I'm Just a Half‑Hour on His Calendar

Marcus Bane opened his study door at 7:03 pm. "No update today?"

I was sitting at the dining table.

Today was our third wedding anniversary. I'd booked a restaurant a month ago, but that afternoon, he canceled, saying that his project meeting had been pushed back.

I didn't mind staying home since he didn't like wasting time commuting. I made soup, fried some eggs, and bought a little cake.

Marcus glanced at the time. It was still 7:03 pm. "You still have 27 minutes."

I looked at him, suddenly unsure where to start.

Should I tell him that my stomach hurt so badly last night that I knocked on his door, only to be told that my time was up? Or that I woke up in the middle of the night and saw him revising a proposal for Cindy Moore?

Marcus furrowed his brows at the long silence. He hated losing control. In his eyes, projects, meetings, and our marriage should be settled within a fixed time.

“Juniper, don't give me the silent treatment to get more time."

I put down my cutlery. "What if I never take up any of your time again?"

Marcus looked up at me, barely sparing me a glance. It was as if he were looking at a calendar reminder that had suddenly gone wrong. "That means you're starting to act mature."

I flinched as the bowl burned my fingers.

Marcus noticed my reaction. He took a tissue and handed it to me. "Run them under water. Don't get the table wet."

I didn't take it.

Just then, his phone rang. Cindy was video-calling, and Marcus answered right away.

Cindy's eyes were red. A pile of documents lay spread on the table in front of her. "Mr. Bane, I'm sorry. I misunderstood the client's requirements again. I'm really stupid, right?"

Marcus' frosty expression softened. "Send me your address. I'll go over."

I said quietly, "My time isn't up yet."

His fingers paused halfway through grabbing his jacket. "Cindy's issue is work-related."

I glanced at the jacket in his hands, my throat tightening. "What about me?"

Marcus turned to look at me, his voice almost gentle. "You're my wife. You shouldn't compete with my work for time."

I laughed. So being a wife didn't mean I would be favored. It just meant I would be expected to be understanding.

Marcus started toward the foyer, then suddenly turned back and grabbed the cake, but I instinctively held the box down.

"This is our cake."

He looked at my hand, his voice soft but firm. "She's been working all this time without eating, and she has low blood sugar. Juniper, you can buy a cake anytime, but the project can't be delayed."

Marcus was almost at the door when I finally couldn't hold it in anymore. "Marcus, today's our wedding anniversary."

He rested his hand on the doorknob and turned to look at me. "That's why I asked you about it at 7:00 pm."

I froze.

Marcus didn't seem to notice any problem with what he said. "Juniper, I didn't forget. I already gave you time."

The door closed, and I laughed.

I finally realized one thing. To him, our anniversary wasn't about spending time with me. It was about proving he hadn't shortchanged me.