After No More Keeping My Distance, I Don't Want Him

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Five years married, and I'd had enough of my husband Nat Gilbert and his need to avoid the appearance of favoritism.

When promotions came around, he said, To avoid any appearance of favoritism, I have to give you the lowest score.

The team lead position went to Diana Fox, who'd been with the company less than six months.

When bonuses were handed out, he said, "To avoid any appearance of favoritism, I can only give you two hundred dollars."

Diana Fox got a bonus of twenty thousand.

I forced down the bitterness in my chest. He didn't not love me. He was just being careful about appearances.

Until I lost the baby.

He said to me, "Rest two days and come back to work. You can't throw around your position as Mrs. Gilbert and do whatever you please."

Then he turned around and gave Diana Fox seven days of paid leave.

That was when I understood. He wasn't careful about appearances with everyone. His heart had leaned toward Diana Fox a long time ago.

This marriage of careful appearances, I didn't want it anymore.

Nat Gilbert sent a message: "Evelyn Winfield, you only had a miscarriage. It's not like you can't move."

"If I approved ten days or half a month off for you, it would start rumors in the company."

"You don't want people saying you climbed the ladder on your status as Mrs. Gilbert, do you?"

I looked at the message, and something uneasy stirred in me.

The day I lost the baby, he held my hand and said, aching, "Evelyn, don't be sad. We'll have children again someday."

"Right now the most important thing is getting your body back to health."

But the moment we got to the office, he turned back into the cold, impartial Mr. Gilbert.

He always said he didn't want the outside world to see only that I was Mrs. Gilbert, that it would eclipse what I'd earned.

Five years married, and I'd lost count of how many times he'd done this in the name of appearances.

I couldn't ride the elevator with him at the same time, couldn't sit at the same table for meals, and certainly couldn't walk beside him.

On projects, when the credit and the achievement were clearly mine, he would pretend not to see, for the sake of appearances.

When it came to promotions, he even used his one vote to block me from making director.

At any gathering, I could never be his partner. I was only a subordinate carrying his bag.

I replied, "Understood."

The sound of my coworkers gossiping reached me.

"Diana, Mr. Gilbert is so good to you. You got your period, and he gave you seven days of paid leave, just like that."

Diana Fox showed off the chat log on her phone. "Right? Mr. Gilbert even wrote out a whole list of things to watch for during my period."

Hearing them, the ache in my chest started up.

When I had my period, the most I ever heard from him was drink more hot water.

He'd said that to keep anyone from accidentally seeing our chats, even his replies had to stick strictly to a boss-and-subordinate tone.

So it turned out the chats with me were from a template, and what he sent Diana Fox was a little essay.

The dull, dragging pain low in my belly after the miscarriage was nothing next to the pain in my heart right now.

At the end of the workday, the sky suddenly opened into a downpour.

After a miscarriage, forget getting rained on, I couldn't take so much as a draft of wind.

Everyone was forced to wait at the company's front doors.

Then Nat Gilbert's car pulled up, and something moved in me.

He did still have me in his heart.

Nat Gilbert spoke, offhand. "I'll give you all a ride."

My steps caught without my meaning them to, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him looking at me.

My throat tightened. "Mr. Gilbert, I can't be out in the wind. Could I go first"

The next moment, one sentence shattered my ridiculous hope.

He cut me off. "Miss Winfield, you and I aren't going the same way."

Watching the exhaust trail from his car, I crouched down and wrapped my arms around myself.

My nose stung, and the tears came.

This so-called avoiding appearances, was it really for my good?

Back home, Nat Gilbert glanced at me, drenched and disheveled.

"I just didn't want them to find out we live in the same complex. That's the only reason I didn't drive you back."

He stood there with the look of a man ready to argue it out with me.

I gave a soft laugh. "I understand."

Then I noticed the ring on his hand.

To avoid appearances, he'd worn our wedding ring for only two hours, at the wedding itself.

I asked, my voice gone hoarse, "Didn't you say a ring gets in the way of work?"

He explained it away carelessly. "Lost a bet at the team retreat. Wearing the ring is the penalty."

I remembered that ring. It matched the one on Diana Fox's hand, a couple's pair.

Before I could answer, he picked up his coat and walked out without looking back.

"Something came up, I have to work late. I'll sleep at the office tonight. Don't wait up."

Less than half an hour later, a post popped up on social media.

Having someone rub my belly all night during my period is such bliss!

The photo attached was Nat Gilbert's hand, the ring on his finger.

Before, when I had my period, he always complained he could smell the rust of it and never once slept in the same bed as me.

But now, he could rub Diana Fox's belly all night.

In that moment, my heart died completely.

I opened the company app and submitted my resignation.

Nat came home before dawn, Diana's perfume on him.

My voice came out rough. "Where were you?"

