I woke up in the morning and saw Mom watching me cook sticky rice at the stove. She greeted me in her native Isan dialect, asking only about Fea. Honestly, Mom seemed to have a soft spot for Fea too, like she could see the walls he'd built around himself and how hard it was for him to trust people. Every time they talked, she'd ask about him. In Mom and my younger brother's eyes, Fea wasn't such a bad guy. In fact, they admired him for being a man who kept himself clean, cooked well, and took good care of me. He wasn't much of a talker in front of Mom, often staying quiet, and he'd get into playful arguments with my younger brother Woon just because he liked teasing him. Woon was easygoing, so it was just harmless fun to annoy my husband Fea would laugh when scolded, clearly enjoying it.
"Mom, do you think I should divorce Fea?" I finally confessed, after spending the night thinking it over while we were in the kitchen.
"Why would you want to divorce?" Mom frowned deeply, her forehead wrinkled, looking genuinely shocked, as if we'd been together for decades before marriage.
"His ex came back from overseas, and his father… well, his father favors the ex. She's from a family with a real estate company, and if Fea marries her, his father will be satisfied, and the business will stay secure. From the start, it feels like our marriage was just for convenience, so I'm thinking of stepping back. Mom, do you think I'm doing the right thing?"
"Just because his father likes her, what does that have to do with your marriage? You two decided to get married yourselves, didn't you? I don't know how it went the day you agreed to be together or how your feelings were back then, but the one actually in the relationship doesn't bring someone else into divorce discussions unless there's real cheating. If there isn't, you just need to understand why he chose to stay with you instead of marrying his ex."
Mom spoke in long, flowing scenes. After getting a reality check from my younger brother, hearing it from her made me feel like kneeling down and saluting right away.
"I've asked them before, but there was no answer. They never talked about themselves. We never really wanted to know about each other do you really think we'd still be in love?"
"Did you fight all the time when you were together? Never slept in the same bed? Never did anything for each other? Mom has seen you pampering and spoiling your wife in every way. So why is it like this, Wai?"
"Because… I'm poor. I don't deserve them."
"Do you really think love is determined by wealth, Wai? If someone married just to look good, do you really think it couldn't have been anyone else? There are plenty of others—why does it have to be you?"
"I… I don't know. Like I said, we… never really talked."
"Never talked? And you couldn't read each other's body language at all? Your wife stays at home, loves cooking, loves taking care of the house, isn't into office work… even her way of living tells you a lot. You might not be smart, but it's not that hard to see. She's happy in her space and your space is part of that. Do you not understand what that means, Wai?"
"…"
"Are you not happy when you're with her? Do you want to leave her every second? Is it that painful just being with this wife? If the answer is yes, then go ahead and get a divorce. Mom won't interfere because she didn't force you to marry. And the other side can't force you to break up either. Think carefully whose decision was it to live together, to marry? Was it just theirs, or did you both decide together?"
"…Yes, Mom."
.
.
So basically, I'm not as slick as I talk. I got back to the condo first thing Sunday morning, sitting there staring at my phone the whole way, wondering how to even talk to Fia.
Should I keep lying like always? Say I'm just tipsy from allergy meds… or drunk off cleaning solution? Will they even let me into the condo when they see me? Damn, my heart's racing.
Damn… I actually made it all the way to the door.
tap tap tap
I'd been pacing in front of the door for half an hour already. What now? I know the code, I've got the keycard—just press to open, swipe, or maybe knock…
"Ah, sir, is there anything I can help you with?"
The condo cleaner happened to show up and greeted me like she remembered my face from the front desk, the security guard, to the reception didn't mean my wife had gone out shopping and left me to stew in suspense or anything.
"N-no, um… have you seen my wife come out of the apartment?"
"No, not really, but on Saturday she ordered fried chicken. Very unusual, wasn't it?"
"Yeah… my wife eating something like that? Where? Or… um, ma'am, has anyone come to see my wife?"
"I don't know, sir."
I grabbed the keycard and opened the door without even saying goodbye to the cleaner, afraid she'd get mad and maybe even call my wife's ex over here… No way! Maybe the reason she hasn't called is exactly because of this misunderstanding… I never wanted a divorce, Fia. My mouth got ahead of me, that was my mistake don't punish me like that…
Thump thump thump thump
I ran around the apartment looking for my wife, opening doors left and right. Clothes, makeup, jewelry, even the bouncy pig doll I bought for her were all scribbled over with markers. Would she stomp me to death? Coming this time, she's probably furious.
Bang!
The kitchen was a total mess, all the food scattered like someone had thrown cans of beer and bottles of liquor around. Damn, if my wife made the place this chaotic… where the hell is she now?
Thump thump thump thump
Bang! "The bedroom's empty too."
Thump thump thump thump
"What about the balcony?" She can't have jumped off, right? She's the only child—she can't die over an argument with her husband. Or did she slash her wrists in the bathroom?
Thump thump thump thump
"Nowhere! The office is empty too!"
"Fia… Fia, where are you, wife?" Silence. Dead quiet.
"She's back," I saw her car, her shoes were all there. She has to be somewhere in the apartment.
Thump thump thump thump
"Wife, your husband's sorry…" Why do I even raise my hands to pray before seeing her?
Click…
"Wait, the fridge door… it's open?"
Thump thump
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the fridge ajar, a white cloth with red streaks hanging out.
"No… it can't be her… Fia!" I shouted, panicking, imagining my wife had hurt herself and stuffed inside the fridge. I ran and yanked the big fridge door open.
Whoosh
Screeeeeam!!
Crazy
Wife!
It was my own voice anyone in my shoes would have freaked out. That damn wife had wrapped a white blanket around the body and spilled wine all over it looked like blood.
The apartment was trashed, but the blanket and a pillow had been dragged into the open fridge. Thought the wife was some kind of mummy in a coffin. If I hadn't come back, the fridge probably would have ended up as the wife's personal ghost.
thump thump thump
I shook the body, but no response. Either drunk or faking death.
Even though the wife usually loved cleanliness, the place could look like this. Cold-blooded, really. The wife must be seriously pissed at me.
I laid a cloth on the couch and lifted the tall, fit wife onto it. Clothes? Didn't bother. Likes the cold, so at least there would be no freezing. Who knows how many hours had passed.
Then I started cleaning the war zone left behind, especially the beloved kitchen, smeared with tomato sauce and mayonnaise like a messy masterpiece. The apartment's huge, but my entire Sunday went into dealing with this crazy wife.
Never realized how much time cleaning could suck out of a day. Exhausted. Completely wiped out.
Panting…
Exhausted as hell. That damn Fia, loving to clean the house—how the hell did it even manage all this? The storage room's neat, the trash is out, the air freshener sprayed… now only the wife's left in complete disarray.
Fia, the guy who even at home would style hair, wear jeans, and spritz cologne, now lying there naked, hair a mess, totally disheveled—hilarious enough to snap a photo and blackmail him later just to make me miss him.
Splash.
A towel, soaked in warm water, glides over that pale body. Arms sculpted like ropes of muscle, smooth, firm chest rising and falling with each breath. Legs taut and beautifully shaped, even the toes look pristine, as if life never let them touch bare ground.
This flawless, statue-like body… anyone who saw it would fall in love.
Yet here I am, living with him, and all I have is a crappy gold ring—a pair bought on our wedding day and he never complains. It's like he doesn't want anything in life… except…
love.