By now, it had been three months since he last had a sip of my chicken noodle soup. For the sake of that soup, he was willing to give me a way out.
The more he thought about it, the more he felt that he should give me an out.
However, his outstretched hand was never greeted with the warmth of a bowl of chicken. noodle soup.
A frown took over his face.
He opened his eyes and was about to start grumbling, only to realize he wasn’t lying comfortably in bed. Instead, it appeared he had spent the whole night on the cold hard floor, surrounded by a mess!
There were even broken shards of glass scattered around him.
What shocked him even more was that some of the glass had pierced the skin on his hand. Staring at his injured hand, he couldn’t quite process what was happening.
How in the world did he end up on the floor?
Before drowning himself in booze the day before, he had explicitly told his friends to bring him to my place.
He was starting to suspect that they had misunderstood his instructions. That was until he
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Chapter 7
turned and spotted me eating at the dining table
He froze, unsure if he was still dreaming.
Nevertheless, he wasn’t convinced such a thing could happen even in a dream.
He was confident that his dear wife would never leave him lying on the floor! He could picture me fussing over him endlessly, staying up all night taking care of him.
Only the pain from his hands could snap him back to his senses. It proved that this wasn’t a dream. He had spent the night at my place, for sure.
And I had been enjoying my meal without a care in the world. All while he lay on the floor with the broken shards in his palms.
His blood boiled in his veins, and he couldn’t help feeling incredibly hurt.
At that moment, whatever tantrums I had thrown no longer mattered. How could I, his wife, have the gall to treat him like that? He was left on a floor covered in glass!
More wounded than angry, he jumped to his feet and snapped, “Emilia! You left me to sleep on the floor?”
He seemed unable to tolerate any grievances, having been spoiled all this time.
I glanced up at him indifferently. “I was kind enough to leave you on the floor. Next time your show up drunk at my door, I’m calling the cops.”
“Don’t you push it, Emilia…” Irvin was ready to lash out, but suddenly, he remembered he had come to give me an out.
Therefore, he swallowed his anger and pulled a chair next to me. “Why isn’t there a serving for me?”
Seeing the hot dogs on the table, he grimaced. “Haven’t I told you countless times not to eat such unhealthy food? Why are you still eating them? And why is everything spicy? You know I can’t have spicy food because of my stomach, right?”
He huffed. “I’m not having any of this: Go make me some oats and a light dish!”
I was speechless at his demands. He must’ve gone mad. In what world did our current relationship justify him demanding food from me?
No spicy food? Did he think I gave a shit?
Somehow, it was as though he couldn’t read my expression or comprehend my words. Receiving no response, he snatched my plate as if he had every right.
I fought the urge to pick up the food on the table and dump it all on his head.
But I failed.
So, I picked up the plates and hurled them at him. Unfortunately, he was quick to react,
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Chapter 7
dodging them at lightning speed.
“Stop it, Emilia. You’ve been acting out for three months now. Aren’t you tired?” He looked at me like I was a petulant child, a mix of annoyance and indulgence.
The temptation to strangle him to death intensified within me. “Acting out? Who’s acting the fuck out? If you have the guts, let’s finalize this divorce right now!”
Hadn’t we already agreed to the divorce? What was he up to this time?
Perhaps due to my swearing, Irvin’s face darkened. “Emilia, how many times have I told you not to talk about divorce no matter how much of a mess you made? Yet, here you are, going on and on about it! If you mention it one more time I might agree!”
“That’s great! Let’s get going, then!” I sprung to my feet, ready to leave.
Counting on my plan to discuss divorce as soon as he woke up, I had dressed neatly this morning. I didn’t want to delay heading straight to the courthouse with our decision.
But before I could move, Irvin pushed me back into the chair. “Emilia! Stop pushing my buttons!”
It was evident that he was struggling to control his anger. I thought I could play my cards correctly and use that to my advantage. Perhaps a little more provocation would make him agree to the divorce.
All of a sudden, his tone took a turn for some reason and softened. “Emilia, I know you have been throwing a fit for the past three months, while I took no effort to give you an out. I know you might feel a bit ashamed. But please, don’t use divorce as a threat, okay? Look, I’m back for good now.”
Yes, his bottom line had been crossed again and again at my mention of divorce. However, he was determined to tuck his temper away.
I really couldn’t tell what was going on in his mind. Even after all I said, he was still under the impression that I was messing around. He still believed I was only using divorce as a threat.
Once again, he made me feel as though I was talking to a wall.
I couldn’t help but reiterate once more,,“Irvin, I’m not messing around. I genuinely want a divorce!”
It was then that it seemed to sink in. In an instant, his expression turned terrifyingly dark.
I found it truly puzzling. Irvin and Julianne were clearly in love with each other. He should be jumping with joy, knowing they could finally be together.
He should be over cloud nine that I wanted a divorce, shouldn’t he?
Did I have to be part of their play just so they could prove their deep affection to all?
Chapter &
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Chapter 8
