A Bitter Celebration

Jerica instinctively stepped back, clutching the envelope as though her very life depended on it. She had resolved to give him the divorce papers today, but the weight of their anniversary made it almost unbearable.

Jared, oblivious to the internal struggle raging within her, raised an eyebrow at her sudden retreat but chose not to press. "You brought your work home…" he mumbled, more to himself than to her, his gaze fixed on the gift he had set aside.

Jerica nodded vigorously, grateful for his misunderstanding. If he believed it was merely work, she wouldn't have to fabricate an excuse.

Her hands trembled as she wet her lips and clutched the envelope to her chest, trying to steady herself. She opened the card, and her heart sank as she saw its impersonal, store-bought message. The pre-printed affectionate words were devoid of any personal touch, and he hadn't even bothered to sign his name.

The scent of the rose was a bittersweet reminder of the distance between them. She placed it in the vase on the kitchen counter, the envelope now feeling like a heavy, oppressive weight. Her resolve wavered; the burden of unspoken words and unresolved emotions pressed heavily on her.

With a shaky smile, Jerica left the kitchen, desperately trying to hide the envelope once more. This time, she placed it near her purse, hoping he would assume it was just a "work file" and leave it at that.

Jared remained in the kitchen, holding the jewel box, waiting for her to return. His eyebrows twitched slightly as he noticed her complete disregard for the gift. He shrugged it off and placed the box on the table, then returned to the sink with a frown.

Jerica sat at the table, forcing a smile that felt increasingly fragile. She tried to convince herself that things might not be as bad as they seemed. Jared handled the cooking, which she considered the hardest part, while she took care of the other chores. Maybe, she thought, it was a fair trade, even if it felt more like a desperate compromise.

"Waffles," she said, attempting to sound cheerful despite the knot in her stomach.

"Fresh and hot," Jared replied, placing cutlery beside her plate with a smile that seemed practiced. "And ice cream I made from scratch," he added, his tone almost defensively proud.

Jerica took a bite of the ice cream, which was indeed delicious, surpassing anything store-bought. His talent in the kitchen was evident, and she wondered why he went to such lengths. But that was just who he was—meticulous and distant.

As she tasted the waffles, a flicker of hope sparked within her. Maybe, just maybe, they could start having breakfast together again. Perhaps today would be the beginning of change.

Her smile widened as she looked at him, savoring the morning's unexpected treat. It was a rare, genuine moment of warmth.

"I can't make it to dinner tonight," Jared said abruptly. "That's why I prepared your favorite breakfast. Don't wait for me."

The moment he said it, his phone rang. He always kept it on him, never leaving it behind, even when he showered.

Jerica's smile faltered as he walked out of the kitchen, mumbling into the phone. The realization hit her with a sharp pang—this breakfast, his smile, the gifts, they all felt like obligations. Was he merely fulfilling a duty because it was their anniversary? She hadn't even expected anything. She had almost forgotten the date. Even if he had done nothing, she wouldn't have blamed him.

Jerica stared at her plate, her appetite evaporating. If he hadn't smiled so warmly, she might not have felt this pang of disappointment. If this morning had been like every other silent one, she would have finished her breakfast peacefully.

The ice cream melted, seeping into the waffles as tears welled up in her eyes. She felt a sting of regret for hoping today might be different, for letting herself believe in a change that seemed so elusive.

She strained to catch fragments of his conversation, but all she could make out were muffled words. Jared, an Assistant District Attorney specializing in economic crimes, kept his work details shrouded in secrecy. His long hours and constant phone calls were a mystery she could never fully unravel.

Before she could discreetly clear her uneaten breakfast, Jared reentered the kitchen, now dressed in his suit, his glasses perched on his nose. She didn't know if his vision had deteriorated enough to need them.

She avoided his gaze as she discarded the food, feeling his eyes on her. If he noticed her silent protest, he didn't show it.

"Are you ready? Shall we leave together?" he asked, his voice indifferent, still absorbed in his phone call. It felt like a formality, another obligatory question because they worked in the same building.

"No," Jerica shook her head, her voice barely a whisper.

He didn't look at her again and turned to leave. Jerica leaned against the counter, closing her eyes as tears burned at the edges of her vision. The weight of her unspoken pain and the stark reality of her situation felt crushing.

She wished she could cry, to release some of the burden, but the tears remained stubbornly unspent. All she could manage was a deep, weary sigh, lost in the ache of unfulfilled hopes and dreams.

-----

Oakhill County Courthouse

In the black-tinted car parked in front of the courthouse, a young man in a crisp suit sighed heavily from the driver's seat. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard and then at the unresponsive man beside him.

"JP! Why are we just sitting here? It's getting late. I need to park the car! Are you even listening to me?" Nicholas Portman asked, his patience fraying as he side-eyed his boss, trying to make his voice sound more urgent.

Of course, his words bounced off the figurative wall that was the Siberian Beast. Jared Petrovski sat like a statue, his eyes fixed on something outside the car. Nicholas scoffed and, in a melodramatic gesture, pressed his forehead against the window as if hoping to find solace in the cool glass.

"Boss…" he tried again, his voice a mix of desperation and resignation after several minutes of silence. "Boss…"

When that failed, he decided to pull out the big guns. "Mr. Petrovski!" Nick shouted; with all the authority he could muster.

Jared's icy glare met his, and Nick instantly shrank back, his bravado deflating like a punctured balloon. He mentally kicked himself for forgetting who he was dealing with.

Why did his life have to be this way? Why couldn't he have a regular boss who, oh, you know, actually listened?

Nick sighed dramatically.

Growing up, he'd been doted on as the only son in his family, with dreams of becoming a lawyer fueled by endless hours of watching legal dramas. Sure, he wasn't exactly blessed with the brains for law school, but hey, he was doted on!

Becoming a paralegal was the closest he could get to his dream, and he'd struggled to land this job.

But no one told him the job came with a tiger—scratch that—a full-blown Siberian Beast for a boss.