What I wanted didn’t happen and as I sat in the cab, my tears started rolling down. Why? Why couldn’t our love even withstand the test of one fight?
left the house. Maybe he really intends to leave me for good. What a rational man, so clear-cut in love and money matters. I gave a few dried laugh and tears started streaming down again.
The next day, I did not go to work.. I wanted to clear this out and have a good talk with him. I reached his office and his secretary gave me a weird look and said: “Mr. Tan’s mother had a traffic accident and is now in the hospital.” I stood there in shock. I rushed to the hospital and by the time I found them, mother had already passed away.
Hubby did not look at me, his face was expressionless. I looked at mother’s pale white and thin face and I couldn’t control the tears in my eyes. My god, how could this happen?
Throughout the funeral, he did not say a single word to me, with only the occasional disgusted stare he gives. I only managed to find out brief facts about the accident from other people. That day, after mother left the house, she walked away dazed toward the bus stop, apparently intending to go back to her old house back in the countryside. As hubby ran after her, she tried to walk faster and as she tried to cross the street, a public bus came knocking her… I finally understood how much hubby must hate me.
If I had not thrown up that morning, if we had not quarreled, if…., in his heart, I am indirectly the killer of his mother.
Back in the house he moved into mother’s room and came home every night with a strong liquor smell on him. Me, I was buried under the guilt and self-pity as a result of his mum’s death and could hardly breathe. I wanted to explain to him, tell him that we are going to have our baby soon, but each time, I saw the dead look in his eyes, all the words I have at the brink of my mouth just fell back in. I had rather he hit me real hard or give me a big and thorough scolding though none of these events happening had been my fault at all.
Many days of suffocating silence went by and as the days went by, he came home late and late. The deadlock between us continued, we were living together like strangers who didn’t know each other. I am like the dead knot in his heart. One day, I passed by a western restaurant, looking through the glass, I saw him and a girl sitting facing each other and he lithely brushed her hair for her, I understood what that action meant immediately. After recovering from that moment of shock, I entered the restaurant, stood in front of my him and stared hard at him, not a tear in my eyes. I have nothing to say to him, and there was no need to say anything. The girl looked at me, looks at him, stood up to walk away , but my husband restrained her from doing so. He stared back at me, challenging me.. I can only hear my heart beating slowly, beat after beat as if I’m about taking my last breath. I eventually backed out, if I had stood there any longer, I would have collapsed
together with the baby inside me. That night, he did not come home; he had chosen to use that as a way to sending a message to me:
Following his mother’s death, so did our love for each other.
He did not come home anymore after that. Sometimes, when I returned home from work, I can tell that the wardrobe had been touched – he had returned to take some of his belonging. I no longer wish to call him; the initial desire to explain everything to him vanished. I lived alone; I go for my medical checkups alone, my heart breaks again and again every time I see a guy
carefully helping his wife through the physical examination.