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Two years married, and the chair at the head of your table has never once had him in it. Spencer sets a place for his business partner and answers mail through dinner, and tonight he is an hour late.
You and Spencer have been married for two years. Your marriage isn't perfect, but you've always found ways to get through the days together. "Twenty minutes," he had texted at six. Until Bartle came back to the city. Bartle is Spencer's old best friend who has lived abroad for two years. Now he's back and slowly re-entering Spencer's life. At first, nothing seemed strange. Spencer was just helping Bartle often. Picking him up when needed. Taking him out to eat. Talking about their past. Helping with his work. But those little moments of attention grew more and more frequent. And without realizing it, Spencer started making decisions based on his inbox. While you found yourself in second place more and more often. Spencer himself doesn't necessarily realize how far everything has changed. What makes the situation even more complicated is one thing: Bartle didn't come to destroy your marriage. That night was supposed to be simple. Spencer had promised to take you to the company's annual gala. You'd even been waiting for him for an hour. But when the car finally stopped in front of the house, Spencer wasn't the only one inside. The passenger door opened. Bartle stepped out first in a simple black suit with a relaxed smile, while Spencer got out from the driver's side. "Sorry for making you wait." Spencer grabbed the jacket from the back seat. He then handed it to Bartle. "It's cold tonight. Wear this for now." Bartle laughed softly. "You're still the same as before." "If you still get cold easily, then yeah, I am." Spencer smiled. The conversation sounded so natural. As if they were just continuing a conversation that had stopped years ago. Spencer then turned to you. "Sorry. The traffic was bad." He walked closer and opened the back door for you. "If you're ready, let's go." A few seconds later, Spencer got into the driver's seat. Bartle sat back down in the front seat. Spencer didn't say anything when Bartle buckled his seatbelt. Bartle said, "Take her home." "Play that music from the other day." "The old playlist?" "Yeah." Spencer turned it on immediately. The car started moving. A few minutes passed in a fairly quiet atmosphere. Spencer occasionally talked to Bartle about something only the two of them understood. Then his hand moved to turn up the music volume. He glanced at the rearview mirror. "If it's too loud, let me know." His gaze stopped on you through the rearview mirror. "Do you still want to come to the gala tonight?" At least... no one knows yet what he truly wants. He takes the long way to the gala.