I'm Just a Half‑Hour on His Calendar

Three years into our marriage, Marcus Bane changes my contact name. It is no longer "Honey", but "7:00 pm to 7:30 pm". He says he sets aside only half an hour a day to settle personal matters. If my message arrives even a minute early, he doesn't reply. If it's a minute late, he doesn't reply either. One time, I get a high fever and need to go to the hospital for an IV drip, so I call him seven times. At 7:00 pm, he calls me back. "You have 29 minutes. Only say what's important." My voice hoarse, I ask if he can come pick me up. He glances at his schedule. "29 minutes isn't enough for a round trip. Just take a cab." I always think he's just too busy with work, so I never dare to waste that half an hour. I'll write down what I want to say in advance, even picking out the main points when I need to tell him what's bothering me. Until one night, at 1:00 am, when thunder wakes me up, and no one is sleeping beside me. Marcus is sitting on the couch in the living room, revising a proposal for his project manager, Cindy Moore. Cindy's aggrieved voice comes through the video call. "Mr. Bane, it's already 1:00 am. Am I using up too much of your private time?" He laughs. "When have I ever kept track of time when it comes to you?" I stand outside the door and suddenly remember how, three hours ago, my stomach hurt so badly that I couldn't straighten up. I had knocked on his study door. Marcus tells me, "You've used up your time for today." I return to the room and turn off the alarm set for 6:59 pm every day. At 7:00 pm the next evening, Marcus doesn't get a message from me for the first time. Chapter 1 Marcus Bane opened his study door at 7:03 pm. "No update today?" I was sitting at the dining table. Today was our third wedding anniversary. I'd booked a restaurant a month ago, but that afternoon, he canceled, saying that his project meeting had been pushed back. I didn't mind staying home since he didn't like wasting time commuting. I made soup, fried some eggs, and bought a little cake. Marcus glanced at the time. It was still 7:03 pm. "You still have 27 minutes." I looked at him, suddenly unsure where to start. Should I tell him that my stomach hurt so badly last night that I knocked on his door, only to be told that my time was up? Or that I woke up in the middle of the night and saw him revising a proposal for Cindy Moore? Marcus furrowed his brows at the long silence. He hated losing control. In his eyes, projects, meetings, and our marriage should be settled within a fixed time. “Juniper, don't give me the silent treatment to get more time." I put down my cutlery. "What if I never take up any of your time again?" Marcus looked up at me, barely sparing me a glance. It was as if he were looking at a calendar reminder that had suddenly gone wrong. "That means you're starting to act mature." I flinched as the bowl burned my fingers. Marcus noticed my reaction. He took a tissue and handed it to me. "Run them under water. Don't get the table wet." I didn't take it. Just then, his phone rang. Cindy was video-calling, and Marcus answered right away. Cindy's eyes were red. A pile of documents lay spread on the table in front of her. "Mr. Bane, I'm sorry. I misunderstood the client's requirements again. I'm really stupid, right?" Marcus' frosty expression softened. "Send me your address. I'll go over." I said quietly, "My time isn't up yet." His fingers paused halfway through grabbing his jacket. "Cindy's issue is work-related." I glanced at the jacket in his hands, my throat tightening. "What about me?" Marcus turned to look at me, his voice almost gentle. "You're my wife. You shouldn't compete with my work for time." I laughed. So being a wife didn't mean I would be favored. It just meant I would be expected to be understanding. Marcus started toward the foyer, then suddenly turned back and grabbed the cake, but I instinctively held the box down. "This is our cake." He looked at my hand, his voice soft but firm. "She's been working all this time without eating, and she has low blood sugar. Juniper, you can buy a cake anytime, but the project can't be delayed." Marcus was almost at the door when I finally couldn't hold it in anymore. "Marcus, today's our wedding anniversary." He rested his hand on the doorknob and turned to look at me. "That's why I asked you about it at 7:00 pm." I froze. Marcus didn't seem to notice any problem with what he said. "Juniper, I didn't forget. I already gave you time." The door closed, and I laughed. I finally realized one thing. To him, our anniversary wasn't about spending time with me. It was about proving he hadn't shortchanged me. Chapter 2 At 4:00 am, Marcus finally came home. I was still awake, my stomach aching more with every turn. He dropped the stomach medication onto the bedside table. "You skipped dinner, didn't you? You did this to yourself." Then he tucked the blanket around my shoulders. "Don't take your anger out on your body." He always showed me a little affection at times like this. It was as if he knew I'd give in because I was in pain, or was certain that one small gesture from him would be enough to make me get over it. "Are you done revising Cindy's proposal?" I asked. Marcus paused, his fingers freezing against his tie. "She was stressed because the client changed things at the absolute last minute." "So even though you're with her until 4:00 am, it still counts as work?" Marcus glanced at me. "Juniper, don't get sarcastic with me." Even though my stomach hurt badly, I sat up. "I just want to know why, when I had a high fever, you couldn't make a round trip in 29 minutes, but when Cindy cried, you could go back and forth to