The Night I Left, He Turned Grey

"So, Sarah Lynch is back. What are you going to do about your wife?"

Standing just outside the slightly ajar front door, Leila Jennings could hear her husband, Sean Sinclair, talking with his best friend. She had just gotten home from work, and her hand froze mid-reach for the door.

Sarah Lynch? That was the name of the external consultant who had been suddenly dropped into their project two weeks ago. What a coincidence.

Inside, Sean was quiet.

"Look, Sean, I’m not trying to meddle," his friend pressed, "but you’ve never really gotten over her. You pinch pennies everywhere else, yet you’ve been quietly wiring her 417,000 a month to fund her research. Now she’s back, she’s finished her studies, and she’s landed a role as a special consultant on a classified national project. If you can get her to spill even a hint about the bidding process, your position as President of Stellaxis Technologies is locked in. No one could touch you."

Leila’s head snapped up. Her eyes went wide with disbelief. She had to have misheard. 417,000 dollars a month?

Sean only gave her 417 dollars a month. There was no way he was giving another woman that kind of money.

But every word from inside the room hit her with brutal clarity—and Sean never denied a single one. The weight of it crushed her chest. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, Sean stood up and glanced at his watch. "I don’t want to put her in an awkward position. Anyway, I need to go pick Sarah up from work. Don’t worry about the mess on the table—Leila will clean it up when she gets home."

"Honestly, Sean, look at your wife. She keeps the house immaculate, takes care of your parents and your sister without complaint, and never gives you a hard time. Doesn’t any of that mean something to you?"

Leila held her breath, straining to hear his answer. Sean’s voice came back flat and indifferent.

"I’ve never been attracted to women like Leila—the good wife, the devoted homemaker, the one who lives for the kitchen and her husband. I’ve always preferred accomplished women like Sarah—brilliant, career-driven, independent."

His words cut through her like a blade. Her eyes burned red, and her hands began to tremble at her sides.

"Then why did you pursue Leila in the first place? Why marry her?"

"Because Sarah left me to study abroad."

"So you married Leila just to get back at Sarah?"

Sean said nothing. His silence was answer enough.

"Now that Sarah’s back, are you planning to divorce Leila?"

Sean fell quiet again. After a long pause, he finally spoke, "You’re right—Leila takes good care of me. I haven’t had stomach problems in two years, and she handles everything for my mother and sister. I’ve never had to worry about a thing at home."

Sean hadn’t inherited his position as President of Stellaxis Technologies—he’d clawed his way up. Years of nonstop business dinners and endless drinking had wrecked his stomach by the time he made it to the top. Leila’s heart had ached for him.

Every morning, she woke an hour early to make him a gentle, stomach-friendly breakfast. Every evening, she rushed home before five to start simmering soup, waiting for him to come back so they could eat together.

If he worked late, she’d personally bring the meal to his office before hurrying back to her own research institute.

They had been married for four years. For four years, this had been her life. Until today, when the institute’s Self-Developed Chip project finally succeeded after four grueling years. The technology was heading into public bidding, and once commercialized, it would bring enormous benefits to both the country and its people.

As the project’s lead researcher, Leila was due not only a generous bonus but also a national-level commendation. She had been so excited to share the news with Sean.

On the drive home, she’d even been daydreaming about what expensive gift to buy him with her bonus—something worthy of Sean Sinclair’s status.

But now, all she heard him say was, "A brilliant, accomplished woman like Sarah shouldn’t be weighed down by marriage and household chores. I couldn’t stand to see that happen to her."

’So that’s the difference between love and indifference,’ Leila thought. Tears streamed down her face, the saltiness hitting her lips.

Then came the sound of footsteps heading toward the door. Leila quickly stepped back and slipped around the corner.

Only after the footsteps faded did she slowly push the door open and step inside. The coffee table was a wreck. To Sean, she wasn’t his wife—she was the help.

She couldn’t bring herself to clean it up. Exhaustion washed over her, and all she wanted was to lie down. But sleep wouldn’t come. Lying in bed, the memories surfaced one after another.

The first time she met Sean, he’d been standing alone in the rain, and she’d happened to have an umbrella. The second time, she’d been sprinting for a bus when he happened to drive by.

After that, they kept running into each other everywhere. When her mentor passed away, Sean was by her side. When she visited the orphanage where she grew up, Sean came with her. When her project was shut down and she lost her job, he held her in his arms, told her everything would be okay, and proposed. When she ended up as a low-paid clerk making 550 a month, Sean just smiled, ruffled her hair, and told her that was impressive too.

She didn’t fall asleep until well past two in the morning.

At six, her body woke on autopilot. Time to make her husband breakfast.

But when she opened her eyes, exhaustion still clung to her. She turned her head—the other side of the bed was cold. The guest bed hadn’t been touched either.

Sean hadn’t come home last night.

Just as she was lost in thought, the keypad lock clicked at the front door. Leila turned to see Sean walk in. He handed her his jacket like he always did, then leaned in as if to hug her—but stopped himself. "I was at a reunion with old friends last night. I reek of smoke and booze. Better not get too close."

Normally, when Sean came home from a dinner, he’d wrap his arms around her first thing—he said it made him feel like he was finally home.

