Five days left until my departure.
When I woke up in the morning, Philip had already changed into his suit and was spraying cologne in front of the mirror.
"Wifey, I made appointments with a few new suppliers today, I might have to accompany them for an afternoon of golf." He looked back at me with an apology whose authenticity was impossible to tell. "Can you sort out your own lunch?"
I looked at the familiar silver tie clip on his tie; it was the one I had won for him at an auction last year. Now he was wearing it, going to keep the appointment with the woman in the WeChat voice message who made him chuckle and say "the steak is getting cold."
Playing golf?
If it were the past, I would have been hysterical with him long ago, making a huge scene. But now, seeing him racking his brain
