Chapter 0001

"Morning, my love," Liz chirped, entering the kitchen.

Joe looked up from the newspaper he'd laid out on the table and placed his coffee mug down. He maintained a stoic expression while observing her traverse the kitchen, her lengthy blonde locks still moist from her shower, her pink silk kimono casually fastened at her waist.

Approaching the table, she inclined her head and softly inquired, "Are you maintaining your silence towards me?" Her tone held a hint of childish disappointment.

He observed her approach, his jaw clenching firmly.

Standing by his chair, she reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Please," she cooed, bending down and trailing her fingers over to his other shoulder. Her arm now rested on his shoulders, and she gently blew a kiss on his right temple. "Don't remain this way…"

Her kimono draped loosely around her, and her posture granted an unhindered view as she bent down. Joe observed this momentarily before meeting her gaze. Did she genuinely believe this tactic was still effective? It seemed so. He sensed her warm breath by his ear as her fingers sensually traced his shirt collar. Her thumb playfully ventured up to the nape of his neck, while her other fingers flirtatiously extended toward his cheek, clearly aiming to coax him into facing her.

"Stop it, Liz," he muttered sharply and swiftly turned his head away from her touch. "Just give me some space!"

"Darling, please," she giggled nervously and leaned against the table. "This is ridiculous! It's Saturday, and you've been upset for too long!" She reached out to caress his face once more.

Joe averted his gaze. "Please, stop," he said, pushing the chair back and standing up swiftly. "I suppose you're finished in the bathroom and the bedroom for now?" Without waiting for a response, he strode out of the kitchen, through the hallway, and into the bedroom.

He yanked the curtains apart forcefully and threw the windows wide open. The persistent odor of alcohol and smoke lingered in the room. It was evident that she had arrived home intoxicated around 2 AM last night. Pretending to be fast asleep on the couch, he had heard her stumbling around, and the room's atmosphere bore witness to her condition. Her crumpled cocktail dress lay on his side of the bed.

Expressing his disgust with a growl, he grabbed the dress from the bed and angrily tossed it onto her side, likely the source of the lingering smoky scent.

Joe made his way to the closet and nearly stumbled on one of her high-heeled sandals. He gave it a nudge, sending it skidding under the bed.

He retrieved his compact business trip suitcase from the upper closet shelf and placed it on the bed. In his peripheral vision, he noticed Liz standing in the doorway. Her earlier pout had transformed into a furious scowl. She whispered, "How much longer will you keep this up?"

Joe paid no attention to her and proceeded to open the suitcase, filling it with various clothing items. He neatly placed a couple of folded dress shirts, a pair of dress shoes, a set of sneakers, two ties, a pair of jeans, two polo shirts, along with socks and underwear to last four days. His suit and another pair of slacks were already safely stored in a suit bag hanging behind the door.

Liz couldn't help but express her frustration, saying, "So you really insist on packing right now, do you?"

Joe responded without looking up from his task, muttering, "Just leave me be."

Unfazed, Liz continued, "You're not leaving until tomorrow, so why the rush?"

With a cold tone, Joe replied, "The flight departs today at two."

Liz, surprised, questioned, "Since when?"

Joe retorted, "Does it matter?"

"Have you made any changes? Are you really planning to leave when things are so messed up between us?"

"Just give me a moment to pack, okay!"

"You're acting like a real jerk!"

He scoffed. "Certainly."

For a moment, he thought she might lunge at him with raised fists, but instead, she angrily stomped her foot, tightened her kimono, and pulled her belt so tightly that the knot seemed impossible to undo. Joe suspected she might need to cut it off if she ever wanted to remove her kimono.

"This is the final peace offering you'll receive from me," she hissed.

"Oh, no!" he exclaimed.

He quickly zipped up the suitcase and placed it by the bed on the carpet. Returning to the closet, he retrieved his large duffle bag, aware of her gaze as he set it on the bed. He began to pack the bag, placing a few folded T-shirts, two cotton sweaters, additional socks, and underwear, enough to last for approximately eight days.

Her voice suddenly took on a sharp tone, "What on earth do you need all that for? It's just a three-day business trip!"

Joe turned to face her, looking her directly in the eyes. "So?"

A moment of silence hung in the air as Liz simply stared at him. He turned back around, pulled out two pairs of shorts from a drawer, folded them in half, and added them to the bag as well.

"What's the meaning of this?" she snapped as she entered the bedroom.

Struggling to maintain his composure, Joe rolled up a belt and discreetly stowed it in his bag amidst the socks.

"Joe!?" she shouted. "Give me an explanation!"

