That was the first time James called me his wife, albeit jokingly.
But I blushed, like that first hint of red on a peach blossom in early March–the sweetest bite.
We truly started to open up to each other, I think, when I discovered James’s secret.
It wasn’t intentional. James and I both had our own places before marriage. That time, James’s mother gave me an address and asked me to pick something up.
When I opened the door and went in, James was there. Our eyes met, and I was so shocked I could barely maintain my composure, while
James looked embarrassed.
The entire floor of the large apartment had been opened up, with no furniture, just rows and rows of display cases. Half were filled with action figures, the other half with Lego models.
James was sitting on the floor in the empty space in the middle, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his usually neatly combed hair falling loosely over
his brows.
He looked several years younger, like a college student who had just outgrown his childishness. Around him were scattered Lego pieces, and
in his hands was a half–built airplane model.
I was stunned and asked reflexively, “Weren’t you in a meeting today?”
The usually composed and mature Mr. Sullivan of City A seemed a bit flustered and angry, his face suspiciously red as he said, “I finished early and just stopped by to check on things…”
I couldn’t help but burst out laughing, tears in my eyes. Then I went over, took his hand, and whispered, “Come on, I’ll show
you something.”
I took him to my pre–marriage apartment. It wasn’t as extreme as James’s, but half a room was filled with Lego sets,
James’s eyes lit up. He pointed at the compiete set of the Pirates of the Caribbean ship model on the table, excited: “I have the whole set too.”
I was also excited and said, “I saw it.”
We looked at each other, both seeing a kindred spirit in the other’s eyes.
Later, when we decided who would do the dishes, we set an alarm and prepared identical mini Lega sets. Whoever finished building first wouldn’t have to wash the dishes,
James didn’t have a great childhood. His father died early, and his mother’s control over him was almost pathological.
I only glimpsed this from occasional conversations, but he never had time to play with these things before.
Besides normal schoolwork, he had a packed schedule of business, stock market, and fund management courses.
In his mother’s eyes, things like Lego were probably considered a waste of time.
So this became our little secret.
This tacit understanding seemed to bring us even closer.
Our marriage was going so well, more harmonious than many couples who had dated for years before getting married. We were husband and wife, and also friends.
We had such similar interests, backgrounds, and perspectives. Our friends couldn’t help but marvel: “Why are you two so perfect for each other?”
We were so compatible, like two halves of a soul coming together to form a whole.
How did we end up like this in the end?