spend five hours with her." Only silence hung between us for a few seconds. Marcus walked over to the bed, his expression still calm. "You're my wife. We can talk about your problems at home. It's different for Cindy. She's alone in this city. She doesn't have anyone else." My heart sank for a moment. So being married to him became a sin in itself. By the next afternoon, my stomach hurt so badly I broke out in a cold sweat, but I didn't call Marcus. It wasn't 7:00 pm yet, so even if I did, he wouldn't answer. I took a cab to the hospital by myself. The nurse started the IV drip for me and asked, "Is your family here?" I replied, "He's busy." The nurse looked at my pale face and dropped the subject. I never expected to see Marcus at the end of the hospital hallway. Cindy sat on the bench with a bandage on her right index finger. Marcus crouched in front of her, carefully rolling up her sleeves as if afraid of hurting her. I looked down at the back of my hand, where the IV was inserted. The whole situation suddenly felt a bit absurd. It had never been about how deep the wound was. It was about whether Marcus cared enough to give in. Cindy spotted me first. She pulled her hand back in panic. "Juniper, don't get the wrong idea. I accidentally hurt myself while opening the file folder. Mr. Bane insisted on coming to the hospital." Marcus turned to look at me, his gaze dropping to my hand as his brows furrowed. "Why didn't you call me?" "Will you pick up?" Cindy's eyes reddened. "Is it because of me? Juniper, I didn't know you were at the hospital too." Marcus stood up, and his voice turned cold. "Juniper, she has a presentation tomorrow. She can't hurt her right hand. You're already getting an IV drip. Don't make this a competition with her." My stomach twisted, and the pain got worse. The nurse called me over to take out my IV. From behind me, I heard Cindy ask softly, "Mr. Bane, why don't you go with Juniper?" "She'll manage," Marcus answered without hesitation. I lowered my head and laughed. Yeah, I could manage on my own. I could come to the hospital alone, sit through an IV alone, and stay in this marriage until I had nothing left to hope for. Chapter 3 Marcus called me for the first time before 7:00 pm the next day. I was puking my guts out, crouching by the bathroom door. My stomach felt empty, and stomach acid burned my throat. My voice was hoarse as I answered, "Yes?" It was quiet on Marcus' end. "Bring that white shirt in your wardrobe to the office." He meant the shirt I'd bought last month for an interview. I hadn't even removed the price tag yet. "What do you need it for?" He paused for a brief second before answering, "Cindy spilled some coffee on her shirt. She has a presentation in half an hour. Your shirt is the perfect size for her." I braced myself against the bathroom sink, feeling my stomach twist again. "I'm not feeling well." "Juniper." Marcus' voice was always calm when he called my name. "Don't make trouble at a time like this. Bringing it here won't eat up much of your time." I ended up going to his office as he instructed. It was raining, and the Uber driver took 20 minutes to get to my place. I carefully shielded the shirt in my arms, getting my skirt wet in the process. When I arrived at Bane Corporation, Cindy was waiting for me at the entrance. Her hair hung loose, and Marcus' coat was draped over her. There were coffee stains on her collar. "Juniper, I'm sorry to make you come all this way." She reached out and accidentally touched my cold fingers, then pulled back immediately. "Why is your hand so cold? Are you feeling unwell?" Before I could answer her, she lowered her eyes. "It's all my fault. If I had known you were not feeling well, I would never have asked Mr. Bane to call you." Cindy made it sound so simple, as if she couldn't have stopped Marcus from calling and I'd chosen to get soaked in the rain. When Marcus stepped out of the elevator, he heard the last sentence. He looked at me. "Where's the shirt?" He didn't even bother to ask me why I was drenched or why I was so pale. I handed over the shirt, while Cindy bit her lip and said softly, "Mr. Bane, forget it. Juniper seems sick." Marcus furrowed his brows. "If you're sick, get some rest somewhere nearby. Don't stand right here in the lobby and make a spectacle of yourself." The lobby's cold air chilled me to the bone. A few of Cindy's colleagues were standing outside the conference room after she changed into the shirt I'd brought. One of them teased, grinning. "Looking good, Ms. Moore. First you had Mr. Bane's coat on, and now you've even changed into a new shirt." Cindy blushed, then glanced at me, looking flustered. But she didn't bother explaining. It was only after her colleagues quieted down that she mumbled, "Don't be ridiculous. This is Mrs. Bane's shirt." Those people looked at me. "Mrs. Bane?" Someone paused, then asked, "Mr. Bane is married?" I thought Marcus would introduce me as his wife, but he just handed the documents to Cindy and said nonchalantly, "She's just here to deliver some stuff." His words made three years of our marriage feel like nothing. Cindy quickly tried to smooth things over. "Yes, she's Mrs. Bane." She tugged on her shirt, looking a little embarrassed. "I didn't want to trouble her at first, but Mr. Bane said his wife is very generous and wouldn't mind me wearing her shirt for the time being." Marcus looked at me, without denying what Cindy had said. "Go back first. Don't get in the way of her presentation." Just before the elevator doors closed, Cindy looked up at me and smiled. I stood there, soaked to the skin, looking like I'd just made a delivery. My phone vibrated, and a message from