But now, Leila realized the last time he’d hugged her was two weeks ago. For the past two weeks, even when they shared a bed, they’d been separated by an invisible distance. She’d told herself he was just exhausted. Too tired for even a hug.

But two weeks ago was exactly when Sarah Lynch returned. The signs had been there all along.

She lowered her gaze, her lashes hiding the hurt in her eyes.

Sean sat down on the sofa, glanced at the messy coffee table, and asked, "Why didn’t you clean this up?"

"I wasn’t feeling well yesterday. I went straight to bed."

Leila caught a faint sour smell in the air—she hated clutter. She crouched down and started clearing the table anyway. "I won’t have time to make breakfast after this. You’ll have to get something yourself."

Sean immediately sensed something was off.

For four years, unless he was on a business trip, Leila had always cooked for him. Every meal had at least four dishes and a soup, and she never repeated the menu.

What was wrong with her this morning?

"Are you upset because I didn’t come home last night?" His tone softened. "Honey?"

That word—"Honey"—only made her heart ache more. Sean had always been charming and gentle. Back when they were dating, he’d once leaned close and whispered, "My sweet little wife," in her ear, making her blush. But she’d made him promise not to use it until they were actually married.

Sean had respected that. The next time he called her "honey" was on their wedding night. And ever since, it had rarely left his lips.

"Come on, don’t be mad." Sean smiled and reached out to ruffle her hair. "See? I listened to you. Even out with friends, I didn’t drink. If you don’t feel like cooking, leave it. I’m going to grab a shower."

"Mhm." She didn’t even look up.

Sean frowned. "You’re acting weird today."

"Didn’t sleep well," she said, forcing a faint smile. "Go take your shower."

At that, Sean pulled a silk scarf from his pocket—the designer logo made it clear it wasn’t cheap.

"Saw this last night and thought it would look good on you," he said, heading toward the bathroom.

Leila stared at the scarf for a long moment, then slipped it into her worn blue tie-dyed cloth bag and left for work.

The Self-Developed Chip project had been shelved after her mentor’s death. When it restarted, Leila became the core lead. Because of strict confidentiality agreements, her mentor’s wife had set her up with a nominal administrative role at The Cole Group.

Her husband had always believed she was just a low-level clerk making 550 a month.

In reality, every morning Leila left home, went to The Cole Group, entered through the east gate, walked across the massive tech campus, and exited through the west gate, where the institute’s driver would be waiting.

She spent her days in the lab, but today her mind was elsewhere. As evening fell, Professor Cheney finally broke the silence. "Are you upset about having to have dinner with Ms. Lynch tonight?"

Leila looked up. "Sarah Lynch?"

The professor blinked in surprise. "You actually remember her. I thought you didn’t notice anyone except your husband. Everyone else has met her already—you two are the only ones who haven’t. If you keep avoiding her, people will start to talk."

Leila frowned slightly. When she’d first met Sean, she’d sensed he was still carrying the weight of a broken heart. But she’d never known who it was for.

She’d never asked—she didn’t want to poke at old wounds. In four years of marriage, Sean had never once mentioned that person either, as if she’d never existed. Leila had convinced herself it was all in the past. Everyone has a history.

It wasn’t until yesterday that she learned the truth. Sean had never forgotten her—he’d been quietly bankrolling Sarah all these years, pouring money and effort into her career.

Leila said nothing. Professor Cheney pressed his lips together, letting out a quiet sigh. He knew Leila had strong reservations about Ms. Lynch. This project had been Leila’s mentor’s life’s work, and now it was hers—it was understandable she wouldn’t want an outsider swooping in to share the glory.

Making Leila go to dinner with Sarah was a lot to ask.

Still, he couldn’t help but advise: "You shouldn’t turn it down this time, or Mr. Jacobs will be unhappy."

Mr. Jacobs was the highest authority at the research institute—and Sarah Lynch’s grandfather. Leila had only found out by overhearing her assistant’s gossip.

The whole team was less than thrilled about Sarah’s sudden arrival. She was certainly impressive, but so was everyone who’d earned a place at the institute.

For four years, they’d all worked relentlessly on this project. They were just a month or two away from the official announcement. But now Sarah shows up as a so-called "Expert," having contributed nothing to the development, yet poised to take credit. It felt worse than being forced to add an extra co-author to a paper at the last minute.

That’s why Leila had kept the "Expert" away from the core area. And since she always left the institute right after work, Sarah had never managed to meet her.

Standing at the one-way glass, Leila looked out and watched Sarah take off her lab coat, slip on a brown leather trench coat, flip back her chestnut hair, and sling an expensive white alligator-skin bag over her shoulder—the same brand as the scarf Sean had given her that morning.

Leila pulled the scarf out of her bag. Something inside her snapped. She could feel it—something wasn’t right.

Just then, her assistant Chloe knocked and walked in. Her gaze landed on the scarf in Leila’s hand, and she blinked.

"Leila... did you use your bonus to buy a bag from that brand?"

"No." Leila looked at her, confused. "I didn’t buy the bag."

Chloe nodded. "Oh, okay. I saw the scarf and thought you’d bought a bag. Scarves from that brand usually come as a set with the bag." 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

"A set?" Leila’s heart tightened at the words.