right in front of Peter, I tore it slowly in half down the middle.

Then I folded the halves and tore them again into quarters, tossing them straight into the shredder by his feet.

A mechanical hum filled the air, then quickly subsided into silence.

Once I was done, I stood up. "Sorry for the trouble, Mr. Smith. I'll get back to work now."

Peter gave me a complicated look, his eyes full of mixed emotions.

In the end, he nodded. "Alright, go ahead."

I walked out of his office and returned to my desk.

I sat down, picked up my now lukewarm coffee, and took out my phone. In full view of my colleagues, I dialed Hank.