The plane took off, then finally landed. Janet could feel it—Charles wasn't indifferent at all. In that familiar city, there were people he hated, and people he cared about. And now, by his side, there was her.
"Husband, we're home!" Janet's slender fingers intertwined with his large hand, their lifelines connecting in a way no one could separate. She rested her head lightly on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his cologne as the plane touched down.
Giles was there to pick them up, as always. Charles sat quietly with his eyes closed in the backseat—not asleep, but deep in thought. Janet caught Giles' gaze in the rearview mirror and smiled softly.
"Giles, please take us to the hospital first," she said gently.
"Yes, ma'am," Giles replied politely. Though his position in the company outranked Janet's, he still instinctively called her "ma'am," out of respect for Charles' wife.
