“The hotel bed was so hard and uncomfortable. I barely slept.”
If it were before, hearing him complain, I would have rushed to comfort him, maybe even given him a massage. But now, I just calmly sipped my soup, not even bothering to glance his way.
He quickly walked over to me, eager to explain.
“I swear I slept at the hotel down the block last night. Look, I even brought you your favorite burritos from downstairs. I figured you must have been craving them.”
I glanced at the burritos but didn’t touch them. They were from the place I used to frequent.
Back when we first married, our careers were just starting, and we barely made enough to cover our mortgage. This restaurant was cheap, and their burritos were huge and filling, so I ate there for seven years.
Just then, a notification popped up on my phone from Twitter. Zara had posted a picture of a lavish candlelit dinner with the caption, [A 6’2″ cardiologist who’s both a gentleman and a great cook—Jason, the perfect man.]
I calmly closed my phone as Jason picked up the burrito and held it to my mouth.
“Eat it while it’s hot. It won’t taste as nice when it’s cold.”
The greasy smell of the burrito lingered in my nose, and I instinctively raised my hand to block it. The burrito fell to the floor.
Jason slammed his hand on the table, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“All I did was leave you alone for a little while. I even prepared the candles for you. Is it really necessary for you to act like this? I’m a doctor. I have a responsibility to my patients. If something had happened to Zara last night, you and I would both have to live with that guilt for the rest of our lives!”
I picked up the burrito and threw it into the trash, not even looking back. “I respect your profession. I have no objections.”
But he didn’t let it go. He grabbed my wrist.
“We’ve been married for seven years, and you’re still playing these silly games? You watch too many dramas. This isn’t some high school romance.”
When I was younger, I used to watch those idol dramas and cry and laugh at other people’s love stories. Jason would always be there, dumping cold water on my fantasies, calling me a fool for letting love cloud my judgment.
Now, as I’d gotten older, if I didn’t follow his wishes, he accused me of playing these mind games like the women in those dramas.
If I put on any makeup or dress up a little, he’d mock me, “Seriously? Pink? Do you think you’re a little girl?”
Then, he’d watch as I carefully removed my makeup and slipped into my loungewear, only leaving when he was satisfied.
I didn’t feel a thing as I heard these old words that used to sting. I just looked at him with a bored expression and glanced away.
I went to the bedroom and changed into a black V-neck fitted dress. Then I sprayed on some perfume, grabbed my bag, and walked to the door.
“Where are you going?” His voice, laced with irritation, rang out behind me.
“Just some errands,” I replied, not looking back.
