Wishful thought

I hug my belly tightly, feeling the weight of the world crashing down on me. Tears stream down my face, a mix of sadness, frustration, and disbelief.

A few hours ago, he was delaying signing the divorce agreement. But now he wants me to put the divorce before Grandma's birthday, just to please Megan! He even asked me to lie to Grandma and say that I wanted to end the marriage.

The realization hits me like a thunderbolt, shattering the fragile hope I hold onto.

My thoughts spin in disarray, my mind unable to grasp the magnitude of his cruelty.

How could he be so calloused?

Grandma always liked me, and the thought of her knowing about our impending divorce fills me with immense sorrow. I know she would be devastated.

But I can't continue this charade any longer. I can't bear the pain and uncertainty that comes with loving a man who doesn’t even have a smidgeon of feelings for me. It's time to take control of my own happiness and protect myself from further hurt.

Summoning every ounce of strength I have left, I wipe away my tears and hail a taxi to the mansion.

As the taxi speeds through the city streets, my heart races with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. The journey feels both long and short, with the seconds ticking away as my resolve strengthens.

Several minutes later, I arrive at my destination. The mansion looms ahead. With each step I take toward the front door, I brace myself for the challenges that lie ahead. I take a deep breath, steadying my trembling hands, and push open the grand entrance.

My eyes scan the familiar surroundings as I walk into Grandma’s room. But my heart skips a beat when I notice Megan standing there, by George's side.

Confusion and curiosity cloud my mind. Why is she here instead of going home?

I push the questions away for now, knowing that Grandma's well-being is my priority.

Approaching Grandma's bedside, I offer her a warm smile, masking the turmoil within me.

"You look good, Grandma… always beautiful." I try to make the atmosphere light. "How are you feeling now?"

I hold her hand.

However, she surprises me as she pushes my hand away.

"I don’t need all this. Tell me first, how are you?"

My gaze involuntarily shifts towards George, his penetrating stare making me uneasy. I suppress my pain and answer Grandma with a reassuring smile, "I am fine. What will happen to me? I am absolutely okay. Now let me check on you."

Grandma sighs deeply. She doesn’t push me away this time. Her expression turns cold as she turns her attention to Megan.

There is tension in the room, and I can sense Megan's discomfort. Grandma sternly reminds Megan that George is already married, emphasizing that I am his legal wife.

"You should keep your distance from him," she asserts. "Don’t keep clinging to him even in the presence of his wife."

Megan's face pales, her composure faltering. The truth hits her, and it's evident that Grandma's words have disturbed her deeply.

Trying to ease the situation, I speak up, my voice calm but determined.

"I have no issues with George and Megan's friendship, Grandma. There is no need to worry."

I attempt to reassure her that everything is well between me and George. Inside, my heart aches, but I maintain my facade, determined to show strength and maturity.

The air in the room feels heavy, charged with unspoken emotions and unfulfilled desires. I continue to attend to Grandma, focusing on her well-being while keeping a watchful eye on the dynamics unfolding before me.

I feel Grandma's annoyance wash over me as she shows her disinterest in talking to me, pouting and turning aside. I understand her dissatisfaction, and I desperately want to mend the situation and bring a smile back to her face.

With determination, I move over to George, taking his hand in mine and mustering a coquettish smile.

"Megan, can I borrow my husband for a while?" I ask, seeking a moment of connection with George.

Megan's irritation is evident, but in front of Grandma, she reluctantly nods in response.

"Thank you, Megan."

I walk out of the room to the hall and steal a glance back at Grandma, whose enthusiastic smile reassures me that I'm on the right path, trying to please her.

However, George scowls at me as we settle on the sofa in the hall. Confusion and hurt flicker in my eyes as he questions my behavior.

"What is it? I did expect such a childish and possessive act from you."

His words sting and I feel a pang of insecurity.

"Megan is his friend and a guest," he reminds me. "You shouldn't feel insecure if I engage in conversation with her."

I try to gather my thoughts, keeping my voice steady as I respond. "I... I didn't mean to appear possessive or insecure," I utter, searching for the right words. "It's just that... Grandma seemed disappointed, and I wanted to make her happy. I thought spending some time together would help bridge the gap."

I pause, taking a breath. "I didn't mean to overstep any boundaries or make you uncomfortable. I apologize if I did."

Inside, I wrestle with my conflicting emotions. I wanted to please Grandma and ensure her happiness, but I didn't want to strain my relationship with George in the process.

"Grandma is weak now and cannot take any tension. Another heart attack can be dangerous for her. We have to be careful around her."

As I meet George's gaze, searching for any sign of understanding, I silently hope that he sees the sincerity in my eyes. I long for a deeper connection, a bond that can weather the storm, and a shared understanding of the complexities that surround us.

But I can only see coldness. I sigh and turn my head away, trying to put on a brave face despite the ache in my heart.

"I know it is difficult for you. But can you act more intimately with me to make Grandma happy?"

I turn to face him, who nods slowly.

George's agreement brings a fleeting sense of relief, but I can't shake the underlying tension in his demeanor. It's as if every touch and every smile are forced, devoid of the warmth we once shared.

I can feel his uneasiness and even a trace of loathing directed toward me. It cuts deep, and tears threaten to spill from my eyes.

I fight to keep my emotions in check, to maintain a facade of strength. I blink away the tears, mustering a feeble smile that barely masks the pain within.

After the meal, George left with Megan. I stay with Grandma because I want to spend a little more time with her.

She holds my hands and smiles reassuringly. "Everything will be fine, darling. Don’t be concerned. George will understand your value and love you back as long as you get pregnant."

The mention of pregnancy catches me off guard, and my hand instinctively rests on my flat belly. There is a pang of uncertainty and fear.