He looked at my bloodless face and frowned, impatient. "You don't trust me?"

My nails bit into my palms. A short laugh slipped out.

Five years. Every single argument, he stopped my mouth with the same word: trust.

And nothing he ever did gave me an ounce of security.

I said it calmly. "Let's get divorced."

His voice went cold. "Evelyn, you'd blow up our marriage over two days off?"

"Fine. Once this project wraps, I'll take annual leave and make up our honeymoon."

"Divorce. I'm treating that as something you said in anger. Don't let me hear it again."

Then he changed his clothes and left straight for the office.

He didn't spare me a single glance.

Funny. Five years married, and I lost count of the times I brought up the honeymoon.

He always said coworkers would snap a photo of us, that we'd make it up once my work was recognized.

Now he'd finally remembered to make up that honeymoon.

But I didn't want it anymore.

At noon, Nat's voice snapped down the line, brows drawn tight. "Evelyn, when is the new proposal getting submitted? If you're not up to it, I'll put someone else on it."

Before, to prove myself, I stayed up night after night reworking that proposal, revising it over and over, and in the end he used Diana's.

He saw me lost in thought and his tone soured. "What is going on with your work ethic lately?"

"I'm tired. I'm taking the afternoon off."

"I'm not approving that."

I didn't argue. "Then you can fire me."

I set my badge down and walked out.

I didn't notice how livid Nat's face had gone.

Back home, I buried my head in the blankets and slept, heavily.

The dreams were strange and jumbled, dragging me back through five years with Nat.

Marry me, and I'll give you a kind of favor no one else gets.

I'll make sure you live well.

By evening a sharp pain twisted low in my belly. I thought I'd eaten something bad and went to the hospital.

The doctor's face was grave. "You just lost a pregnancy. Why aren't you taking care of yourself?"

"It wasn't cleared out fully last time. You need another post-miscarriage procedure. Have your husband come sign."

My voice was hoarse. "No need. I'll sign it myself."

Last time I'd called him more than a dozen times. Not one went through.

I only learned later that a project under Diana had hit a problem that day, and he'd gone himself to smooth it over with the client, drinking to apologize on her behalf.

But whenever I ran into trouble and went to him for help, all I ever got was one line: figure it out yourself.

That was when I understood. A man you can't lean on, you learn to stop leaning on.

After the procedure, I ran into Nat and Diana.

"Diana, no more cold stuff for you, understand? Your cramps put you in the hospital."

Diana played the girlfriend to the hilt. "With you here, it doesn't even hurt."

I hid in the shadows and watched them, as if I were the one who'd broken into someone else's marriage.

She really was lovely, eyes shining with tears, the kind of face that made you want to protect her.

One steady look from her and any man's protective instinct kicked in.

"Mr. Gilbert, will you rub my belly again tonight?"

Nat's lips curved. He was enjoying being needed.

"Of course. Didn't I already tell you? When no one's around, call me Nat."

Diana said it shyly. "Okay. Nat."

"Whoever gets to be your wife will be so happy."

His voice paused. "For her... it's only obligation."

I stood frozen where I was.

So he'd married me only because my brother had left me in his care.

His answer was a thorn, driving clean through my heart.

There'd been a time when he picked me up on rainy days, brought me flowers on Valentine's, draped a jacket over my shoulders...

Turned out I'd only been flattering myself.

I wiped my eyes and left, undone.

Your resignation is approved. Hand off your work within a week and go.

Nat had no idea I'd quit.

He'd made it clear once: nothing about work could go through me pulling rank as Mrs. Gilbert. No skipping the chain of command.

Even a simple question had to go by email, up through every level, exactly as procedure required.

I passed Diana's desk, and the photo pinned above it went straight through me like a splinter.

Diana smiled and explained. "Evelyn, this was from a business trip with Mr. Gilbert a month ago. He said you have to learn to relax when you travel."

A month ago, I'd been in a minor car accident. I'd called him.

His voice had been flat with impatience. "Evelyn, you're a grown woman. You can't even drive a car properly?"

"I'm out of town right now. What good is calling me? Can't you just phone the insurance company?"

Then he hung up. I was already shaken, and after that I only felt worse.

That accident was a big part of why I lost the baby.

It wasn't that he had no time. He was with Diana, at a Thai massage.

The women at the next desk had spotted the photo too, and they crowded around.

"Diana, Mr. Gilbert is so good to you. He even took you for a massage on a work trip."

"A massage, that's such an intimate thing. Mr. Gilbert must be into you."

My feet stopped where I stood.

Then the executive assistant came rushing in. "Good news, your team broke its numbers this month. Someone's getting promoted."

They all turned to Diana. "Diana, it's got to be you. You and Mr. Gilbert are so close."

Diana looked flustered. "How could it be me? Evelyn's got way more experience than I do."

