In the end, Timothy left without a word.
Yates couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy as he watched Timothy’s lonely figure retreat in his wheelchair.
“Vince, you really went too far this time,” Yates said, turning to his friend. “You’re older than Timothy, and you’ve made plenty of money. Couldn’t you have cut him some slack? Besides, you’re the one stealing his wife.”
Yates didn’t know the whole story. He was speaking as a friend, and in his mind, Vince was clearly in the wrong. No matter the current state of Timothy and Jessica’s marriage, they were still husband and wife.
“What do you know?” Vince shot back. “You really think it’s fine for a married man to treat another woman better than his own wife? You think that’s okay?”
“That’s a question of personal morals, not a crime. Even if it was, that’s what courts are for. You don’t get to play the hero here. And don’t try to make yourself sound noble—what you’re doing isn’t any better. If you think Timothy’s wrong for treating Sheila better than Jessica, then what does that make you for going after his wife?”
“I’m not stealing his wife. He’s the one pushing her away.”
“That doesn’t mean you should be the one to catch her,” Yates argued, exasperated. “You really want to be the guy who picks up the pieces? Even if you like her, at least wait until Timothy’s divorced. Honestly, he’s been incredibly patient with you—he’s put up with more than most would. If someone treated us this way, we’d have thrown punches already, wouldn’t we?”
“I’m done discussing this. I really can’t figure out what goes on in your head. You have zero sense of decency,” Vince muttered.
Yates scoffed, “I’m not the one lacking decency here. At least I’m not stealing someone else’s wife. If I ever get married and you try to steal my wife, I won’t be as forgiving as Timothy.”
Vince grinned, “Please, you don’t even have a wife yet. Am I supposed to steal your imaginary wife? Maybe by the time I get married, you’ll still be single.”
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