The Weekend Lover Who Turns Out to Be My Boss

We returned to the place where we first met—the same table, the same two cups of coffee, even the waiter serving us remained unchanged. I reached out to gently trace the wedding ring on her finger. It felt like a dream, and I was relieved I didn’t have to wake from it. Having her is the greatest success of my life. I’ve walked the brink of death and lingered by the bridge of forgetfulness, but each time, I couldn’t bear to leave. I feared that if I were gone, no one else would ever unlock the door to her heart again. She’s still sharp and cutting; I’m still devoted and infatuated. Good—that’s enough. Everything began in absurdity and settled into calm. Hateful, pitiable figures have all scattered like birds and beasts into the past. Only we remained—neither of us ever left. This is our human comedy.