Jefferson stood there, mute, as he watched the kaleidoscope of emotions playing out on Rita's face.
Finally, he found his voice, "Understand what?" he asked, a hint of confusion lacing his words.
Rita reached out, her hand resting gently on his back.
"No worries, Jefferson. I don't regret marrying you, not one bit," she murmured, her voice a soothing whisper.
"Let's just keep this between us, like our little secret from before, okay?"
With a small, knowing smile, she turned and walked away, a look of relief washing over her.
Jefferson was left puzzling over her sudden warmth.
He wasn't ready to drop his guard just yet—she hadn't explained who that persistent guy from Lew City was.
After work, as he prepared to leave, he stumbled upon Rita by chance.
He braced himself for silence, betting she'd brush past him just like she had been doing.
But to his surprise, Rita closed the distance between them, leaning in so close he could feel her breath as she almost whispered, "Will you be coming back tonight?"
His mind raced. "What? She wants me to come over?"
He interpreted her invitation as a plea for forgiveness, a sign she might finally open up about everything.
His attitude softened on the spot, and before Rita could say another word, he responded, "Well, yeah. I was actually planning on heading to your place. What do you think?"
Rita's eyes lit up. "Really? That's great! Would you mind giving me a lift home, then?"
Jefferson, taken aback by her eagerness to bridge the gap between them, managed a surprised, "Oh! Sure."
He hadn't anticipated this turn of events—Rita wanting to be close again—and it left him feeling a mix of shock and cautious optimism.
When they got home, Jefferson couldn't help but notice that despite his long absence, everything he owned was still in its place, neat and well-maintained.
It seemed like Rita had been looking after his things all this time.
A sense of satisfaction crept in, and he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Rita had rediscovered her affection for him during their time apart.
As he started to shrug off his coat, Rita was already by his side, her hands reaching out. "Here, let me do that. I'll take it to the laundry room," she offered, her voice carrying a note of domestic warmth.
"Oh, thanks, Rita," he replied, a bit taken aback by her attentiveness.
"That's what a wife is supposed to do, right?" she said, a playful edge to her words.
Jefferson couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at this. This version of Rita was a far cry from the woman he remembered.
His mind raced with suspicion—was she buttering him up for a favor? He clamped his mouth shut, deciding it was best to keep quiet and see what she was really up to.
As bedtime rolled around, Jefferson found himself wondering, "Is she going to banish me to the sofa again tonight?"
But then Rita's voice floated in from the living room, casual yet clear. "Hey, are you coming to bed or what?"
He stopped dead in his tracks. "So, she's actually okay with sharing the bed tonight... Maybe she did miss me. Maybe all that time alone made her realize she's actually in love with me!"
The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning.
He caught Rita's gaze from across the room, and a wild thought crossed his mind, "Is she... is she gearing up to be intimate tonight?"
He stared at her, a mix of anticipation and wariness. "Hold on, I need to think this through."
Jefferson lingered in the bath, the steam and solitude giving him more than enough time to mull things over. The water had long since cooled, and he'd spent a good half-hour longer than usual just sitting there, wrestling with a single, nagging question: Should he be intimate with Rita tonight?
Truth be told, Rita had always been attractive to him—more than just attractive, actually. Before that blind date debacle, he'd been genuinely intrigued by her, drawn in by her charm. But as they got to know each other better, she seemed to shift, becoming someone he couldn't quite connect with, someone who wasn't quite his type. And then, when she turned cold, it stung more than he expected. He was left adrift, unsure of his current feelings for her.
As for sex, well, Jefferson was the kind of guy who preferred to have his emotions sorted out first. It was important to him, that clarity of feeling. So, there in the bath, he made his decision. He was going to take a stand, tell Rita that they needed to take things slow. With that resolution firm in his mind, he finally stepped out of the bathroom.
But there she was, Rita, sound asleep. It took him by surprise. He couldn't help but chuckle quietly to himself, thinking about all the time he'd spent agonizing over a decision that, for tonight at least, was moot.
"Good night," he whispered into the dim room, more to himself than to her.
There was no response—not that he expected one. He turned his back to her, settling into bed with a mind still teeming with thoughts, and eventually drifted off into a deep, contemplative sleep.
The rich, warm scent of freshly baked goods nudged Jefferson awake, a welcome change from the shrill blare of his usual morning alarm. As he shuffled into the kitchen, the aroma of coffee hit him—it was robust and inviting. Rita was there, bustling about the kitchen, a domestic goddess in her element. He couldn't help but marvel at the scene; it was so... normal, so unexpectedly pleasant.
"Morning, Rita," he said, his voice still thick with sleep.
She turned, a bright smile on her face. "Good morning, Jefferson. Try one of these bagels I just pulled out of the oven. What'll it be for you, strawberry or apricot jam?"
Her cheerfulness was infectious, and Jefferson found himself smiling back. "You know, you've been really kind to me, Rita," he said, his gratitude genuine. "How about dinner after work? My treat. It seems like the least I can do to thank you."
Rita's smile didn't wane. "That sounds lovely. Thanks! Just... let's keep it between us, okay? We don't need the whole office gossiping."
"Of course," Jefferson assured her. "Our secret."
He was about to reach for a bagel when Rita threw him a curveball. "Wait, Jefferson, is Neo coming to dinner too?"
"Neo? Why would he—?" Jefferson paused, a frown creasing his forehead. He couldn't fathom why she would bring up his assistant out of the blue. "No, it'll just be the two of us. Why do you ask?"