I didn't respond. I just kept my head down and worked on my resignation checklist.

So what if it was me. So what if it wasn't.

In five years I'd filed ten reports applying for the director position. Every single one came back rejected.

Yet everyone knew the truth. Every month my numbers were the highest, I brought in the most new projects, I logged the most overtime.

At first I could accept Nat keeping his distance to avoid the appearance of favoritism.

Until later, when colleagues started asking, half-casually, "Evelyn, did you do something to upset Mr. Gilbert?"

I gave a bitter little smile, but I couldn't say a word.

I hadn't upset him. I'd only married him.

Keeping that distance was my duty as Mrs. Gilbert.

It was the first thing marriage taught me.

The HR director held my resignation form. "Evelyn, everyone here has seen what you've given over the years. Once this stamp goes down, there's no walking back everything you built."

"It's fine. I'll start over."

She didn't try to change my mind.

An hour before closing, a shabbily dressed middle-aged couple burst in.

"Heartless company! My son gets hurt on the job and you won't pay his medical bills. Where's the person in charge? Get out here!"

The man was about to strike Diana across the face.

Nat caught his arm.

"You cost my son a leg. I'll take a leg from you too."

Security scrambled to restrain them and clear the crowd.

Just as the man moved to seize Diana, Nat shoved me forward, and the man caught me with a knife.

"You give me an answer today, or I'm not letting this go."

His hands closed around my throat, and my face flushed crimson.

I looked at Nat.

But there wasn't a trace of the panic from a moment ago. "I told you, your son's injury has nothing to do with this company."

"Even if you strangle her to death, I won't ruin the company's reputation for one person."

So it turned out that to him, my life and death didn't even measure up to the company's reputation.

The moment he shoved me toward the window, security burst in and pulled him off.

Nat's first move was to grab Diana's hand. "It's okay, it's okay, don't be scared."

A coworker gasped. "Evelyn, are you all right? You're bleeding so much."

Nat gave me one flat glance. "Evelyn, go register and get yourself checked. The company will cover the medical bills. I'll take Diana home first."

A second later a message landed on my phone. "Evelyn, if I take you to the hospital, people will definitely misread our relationship."

I replied, "Understood."

He didn't spare it a thought.

Ignoring every stare in the room, he scooped up Diana and left.

Late that night, Nat came back.

"Evelyn?"

I didn't answer. He called again.

Any other time, I'd have been waiting at the door long before he arrived, ready to take his coat.

I spoke evenly. "Nat, I've already signed the divorce agreement."

He froze, his voice going stiff. "You're sulking? Just because I didn't take you to the hospital?"

"Do you have any idea how much it would hurt the company if Diana got hurt?"

My voice came out hoarse. "And if I get hurt it doesn't matter?"

"As Mrs. Gilbert, giving a little for the company is nothing."

As Mrs. Gilbert, I'd gotten not one bit of good out of it.

And now that something had gone wrong, I was the one who had to take the hit.

"Evelyn, tomorrow the company will officially appoint you as director."

"And don't bring up the divorce again."

The director's seat I couldn't earn no matter how hard I worked.

I'd gotten it now, in the most laughable way.

The next day, the second I walked into the company, every eye turned on me with that strange look.

"Did you hear? Turns out Diana is Mr. Gilbert's secret wife."

"Evelyn saved Diana and got bumped straight up to director. If I'd known, I would've..."

Hearing them spin their story, I couldn't hold back anymore. I pulled out the marriage certificate.

"I'm Nat's wife. Not the mistress!"

The whole room went quiet for a second.

Then someone spoke up. "Hilarious. Who knows if that certificate's even real."

"Maybe you're just jealous of Diana and faked it on purpose."

Furious, I went to confront Nat head-on.

"Nat, I'm asking you one last time. Am I your wife or not?"

To my surprise he frowned and snapped in a low voice, "Evelyn, this is the office."

Then he turned to clarify it for everyone. "Whatever's between you and me, it can only be a clean working relationship."

The coworkers' laughter broke out. "What a daydreamer, thinking a crow can turn into a phoenix!"

"Never thought Evelyn was that kind of person, trying to latch onto Mr. Gilbert."

In that moment, my dignity was ground into the dirt.

I dragged the corner of my mouth into a smile. "Fine. As you wish."

I gathered my things in silence.

This time, I was walking out of his life for good.

The housekeeper called in. "Mr. Gilbert, this is bad!"

"Mrs. Gilbert left behind a finalized divorce agreement, and then... she left."

Nat let out a scoffing laugh. "What's she pulling now, the running-away-from-home act again?"

"Let her go. Tell her, even if she comes crawling back on her knees begging me, I won't remarry her."

I'd just reached the door, and I heard it clearly through the housekeeper's speakerphone.

I answered softly. "Okay."

Nat, now we truly have nothing to do with each other.