James froze.
Guilt flashed across his face. He quickly scraped the rest of the eggs into his own bowl. “I’ll make you something else—”
“Don’t waste your time,” I cut in flatly. “Aren’t you in a rush to get to the office for your charger? Take your time eating. Have fun today.”
With the air sucked out of the room, James didn’t dare sit down. He stood there holding the skillet, caught in an awkward limbo between the table and the kitchen, quietly studying my face.
I offered him a hollow smile. “Can I help you?”
“No… no.”
James ate his breakfast looking completely distracted.
In the past, a situation like this would have ended in a screaming match. If he tried to run, I would have chased him all the way to his office. Once, when he felt cornered, he called me a “hysterical drama queen.”
The tears had spilled out of me instantly. I had grabbed his collar, sobbing, “Is this my fault? How is any of this my fault?”
I yelled until I couldn’t catch my breath, stripping away every ounce of my own dignity. And when I finally looked up, James was just staring at me with blank, apathetic eyes.
He had turned his hearing aid off minutes ago.
His utter calm only made me look crazier. But even if he couldn’t hear me, couldn’t he see the tears streaming down my face? They were splashing onto the floor in heavy drops. How did none of that penetrate his heart?
After that day, I never fought with him again.
I thought it through. I accepted it.
And slowly, surely, I stopped loving him so much.
After breakfast, James went to the bedroom to change. He walked out a few minutes later, holding a dress shirt.
“Honey, where are my ties?”
I pointed toward the balcony. “There’s a pile over there. Take your pick.”
He stood in front of me, not moving.
I finally looked up. “What?”
“The tie,” he said, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “Are you… are you not going to tie it for me?”
“You have hands,” I said.
“Alright.”
He was so used to me picking out his clothes, matching his ties, even selecting his cufflinks for the day. I always made sure he looked sharp and appropriate for whatever meetings he had.
I’m actually a very casual person by nature. I only forced myself to become this meticulous, perfectly tailored wife after we got married. Organizing his ties by color gradient, ironing and hanging his shirts, keeping his wardrobe up to date with the latest trends.
“I can’t get it right,” he muttered, fumbling with the silk. “Help me.”
I stood up and took the tie from him. I looped it around his collar, yanked it up tight, and nearly choked him.
“James, you can’t keep depending on me like this,” I said quietly. “What if I leave one day?”
