21

He cut through the entire atmosphere by grabbing his keys from where he had left them on the refrigerator and putting on his cheerful, carefree expression again.

With renewed energy—though a bit forced—he said: “But write it all down somewhere. With all the details. Someday someone will have a good laugh over it. I can give it to Sheena, for example, when she starts telling me that her dad is kind of weird. So she’ll believe me, you know—that she’s really his. That he didn’t just draw up some… contract for her too.”

As he joked, he traced a rectangle in the air with his fingers and moved toward the front door.

“It was good to see you, little mouse. I was already scolding myself for being such a lousy uncle to Sheena, not even coming by to see how she likes it in our world. So I promise I’ll make up for it and start visiting you more often from now on. If you need anything, ladies…”

“We’ll call,” Mishi hugged him and watched as he headed out through the garden. “And be careful, Mario. No stupid stunts on that new beauty! What would Areneán do without you.”

Mario laughed from the gate.

“What you do. It’d have Taris,” he shrugged. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. It would just piss me off, dead or not, that I wouldn’t get to see the faces on the council when he takes the head seat.”

…

Mishi smiled faintly, with a hint of bitterness. She stayed standing in the doorway, watching Mario drive away. It saddened her that he still hadn’t let go of some things from the past. She wished he would finally find peace like she had. That he would figure out what he truly wanted, because he was running around Areneán like a torn soul. He envied the Tarises their family, yet did everything to ensure he himself never had one. And she didn’t believe he was unaware of that.

There was nothing more Mishi could do for him. She closed Mario away within herself and reflected on his last remark. Maybe it really wouldn’t be a bad idea to write down what she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. Memories she had to keep only for herself.

…

Perhaps especially those of the evening when she and Tay returned from that ball—the one after which their marriage was supposed to end. They were facing a conversation about what would come next. A conversation about divorce.

They had both successfully avoided the topic for the past week, and an indescribable tension had settled between them. But the final date was set in the agreement, so that morning Mishi placed it on the table in the living room.

She looked at it and reflected on how she had felt when she first read it. And, above all—how she felt today. Because even though she later confessed her feelings for Tay to Mario while dancing that evening, she wasn’t as firmly decided as she had pretended. She still needed something. At least a small sign that what she had seen in Tay when she returned from Rohn hadn’t been imagined. Since then, Tay had become distant again, just as before, and the unsuccessful pursuit Mishi had thrown herself into for weeks afterward had exhausted her greatly. She no longer understood what Tay actually wanted.

…

Tay noticed the contract only when they returned from the ball late at night, and its yellow cover stopped him in his tracks at the threshold of the living room.

With this gesture, Mishi hadn’t struck the right chord. Tay had been unbelievably irritable already at the ball—and that was saying something, even for a Taris. He hadn’t uttered a word during the entire car ride home and, once inside, only muttered something about going straight to bed. When Mishi found him in the living room, staring at the agreement with hostility, she quickly reconsidered her plan. They wouldn’t resolve anything tonight.

She walked to the coffee table to put the agreement away somewhere, when she noticed the wine above the fireplace that Mario had once brought. She had placed it there only because of the beautiful large bottle. She had never intended to open it. But the sight of it gave her the idea that she might try one move she had never attempted with Tay before.

“What if we at least clink glasses tonight?” she said to him gently.

At the mention of the wine, however, she earned Tay’s hard stare at what he took for a bad joke. She knew he strictly didn’t drink. But she didn’t give up.

“Just a little—to celebrate that we made it through that insane year,” she went on, rearranging the cushions on the sofa to suggest that he settle in and not go anywhere. “I’ll bring us some glasses and change into sweatpants, because I can’t breathe in this dress. You can light the fire in the fireplace in the meantime. It’ll be warmer in here.”

She smiled artificially, while inside everything tightened at the gamble she was attempting.

She wanted to slip quickly past his silent figure, but he caught her and looked at her irritably. “I’d really rather go to bed. It was a terrible evening. I’m tired.”

She felt the urgency in him—the desire to just take off and escape. But after a year by his side, she had honed her acting skills, so she put on an innocent, uncomprehending expression.

“I know. That’s exactly why we should close today on something positive. Just one glass—I won’t keep you long. Please, do it for me,” she said, gently stroking the hand with which he was still holding her.