Fading Echoes

Dos

Third Person

Days passed after that night, and the distance between the couple only grew. Greggy often came home late at night, sometimes finding Irene asleep on the couch, waiting for him.

He couldn't deny that seeing Irene worried about him gave him a certain comfort. But it wasn't enough to convince him that they could fix things—that everything could go back to how it once was.

Greggy was in his office, busy with work, when his secretary knocked on the door.

"Sir, Miss Irene called earlier. She asked about your schedule for tomorrow. I told her you have a meeting with some foreign investors in the morning."

Greggy looked at his secretary, confused. Why would she contact Grace instead of me? he thought before dismissing her.

He immediately called Irene, but she didn't pick up. After several tries, she finally answered.

"Hello? Greg?" Irene's soft voice greeted him, and he couldn't help but feel a bit touched. It had been a while since she called his name like that.

"Where are you?" he asked, leaning back in his swivel chair, staring at an old picture of the two of them, unable to recall when it was taken.

"I'm with Liv. We're at Rockwell. Why?" Irene responded. He pursed his lips before composing himself and asking her the question on his mind.

"Grace told me you asked about my schedule for tomorrow. Why did you ask her instead of me? You could've just asked me directly," Greggy said, waiting for her reply.

There was a brief silence before Irene spoke again. "I didn't want to disturb you at work. It's your working hours, right? I thought you might be in an important meeting," she reasoned.

Greggy massaged his temples and sighed before responding. "You're my wife, Irene. What kind of reasoning is that? Of cour—" He stopped mid-sentence, cleared his throat, and changed the subject.

"Why did you ask about my schedule? Is there something I'm missing?" He asked, absentmindedly twirling a pen in his hand.

"Daddy was asking if we could have dinner at the house tomorrow. It's Friday, and Mama and Papa are also coming," Irene explained, referring to Greggy's parents.

"Alright, sure."

"That's all. I need to go now; we still have some errands to run," Irene said. Greggy nodded as though she could see him.

"Okay, I've got a meeting in a bit too," he replied. He wanted to tell her to take care, to say the words he used to say, but something always stopped him.

"Bye..." Irene softly said before hanging up.

Greggy came home late again that night. To his surprise, once more, Irene was asleep on the couch, a book in her hands. The lights were dim, and a cup of tea sat untouched on the table.

He quietly placed his things on the other couch and approached his wife, a small smile forming on his lips. He gently brushed aside a few strands of hair that had fallen across her face. She stirred slightly, making him chuckle. He glanced at the clock—it was 11:40 PM.

He was about to wake her when he noticed the book she was holding. It was a photo album. He wasn't sure how to feel seeing it in her hands again. Instead of waking her, he went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

When he returned, she was still sound asleep. He went upstairs to their bedroom to get a blanket. The room hadn't changed since the last time he slept there—everything was exactly how it had been. It was clear that Irene hadn't touched most of his things in the room either. After grabbing the blanket, he returned downstairs.