September 18,2011

Something was wrong with Chen.

Or so you thought.

You believed marriage was the embodiment of joy and the welding of two people to be one- bodies intermingled under warm covers at night and endless longing over phone calls and telekinetic thoughts as the day drags on.

But it was the opposite.

At the end of each day, you waited for him at the door, only for him to return your gratitude with a mumbled “I’m back” and a saunter up the stairs and to the lone bedroom at the end of the corridor. Nevertheless, you would plaster a smile on your face and mutter to yourself, “Perhaps he’s tired.”

For what seemed to be the hundredth time, you found yourself waiting by the front door, only to be surprised when Chen walked through the front door, approximately thirty-four minutes early.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, surprised.

“I came early because I knew you were upset,” Chen said, a sad smile on his face. “I know I haven’t been at home a lot, so I wanted to take you out for dinner to make up for the past month?”

Were you supposed to be angry?

Or heartfelt?

A smile stretched across your face. “Sure,” you answered.

And you found yourself, sitting across from Chen in a dimly lit restaurant, eating and sharing a light conversation over a bottle of wine, almost like the day you first met.

And your doubt faded away.

April 7, 2012

Chen was losing interest.

In what?

Love. Marriage.

You.

Night after night, you contemplated.

What were you doing wrong?

You began to assume that it was not Chen who was beginning to disconnect from the ties of your marriage, but it was you who was not trying hard enough to please your husband.

And so it began.

Browsing through recipes online to prepare steaming dishes for Chen each night, visiting his workplace every few days, and ironing his clothes for him each morning. Of course, it was laborious, but you would do anything for Chen to be happy.

You checked your watch.

12:42

You stood in the lobby of Chen’s office building, anxiously waiting for him. When you saw him walk into the lobby, you smiled and waved at him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, almost as if hedidn’t want you to be at his workplace.

You handed him the bag that you were holding. “I heard you were busy, so I brought you lunch,” you said.

Instead of gladly accepting it and escorting you out the door, as a husband should do, he gave you a culpable look and muttered, “I’m sorry, _____, but I promised my coworkers that I would have lunch with them.”

“But-“

Before you could mention another word, he shoved the bag back into your hands and ushered you out the door, almost forcefully.

“Next time, you don’t have to come to my workplace, alright?” he asked, an obviously imitative smile plastered on his face.

He doesn’t love me, you thought, the words repeating in your mind like a thick, heavy pulse.

He doesn’t love me.

September 24, 2012

“How is marriage life?”

A family dinner- porcelain dishes on the mahogany tabletop and laughter resonating through the dining room as you picked at your food, taking interest in the view outside the window. A caliginous sky with withered leaves rustling while riding the fall breeze. When you heard your mother’s voice, you snapped out of your daze.

“What?” you asked.

“I said,” she asked, “How is marriage life?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. Your mother raised an eyebrow, eyeing you suspiciously.

“It’s wonderful,” you lied, forcing a smile upon your lips.

Your mother smiled. “That’s such a relief.”

You nodded in agreement. “We get along very well.”

~~

Once the family dinner was over, you hurriedly slung your purse over your shoulder and wrapped your coat around yourself, about to open the front door, when-

“_____!”

You turned around.

“Where are you going?”

You groaned.

It was your twin brother.

Oh Sehun.

“You’re leaving without saying goodbye?” he asked, arms crossed.

“If that’s why you’re bothering me, then I’m-“

Sehun shook his head. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then what is it?”

Sehun leaned on the wall beside you and glared at you. “You were lying this evening,” he said.

Your eyes widened and your voice trembled as you asked, “About what?”

“You were lying when you said you were happy about marriage life.”

You remained silent.

A sly grin spread across his face, for he knew he was right. “I think I know when my twin sister is lying.” After taking a deep breath, he asked, “Tell me, what’sreally going on?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Sehun snorted. “As your older brother-“

“Older brother?” You rolled your eyes. “By three seconds.”

Nevertheless, Sehun continued, “I have the right to know. If that guy you call your husband is doing anything to you, you have tell me. Promise?”

A moment of silence was followed by a cold statement. “Shouldn’t you be studying? You’re leaving tomorrow for America tomorrow, so I suggest you study if you want mom’s permission to study abroad.”

Without another word, Sehun watched as you walked through the front door, the clicking of your heels resonating in the dense silence of the night.