5
When I open the door to take out the trash, I happen to
into Sarah.
C
She sees me and insistently leads me into her apartment.
She gently rolls an egg over my swollen eyes, her own eyes brimming with tears as she asks with furrowed brows:
“Does it hurt?”
Her concern reminds me of Kevin when we first got married
Back then, Kevin and I had no money. A–City is an expensive place, so we could only afford to rent a basement apartment in a remote area.
We squeezed onto a small bed, sharing a bathroom and kitchen with others.
The kitchen was quite far from our room.
One time I cooked a meal in the kitchen and was carrying it back to our room when I collided head–on with someone rushing by. I instinctively turned the hot dish towards myself, burning a large patch of skin off my hand.
16
When Kevin got home from work, I didn’t want him to worry so I deliberately wore gloves. But he still noticed. I quickly smiled and pulled my hand away saying it didn’t hurt at all.
Kevin looked at my hand, frantically applying medicine. He cried just like Sarah is now.
Tears falling endlessly, it seemed.
I even teased him about how a grown man could cry so much.
He rubbed his eyes through his tears: “Haley, I promise I’ll give you the best life in the world someday!”
That night, he held me and talked all night long.
“Haley, I’ll never let you get hurt again.”
To this day, I still believe he truly loved me then.
But when did he change?
Now he and I are like two ticking time bombs tied together.
Ready to explode at the slightest friction.
Of course, Kevin is a dud – silent.
He just spreads terrifying smoke, seeping into every corner of the air.
Making me afraid, making me scream myself hoarse.
When I get home, they’ve already left.
The kitchen is cold, wet clothes Tommy changed out of are strewn on the bathroom floor.
There are several dirty shoe prints in the living room.
<
I sit on the sofa and open my laptop.
I start drafting a divorce agreement.
My educational background is no worse than Kevin’s.
Before becoming a stay–at–home mom, I also graduated from a top university, passed the bar exam, got my license, and worked as a practicing lawyer for two years.
I once earned a high salary, won many cases for clients, and had a brilliant career.
Until I got pregnant.
Kevin convinced me to quit my job and stay home with the baby.
At first he said:
“After your postpartum recovery period, when the baby’s a bit older, we’ll hire a full–time nanny. You can go back to work then.”
Later h
T
changed his tune:
“The baby’s used to you now. My career is taking off too. If you go back to work, we’d have to hire a nanny. A nanny’s salary would be much higher than yours it doesn’t make sense for family.
Let’s wait till our son is a bit older.”
Our
Tommy clung to me, babbling “Mama.”
I softened.
It’s my fault for not insisting.
Looking back, Kevin’s emotional neglect started appearing bit by bit from that time.
