“Why are you back?” Amanda looked up, surprise in her voice.

“Just wrapped up a project. The boss gave us a week off. Back to work next week.” Mike set down his luggage.

The room smelled faintly of detergent and dampness. His mother-in-law was mopping the floor with a bucket of cloudy water.

“Mom, why haven’t you changed the water again? How many times have I told you?” Amanda snapped, giving her mother no room to save face.

She turned to Mike. “I brought Mom here to help with the baby and cooking. At least she’s not home arguing with Dad.”

“Your dad’s still the same?” Mike asked.

“Drinks all day. Drives me crazy,” her mother muttered under her breath.

The baby’s cries spilled out from the bedroom. Amanda grabbed her bag and said quickly, “Mom, Mike and I are going out. Don’t just feed yourself—watch the baby. If he falls or something, we’ll end up in the hospital.” Before she’d even finished, she was halfway out the door.

The mall’s air-conditioning swept over them, cool against the lingering summer heat. Amanda moved from one store to the next with a restless energy.

“This down jacket is gorgeous. It’d look perfect on you,” she declared, holding up a thick coat.

“It’s summer, and we live in the South. I’ll never wear it,” Mike frowned.

“What do you know? It’s a world-famous brand. Half-price in summer—we’d be stupid not to buy it.” She passed it to the clerk without hesitation.

Store after store, the shopping bags piled high in Mike’s hands. He followed silently, like a shadow at her heels.

“My mom even teased me for buying too many baby clothes.” Amanda waved a tiny shirt with pride. “She’s just used to being poor. She doesn’t get it. This fabric is so soft—it’ll feel amazing for the baby.”

“Babies grow fast,” Mike murmured.

Amanda barely heard him, already chattering about skirts, handbags, and diets, her words tumbling out like an endless stream. Mike listened quietly, his gaze sometimes drifting away. For a fleeting moment, he recalled Lea by the river—her quiet presence, the calm she carried without needing words.

The Japanese restaurant was hushed and refined. Amanda skimmed the menu, her finger landing on the priciest dishes.

“The deluxe sashimi platter, foie gras sushi, and grilled cod.”

“Wouldn’t the standard platter be enough for us?” Mike suggested gently.

“Saving your secret money for another woman?” Amanda shot him a sidelong glance, half teasing, half testing.

When the food arrived, she took photos before eating, savoring small bites, her eyes curling into crescents.

“This foie gras sushi is amazing. Try it.” She placed one on his plate.

Mike smiled faintly as he ate, though a dull ache pressed in his chest. He thought back to when they first met—how a single look from her had once filled him with wordless warmth.

That night, the lights went dark. Only their breathing lingered in the quiet.

“It’s not right, the way you always boss your mom around,” Mike said softly.

“She’s careless. If I don’t stay on her, who will?” Amanda brushed it off, then changed the subject. “So, did you wash up yet?”

Mike held her, emotions knotting—frustration, guilt, resistance. The rhythm Lotus had once shown him only drew Amanda’s impatience now.

“Are you doing gymnastics? Hurry up.” Amanda’s voice carried its usual sharp edge.

Mike gave in, shifting back to the pace she was used to. As expected, it was over too quickly.

“God, you’re so fast,” she complained. “I was just starting to feel something.”

She sat up suddenly, eyes narrowing. “You’re not seeing someone else, are you?”

“What are you talking about? I’ve always been like this,” Mike sighed.

“You’re gone for so long—how do you even hold back? How do you deal with it?”

“I take care of it myself.”

“If you really can’t, go see a prostitute. Just use protection. But you must never see another woman.” Amanda’s tone was firm, almost cold, as she lay back down.

Mike let out a dry laugh. “You’re strange, telling me to do that.”

“Men have needs. It’s normal,” Amanda replied flatly. “But mistresses? They’ll bleed you dry.”

Mike’s chest tightened, and bitterness spilled into his words. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m so quick, that woman liked it.”

“You weren’t this fast when we first got together,” Amanda shot back.

“Maybe I’m just tired from all the driving,” Mike said quietly, dodging.

He couldn’t explain the true meaning of “slow first, then fast,” nor did he dare to. Amanda’s stubborn strength had left little room for honest conversation.

“Forget it. Let’s sleep. Tomorrow I’ll have Mom stew some turtle soup for you.” Amanda turned away.

In the darkness, Mike lay awake, an invisible weight on his chest. The mess of daily life left little space to breathe, yet they both pretended it was whole. Still, his thoughts wandered back to the river breeze, to the laughter on the ski slopes—places where, for a moment, he had felt free.