He scanned the rows of shiny whites and gold, all so tiny and intricate but carrying a price tag that weren’t too tiny. But he had to get her something special, tight arse as he was, because she seemed too good to let go.

He was much older than she was. She was a dynamite of a looker too while he was balding. He could offer her no security and she has been restless. She did sneak a look or two at the Italian waiter, a stud or so you’d call a guy with an athletic build. She thought he hadn’t noticed, but he did. No, he couldn’t let her go.

He needed to prove that he was serious about her, and he would do it around midnight, on Christmas Day.

Five o’clock. Damn. He had to be home by six for Christmas dinner with the usual gang, then the traditional opening of presents. Something his wife had instituted, being Christian and everything, which he couldn’t care much about but still encouraged her. It made her so forgiving, loving and kind as she upheld all those bullshit Christian values about turning the other cheek. Well, it worked for him.

The gift was rather expensive though, but he figured that if he billed it on Amex, dodged the monthly reminders and paid off just the interest, he might just be able to pay it off when Delores gets her long service gratuity. Indeed, she would give him the entire sum if he asked her, if he said he really needed it for further investment into his overseas ventures. Taking that 150 grand from her pension, he will take sweet Victoria with him to Vietnam and build a love nest along the coast of picturesque Hoi An. He would then initiate the divorce.

Or should he?