Chapter 5 The scheme

The room had gone quiet again. Not the heavy silence that followed arguments-but the comfortable kind, where two friends didn't need to fill the air just to feel connected.

Peter took a swig from his beer and glanced over at Richard, who sat hunched forward, staring into the bottle like it held answers.

After a few minutes, peter broke the quiet.

"You remember what you told me the last ?" he asked. "About the divorce?"

Richard didn't answer right away. His shoulders tensed.

Peter continued, voice gentle. "You said you were done. That you couldn't take it anymore. You even looked at apartments."

Richard rubbed a hand down his face and leaned back against the couch, eyes tired. "Yeah. I remember."

"So... what happened, man?" peter asked. "Why didn't you go through with it?"

There was a long pause. Richard swallowed hard. His fingers gripped the bottle tighter.

"She is sick," he finally said.

Peter blinked. "What?"

"She was diagnosed a few days after I told you," Richard said, voice low. "Autoimmune. The kind that drains you, makes your joints stiff, takes away your energy.

Peter sat up straighter, his expression shifting.

Richard gave a tired smile. "And just like that, everything changed. How do you walk away from someone when they need you? When they're scared and weak, even if they won't admit it?"

Peter didn't speak. He just listened.

"I stayed," Richard said. "Of course I stayed. I care for her. Managed things at home. I kept showing up."

He looked at peter then, eyes hollow. "But she didn't. She shut down. Pushed me away. Maybe she was ashamed. Maybe she hated feeling helpless. But whatever it was, she stopped being my partner. Stopped letting me in."

Peter let out a slow breath. "You've been carrying all this by yourself?"

Richard nodded. "I didn't know how to tell anyone. I didn't want pity. I didn't want to make excuses for her either. But the truth is... I'm exhausted, peter. I feel like I've been bleeding quietly while holding everything together, and she won't even look me in the eye."

Peter looked at him, eyes serious now. "You loved her through something that broke her. That's not weakness, Richard. That's loyalty most people don't understand. But loving someone doesn't mean you stop protecting yourself."

Richard looked away, his voice rough. "I don't know who I am anymore. Husband? Caregiver? Ghost?"

"You're still you," peter said. "You're just buried under all the things no one sees. But I see you. And you're not done yet."

The two friends sat in silence again. But this time, it wasn't heavy.

It was honest.

Richard fell asleep so soon, and Peter went to his room also to sleep

The morning was quiet.

Richard stood in front of the mirror, buttoning the sleeves of a crisp white shirt. No beard, no mess. Just a clean face, calm eyes, and a man who'd decided not to carry yesterday into today.

He hadn't gone home the night before. And he didn't plan to talk about why. Not with anyone. Some choices don't need explanation-just the quiet courage to move forward.

By 8:15 a.m., he was on the road, the city already stretching awake. He wasn't in a rush. He wasn't expecting anything-just planned to show up, do his job, and mind his own space.

Richard wasn't late. He never was.

Even after a restless night on his friend peter's couch, even after waking up with a stiffness in his back and a weight in his chest that had nothing to do with sleep, he still arrived at the company before 9:00 a.m. sharp.

He didn't bother thinking of his wife, their routines were now carefully separate. She, the CEO of the sprawling multi-level company they both worked in. He, the in-house legal counsel, handling everything from contracts to liability claims. Same building, different worlds. The company was her vision. He simply kept it clean on paper.

As Richard entered the office lobby, he immediately sensed something was off.

The front desk staff wasn't making their usual jokes. The floor managers on duty had tight expressions, all of them glancing toward the elevators. Something had shifted.

He took the elevator to his floor. His assistant met him before he even reached his office.

"There's been an incident," she said quickly. "Customer collapsed. It happened about an hour ago on the fourth floor-Tech & Appliances section. EMTs came, but now there's a family talking lawsuit. PR is rattled. HR's all over the place. They want you down there."

He raised an eyebrow. "Health issue or negligence?"

"They're not sure yet," she said. "But people were recording. And now there's talk of someone claiming the customer asked for help and was ignored."

Richard exhaled slowly and adjusted his cuff. "Right. I'll handle it."

He rode the elevator back down, this time to the fourth floor.

A woman collapsed near the smart device aisle on the fourth floor. Staff rushed to assist. Paramedics were called. A few customers began filming. Within minutes, a man-who claimed to be the woman's nephew-was shouting about negligence, about how no one helped his aunt until it was too late. He threatened a lawsuit, demanded compensation, and said the company had better "settle quick or face media backlash."

Dera, the CEO, had been notified immediately.

She didn't hesitate-just went straight to the floor.

She arrived with her usual grace and authority, hair tied back, heels sharp against the tile. Her presence turned heads. She was used to it. But what she walked into wasn't a scene needing sympathy-it was a performance already in motion.

She approached the family calmly, already briefed on the situation.

"Good morning," she said evenly. "I've been told your aunt collapsed. I hope she's receiving the attention she needs."

The man's eyes lit up, as if he'd been waiting for an audience.

"She collapsed right there, and no one helped! You think we'll just walk away from this?"

Saira remained composed. "According to our team, she was assisted immediately. Emergency response came within minutes. Is she stable now?"

The woman on the floor stirred slightly-barely noticeably.

That's when Dera's tone shifted.

"If she's well enough to travel, we'll ensure she gets to a hospital. But if this is an attempt to manipulate our team or reputation for a payout, I suggest you think carefully."

The man's expression twisted. "Excuse me?"

Dera raised an eyebrow. "We've dealt with staged claims before. We're not unfamiliar."

The aunt suddenly blinked and sat up-too easily for someone who'd just collapsed. The bystanders started to murmur. One store employee backed away, trying not to laugh.

Dera folded her arms. "If you need real medical help, we'll continue cooperating. If not, I suggest you stop wasting people's time."

The man lost it.

"You cold, arrogant witch!"

Then, without warning-before security could react-he lashed out and slapped her across the face.

Gasps rang out. The sound echoed.

Security surged forward. The man was on the ground in seconds, restrained. His aunt scrambled to her feet, suddenly very alert and protesting loudly. But it was too late. Their act was over.

Dera didn't flinch. She held her cheek gently, but her eyes were steel. She stood up straight as the security guards dragged them toward the back exit and the police were called.

She turned, ignoring the chaos around her.

And that's when Richard stepped off the elevator.