Chapter 4

At dinner, I gave Henry Foster the tie.

"I bought this for you. At the mall today, I thought this one would really suit you."

He took it and looked at it, then smiled.

"You still remembered I mentioned last week I wanted a new tie."

"Of course I remembered."

He stood up, walked over to me, and placed the tie on my lap.

"Help me put it on."

I picked up the tie. He lowered his head.

I wrapped the tie around the back of his neck, my fingers moving to tie a Windsor knot.

I'd done this action for five years.

Every morning before he left, I would help him with his tie.

Sometimes when he woke up late, I'd chase him to the garage to do it.

Andy used to say, "Mom is Dad's personal tie specialist."

"Evelyn."

He called my name softly.

"Mm?"

"Keep helping me with my tie every morning from now on, okay?"

He asked so gently, so earnestly.

For a moment, I almost believed we were just an ordinary loving couple, without those secrets, without Claire Shaw, without that car accident that broke both my legs.

But that thought only lasted a second.

"Sure."

I responded, my voice light and sweet.

He lowered his head and kissed my forehead.

Just like every time before he left over the past five years.

Except this time, I didn't close my eyes.

That evening, I prepared his bath, heated a glass of milk and placed it on his nightstand, and straightened his slippers.

I'd done these things for five years, flawlessly.

After he lay down, he held my hand.

"Evelyn, good night."

"Good night."

He fell asleep quickly.

His breathing steady, his expression relaxed.

I'd looked at this face for five years---from unfamiliar to familiar, from moved to dependent, from love to pain.

I gently pulled my hand away.

He didn't wake.

I pushed my wheelchair to the study.

Closed the door tightly. Didn't turn on the light. Only the blue glow from the computer screen fell on my face.

I opened a blank document and started typing.

"Divorce Agreement"---four words, bolded.

Then my fingers hovered above the keyboard.

A wind suddenly picked up outside. The osmanthus tree in the garden rustled.

Last year Henry Foster pushed me under that tree and picked a small branch of osmanthus flowers to place on my lap.

He said, "Evelyn, I'll take care of you for the rest of your life."

The osmanthus was very fragrant then. He spoke so earnestly.

I lowered my head and typed the first line in the document.

"The husband Henry Foster and the wife Evelyn Reed voluntarily dissolve their marriage."

I stopped there.

Light footsteps came from the hallway---Andy's slippers on the wooden floor.

He got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Passing the study, his footsteps paused for a second, then continued.

He didn't push the door open. He probably thought I just couldn't sleep.

I continued typing.

"Regarding child custody: The biological son, Andrew Foster, shall be raised by the husband. The wife voluntarily gives up custody rights. Regarding property division: The wife voluntarily gives up all marital property. The wife's personal premarital assets and independent post-marital savings shall be managed by the husband and transferred entirely to the biological son Andrew Foster upon his reaching adulthood."

I lifted my fingers from the keyboard.

Read it through from start to finish.

Very fair.

He wouldn't lose anything. I wanted nothing.

I wouldn't even fight him for the child.

Andy wanted Claire as his mother---let him have his wish.

I clicked print.

The printer hummed and spat out an A4 sheet.

I picked it up, blew on it, folded it, and put it in my bag.

Then returned to the bedroom.

Henry Foster was still sleeping, his position unchanged.

I lay back down and closed my eyes.

Tomorrow, everything would be different.

The next day was the weekend.

Henry Foster got up later than usual. I helped him with his tie and stood at the door watching him leave for the office.

After he left, I started packing.

Not luggage---traces.