Marcus popped up. He said, "I won't be calling at 7:00 pm. We have a project review after the meeting." I stared at it and suddenly felt like replying to him was a waste of my energy. It was still pouring when I left the building. Standing on the roadside, I opened the appointment page of a law firm and made an appointment. Chapter 4 The rain poured down even harder than before, making the pain in my stomach even more noticeable. A confirmation message popped up on the law firm's appointment page. I had scheduled a meeting for 3:00 pm the next day. I stared at it for a long time, suddenly feeling like I finally had solid ground beneath my feet. It turned out that leaving someone didn't have to involve screaming and shouting. I only needed to press the confirm button. By the time I got home a little after 6:00 pm, I was already running a low-grade fever. I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw my face was deathly pale. The rainwater on my skirt had dried and cooled, leaving the damp fabric clinging to my legs. It was as if it wanted to remind me how miserable I'd looked earlier. Marcus' message remained at the top of my inbox. "I won't be calling at 7:00 pm. We have a project review after the meeting." How ridiculous. He could take away even that half hour of my time at a moment's notice. I flipped my phone over, not wanting to look at the message any longer, when I suddenly felt a heavy pain hit my lower abdomen. It was different from my usual stomach pain. The ache was persistent and seemed to sink lower and lower, as if something inside me had come loose. I leaned against the wall for a long time before finally managing to call an Uber to take me to the hospital. The doctor looked over my test results. "You're six weeks pregnant." I was stunned. My first reaction wasn't joy, but blankness. Marcus and I hadn't sat down for a proper chat in a long while, let alone looked forward to having a child together. But I still couldn't help feeling a little hopeful as I held the test results in my hands. It was as if someone had suddenly struck a match in the dark. The doctor's expression was grim, though. "Your condition is not stable. You'd better get your family to come over. You'll need to stay in the hospital tonight for observation. Don't overexert yourself or get too agitated." I checked my phone and saw it was 6:47 pm. I only had to wait 13 more minutes before I could call Marcus. But earlier, he'd told me not to wait for even that half hour. I stared at the screen for a long while, and for the first time, I threw his rules to the wind. But he didn't pick up the first time I called. The same thing happened the second time. On my third call, it rang until it disconnected automatically, and the screen dimmed again. I gripped the test results, my fingers slowly turning cold. In the end, I messaged him. "Marcus, I'm at the hospital." After a long while, he replied, "What is it?" My throat tightened. "It's a very important matter." There was a brief silence. Then Marcus said, "We'll talk at 7:00 pm." I stared at those words, suddenly feeling like even breathing hurt. He saw my message, and he knew I was at the hospital. To him, even if something happened to me, it should fit into his schedule. My phone vibrated at 7:00 pm. Marcus finally called me. His background was noisy, and it sounded like he was in a private dining room. Cindy's voice reached my ear first. "Mr. Bane, I really can't drink any more." Marcus replied, his voice low. "Don't force yourself. Hand me the glass." I gripped the test results tightly and said, "Marcus, I'm at the hospital." Marcus paused. "You already told me that in the message. It's 7:00 pm now. Get to the point." I clenched my fists. "I'm preg…" Cindy suddenly coughed, her voice choking with sobs. "Mr. Bane, did I cause you any trouble? Will Juniper be upset with me?" Marcus sighed. "Juniper, I'm busy right now. The client is making Cindy drink. If it's not urgent, don't try to prove that you're important at moments like this." I wanted to say something, but the pain in my lower abdomen suddenly intensified. I leaned against the corridor wall, cold sweat running down my forehead. "Marcus, my stomach hurts." "Go get a doctor. It'll be more useful than calling me," he said flatly. The call ended. The screen showed it was 7:08 pm, but when I called Marcus again, he didn't pick up. By the time the nurse found me, I was crouching outside the restroom, my skirt stained with blood. She quickly called for help, and I was wheeled into the emergency room, my phone still clutched in my hand. The screen lit up, then went dark again. But no calls from Marcus came through. When I woke up, it was almost dawn. The doctor stood beside my bed, his voice low. "I'm so sorry. We couldn't save the baby." I stared at the white ceiling, tears in my eyes, but they didn't fall. It turned out that when the pain ran deep enough, you couldn't even cry. … I returned to the house I shared with Marcus at 4:00 am. The motion-sensor light in his study lit up as I placed the test results, the medical records, the ultrasound printout that never got to become a surprise, and my wedding ring one by one on his keyboard. Then I opened our shared calendar and deleted the 7:00 pm half-hour slot that had repeated every day for three years. A prompt popped up. "Delete all future events?" I tapped "Confirm". The last thing I did was type a single sentence in the remark column. "Marcus, you don't have to deal with me anymore. I'll get the lawyer to send you the divorce agreement. "Also, our baby is gone. Don't worry, from the time he was conceived until we lost him, he never took up even a minute of your time."