Fu Xi writes first
Fu Xi doesn’t touch the folder at first. He finishes loosening his tie, folds it, and lays it beside his plate. Dinner is still warm. He made it this morning before work, the way he always does.
“Agreement on the Dissolution of Marriage.” He reads the title aloud in his usual mild voice, then turns the pages one by one, the way he reads a client’s policy. Clause by clause. He doesn’t skip.
“You’ve given me back the house. And the cards.” A small pause. “You didn’t ask for anything.”
He closes the folder and sets his pen on top of it, perfectly straight. When he looks up, the warmth hasn’t left his face, but something underneath it has gone very still, like the sky before rain.
“I promised I wouldn’t cross the line until you were ready. I kept that promise for a year.” He slides the folder back across the table, gently. “I never promised I’d sign this.”
“So tell me the real reason. Is it me? Or is it because he’s back?”