"It's not that difficult to grasp, Liz."

"Ah, I understand," she sneered. "You're aiming for some genuine drama, aren't you?"

"Me???" He gave her a perplexed look and shook his head. "Do me a favor, Liz, go have breakfast or whatever. Just let me be!"

While he moved around the room, gathering and packing a few more items, Liz ranted about how much she despised him and how he was the worst thing to ever cross her path. He refrained from reciprocating the sentiment, even though it would have been spot-on. Instead, he continued with his packing.

"You're insane!" she hissed, her disbelief palpable. "You can't simply leave!"

Looking up at her, Joe emitted a bitter laugh. "Just watch me!"

"This is utterly absurd!" she shouted.

"I've reached my limit, Liz," he retorted sharply. "That's it! You need help, and I need to escape from here!"

"There's nothing wrong with me!" she screamed. "You're the one who... Oh, just go then!" She threw her hands in the air. "I don't need you!"

"Fine!" Joe flattened the bag's contents with his left hand and assessed the limited space remaining.

He had barely turned back to his dresser when she suddenly lunged at him from behind, catching him off guard. Her hands, like claws, shot towards his face, and he winced as her fingernails dug into his left shoulder, causing him pain.

"You're such an ass...!" she exclaimed, frustration in her voice. "You told me this was just another business trip! And now..."

He forcefully pulled his shoulder free from her grip, his response edged with irritation. "Well, it is just another business trip," he muttered through clenched teeth. "I won't be returning here afterward. But since you've made it clear how much you hate me, I'm sure you'll be relieved to see me go. Oh, and by the way," he added with a feigned friendliness, "Eric isn't joining me. Just in case you need someone to keep you warm..."

Without waiting for another confrontation, he turned and retreated into the bathroom to retrieve some belongings.

She trailed behind him, uttering offensive words under her breath.

After a brief pause, it seemed to occur to her that he was entirely unresponsive. So, she altered her approach and tears welled up in her eyes.

Joe struggled to avoid mimicking her.

"If this is regarding Eric..." she stammered, her voice trembling with sobs.

"I couldn't care less about what you do with Eric, Bob, or the person from upstairs..."

"Well, and that..." She almost choked on her words, gesturing toward the cast on his right hand. "I didn't intend for that to happen."

"Right," he cleared his throat and continued organizing his toiletries from the medicine cabinet.

"Well, believe whatever you like, you jerk!" Liz yelled, forcefully striking her hand against the pristine doorframe. She furiously scraped her fingernails across the paint, prompting Joe to nervously check the floor for any damage, but surprisingly, there was none. However, the doorframe now bore a few pink streaks from her nail polish.

Joe merely shrugged as he zipped up his toiletry case. After a brief scan of the room, he decided to grab a shampoo bottle from the shower.

Meanwhile, Liz slumped into a chair outside the bathroom, tears streaming down her face as she buried her head in her hands.

Joe passed by her and headed back to his bag. Perhaps two years ago, her crying might have still affected him as she intended. However, their relationship had reached a point where he had become desensitized to her tears. They no longer had the power to soften him; in fact, there were times when her dramatic sobbing had infuriated him even more than her shouting and ranting.

Before he met her, he had never experienced such intense anger. Their fights had pushed him to the brink of losing control, and she had a knack for pushing his buttons. Yet, he knew that letting her provoke him to the point of physical aggression would lead to a different kind of disaster.

Over time, he had developed a sort of immunity to her craziness and provocations. He liked to think of it as a protective shield against her emotional venom, but sometimes his own newfound calmness and indifference frightened him more than his past anger and efforts to contain it ever had. The anger had been a natural response to their circumstances, but his current apathy, no matter what she said or did, was anything but normal.

"I understand why you're in such a rush to reach Amsterdam," Liz interjected, interrupting his thoughts. "There's someone you're eager to see..."

Joe responded with a bitter laugh, saying, "Now, who's talking? Just stop, Liz. The one thing I'm truly looking forward to in Amsterdam is some peace and quiet."

As Liz retaliated with more harsh words and hurtful attacks, punctuated by sobs, Joe realized that maintaining his composure was becoming increasingly challenging. His protective barrier, though strong, was starting to show cracks, much like a raincoat in a heavy downpour.

The drama had stretched on for days, and Liz's hostility had been consistently excessive, even by her own standards. Their conflict had persisted since his return from a business trip two and a half weeks ago. Three days later, the situation, particularly Liz's behavior, had spiraled out of control.

When he came back from the emergency room that night, he had made a firm decision: he was ending it. He was departing, and it was a decision he should have made long ago.