Will having a baby truly be enough to mend the broken pieces of our relationship?

I look at Grandma, her eyes full of wisdom and understanding.

"If you give birth to a baby, George will dumb that bitch."

She believes in the power of new life, the transformative force it can wield. It's a comforting thought, but I know it's just wishful thinking.

You are a liar.

Later that day…

I sit on the edge of the bed, exhaustion weighing heavily on me. The events of the day replay in my mind—the hurtful words and the undeniable distance between George and me.

It's clear that our marriage has reached a point of no return.

George's lack of feelings for me has become painfully evident; his request for a divorce is a stark reminder of his indifference. I can no longer bear to stay in this place, where I am unwanted and unloved.

Tomorrow, I will leave this house, this life that holds nothing but sorrow and unrequited love. With a heavy heart, I begin packing my remaining belongings into another suitcase.

As I finish packing, weariness washes over me, pulling me toward sleep.

Just as I close my eyes, my phone rings, jolting me back to reality. I check the phone and notice the name, Jason.

It's George's friend.

I wonder why he is calling me. I push away my questions and answer the phone.

"Hello…"

"George is drunk. He is unconscious in a bar. Please come quickly and pick him up." His voice is filled with concern and urgency.

A mix of emotions surges within me. Anger, frustration, and a lingering sense of duty clash in my mind.

George left with Megan, completely ignoring my presence. Then he got drunk, I don’t know why.

Why is his friend calling me? Why is he not informing Megan instead?

I am furious.

A bitter smirk tugs at the corners of my lips, realizing that George must have left Megan behind and found himself in a drunken mess. The irony of the situation is almost laughable.

"Why are you calling me instead of Megan? Shouldn't you be asking her to come and pick up George?"

"Ah, the apathetic wife who's ready to leave her husband for another woman," Jason said sarcastically. "Quite a sight, isn't it?"

My blood boils at the audacity of such an assumption.

"You have no right to pass judgment without knowing the truth," I snarl coldly. "Don't assume you understand the complexities of our situation."

My initial instinct is to end the call and detach myself from the chaos that seems to follow George wherever he goes. But before I can disconnect, Jason exclaims, "Look, I don't have much time. I have something important to take care of, and I can't stay with George for long. Just come quickly, will you?"

Frustration mixes with a sense of duty, pulling at my heartstrings. Despite the pain he has caused me, I can't simply abandon him in his intoxicated state. I can't ignore the fact that he is in trouble and that he needs someone to look out for him.

As much as I despise the situation, there is a lingering sense of responsibility that I cannot shake off. I sigh deeply, knowing that this is yet another task that falls upon me as the responsible one.

I grab my purse and dash out of the house. I stop a cab and ask the driver to take me to the Moonlight Bar.

It is the same bar where I used to go and vent my frustration whenever I was upset. I stopped going there ever since George came into my life.

I sigh and wonder why he has gone there. My mind is full of questions as I look at the rapidly moving scenery.

Several minutes later…

I step out of the taxi, my heart heavy with the weight of the situation.

The bar stands before me, its flickering neon sign casting an eerie glow on the dimly lit street. Memories flood my mind as I take a deep breath and push open the heavy door, the familiar scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke enveloping me.

Inside, the bar is bustling with activity. The air is thick with laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses.

I navigate through the crowd, scanning the dimly lit room in search of George. My eyes lock on a figure leaning back on the sofa with his eyes closed, disheveled and lost in a sea of empty glasses.

My steps falter as I approach him.

"You are finally here." Jason comes over to me. "I got to go now. Please take care of him."

He simply walks out.

I watch his figure disappear from my sight and then look back at George.

George, once so composed and confident, now appears vulnerable and broken. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, and his hair is disarrayed, evidence of a night gone awry. There are vomit stains on his shirt.

I have never seen him like this before.

Taking a deep breath, I gather my courage and make my way towards him. The clinking glasses and boisterous laughter fade into the background as I reach his side.

I hesitate for a moment, observing him from a distance, trying to reconcile the image before me with the man I once knew.

"George…" I tap on his shoulder.

He raises his head slightly, his bleary eyes meeting mine.

"It's time to go home," I say softly, my voice laced with a hint of concern.

He blinks slowly, struggling to focus. His lips form a faint smile, tinged with remorse. I can see the weight of his actions etched on his face, and a pang of sympathy stirs within me.

As I help him to his feet, his arm slung over my shoulder, I can't help but feel a sense of déjà vu.

This bar, once a sanctuary for my frustrations, now holds a different significance. It's a reminder of the complexities of our relationship and the challenges we face.

Leaving the bar behind, we step out into the night, the cool breeze washing over us. The taxi awaits, ready to carry us home.

With the help of the driver, I put him into the car. As soon as I step in, the car starts running down the street.

I guide George into the house, the weight of his body pressing against me. His stumbling steps threaten to throw us off balance, but I persevere, determined to clean him up and make him comfortable.

Every movement feels like a struggle as I navigate the narrow hallway, the scent of alcohol clinging to the air.

Finally, we reach the bathroom, its tiled floor cool beneath my feet. I support George as best I can, urging him to stand upright while I gather the necessary supplies.

His unsteady gaze meets mine, clouded with the remnants of intoxication. I see a spark of defiance flicker in his eyes, and my heart sinks.

As I attempt to guide him onto the toilet seat, I almost lost my balance.

"Ah…" I hug him instinctively.

My heart is thumping. Before I could calm down, he grabs my arms and pins me against the wall.

"George," I say softly, my voice tinged with concern. "What are you doing?"

His gaze pierces mine. He tightens his grip and snarls, "You… you are a liar."

I am stunned and gape at him, trying to process his words.