Chapter Thirty: The Hours He Keeps
952 Words
Ethan decided to cancel the dinner appointment first, then the fundraiser, and last but not the least, the board drinks he’d already said yes to.
By the third week, his assistant noticed.
“You want me to push the call with the Tokyo partners again?” Maya asked carefully, standing by his desk.
Ethan glanced at the clock. “No. Schedule it for next week.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
She hesitated. “You’ve been… lighter on your calendar.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s intentional.”
Maya nodded, though curiosity lingered. “Alright. I’ll update everything.”
When she left, Ethan leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. It was almost seven.
Clara usually got home by eight. Sometimes nine.
He shut down his laptop and stood, grabbing his coat. He made a special arrangement at their mansion to set up a dinner for two for him and Clara. He also made sure that it was nothing elaborate. Just clean and simple, as his wife doesn't like grand things...
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Back in the house, it was already 10 pm and Clara isn't home yet. The food is getting cold, and Ethan is now feeling frustrated and disappointed.
Mrs. Alvarez, their longtime housekeeper, hovered near the doorway. “Should I keep the food warm, sir?”
“Yes, please,” Ethan said. “She’ll be home soon.”
Mrs. Alvarez smiled kindly. “Of course."
He checked his phone, hoping to read any messages from Clara, but there was nothing...
At 11 pm, Ethan stood and poured himself a glass of water. He checked his phone again, but there was no message from his wife.
Mrs. Alvarez returned quietly. “Sir… the food won’t hold much longer.”
Ethan hesitated. “It’s fine. We can reheat it.”
“She’s working very hard,” she said gently.
“I know,” he replied.
Mrs. Alvarez nodded and retreated.
Ethan sat back down, hands folded on the table, eyes fixed on the empty chair across from him.
Clara came home at exactly midnight. Ethan heard the front door clicked softly, and
he stood immediately when he heard her keys.
“Hey,” he said as she stepped into the living room.
Clara froze for a second, clearly startled. “Oh—Ethan. You’re still up.”
“I waited,” he said simply.
She looked at him, then at the dining room. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”
“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “Did you eat?”
“Not really.” She rubbed her temple. “We had coffee. A lot of it."
“You must be exhausted.”
She nodded. “Yeah. I am.”
He gestured toward the table. “There’s food. It might need reheating.”
Clara hesitated. “I don’t want to trouble—”
“I already waited,” he said gently. “Another few minutes won’t hurt.”
She gave a small, tired smile. “Okay.”
They sat.
The food was reheated. The wine remained unopened.
“So,” Ethan said, once they’d both taken a few bites. “How was your day?”
Clara exhaled. “Long.”
“Productive?”
“Yes. Complicated, but good.”
He nodded. “That’s good.”
She glanced at him. “How about you?”
“Quiet,” he said. “I wrapped things up early.”
“That’s rare.”
“I’m trying something new.”
She smiled faintly, but her eyes were already drifting.
They finished dinner mostly in silence.
“Thank you for waiting,” Clara said softly as she stood.
Ethan met her gaze. “Anytime.”
Clara let's out a sigh. "You don't have to do this, you know..."
“I know,” he said. “But I want to.”
She sat beside him, leaving a careful distance between them.
“I heard from Maya that you’re canceling things,” she said quietly.
“Yes.”
“Because of me?”
“Because I’m your husband.”
She didn’t look at him. “I never asked you to change your schedule."
“I know.”
“Then why are you?”
He thought for a moment. “Because if I don’t, I feel like I’m missing you. Even when you’re still here.”
Clara swallowed. “Ethan…”
“I’m not asking you to come home earlier,” he said quickly. “I’m not asking anything.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“I’m waiting.”
She closed her eyes briefly. “That’s not fair to you.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But it’s my choice.”
Clara studied him. “Why are you being so patient?"
He met her gaze. “Because I don’t want you to feel rushed. Or pressured.”
“And if I never slow down?” she asked.
“Then I’ll adjust,” he said calmly.
“That doesn’t sound sustainable.”
“It’s not meant to be permanent,” he replied. “Just… for now."
She nodded slowly. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”
“I’m not asking you to be anything,” he said. “Just be here when you can.”
In her room later after dinner, Clara sat on the edge of the bed, shoes still on.
She thought about Daniel, their work, and about the person she felt like during the day. Then she also thought about her husband, Ethan...
She pressed a hand to her chest, unsure what the feeling was. But she knew it was Guilt, gratitude and something warm and fuzzy that she can't explain...
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