Rhea is working. Rhea is always working. I mutter to myself as she packs my lunch for today. One look at the clock and I slice through the heavy silence with the three magical words- I gotta go. Wordlessly, she puts the lunchbox in my bag and hands me the car keys. I grab the keys, the bag, kiss her goodbye and I'm out the door in record time. I try to better this record everyday. Jeez.. That house reeks of boredom. Perhaps my inattention towards my wife turned it that way, I ponder glumly. I stop outside a building and push my earlier thoughts away as I absorb the gorgeous view in front of me.
Sia is beautiful, warm and funny. She cares for me in not the motherly way that my wife has taken a liking to, but attending to my other pressing needs. The forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.
I'm playing the good husband. Helping her with groceries, going shopping, watching movies, all because Rhea seems to be on the brink of depression. I still care for her, mind you. But i have made up my mind. This can't go further anymore. We'd divorce but only when she is able to take it. Now doesn't seem a good option.
Rhea is warming up to me again. Her cheerful self is back and her laughter rings in my ears long afterwards. She is eager to please me. Numerous cuts on her hands as a result of spending hours preparing exotic delicacies stand testimony to it. That's why I love her so much; she is willing to forgive me and has shown unwavering patience with me. Only she could laugh it away when I brought her a tacky necklace with pointed gems that was a tad bit too tight and it left marks on her neck. Maybe it was just a rough patch in our marriage. I'm having second thoughts about the earlier decision.
They are here, ready to free me from this suffocating life. As they take him away, he looks at me with his bewildered eyes and I give him the coldest stare of his life . It was about time I pull curtains to his good husband show . He really thought I couldn't see through his act, with his lipstick smeared shirts and his business trips on public holidays. Hah! That's the twist in your life, my darling.
I admire the artwork on my body in the mirror; cuts, deep gashes, burnt skin and aah yes..the strangulation marks on my neck. That was a masterstroke. Six months of patience, planning and I find myself in front of them and uttering my three magical words - Act of Violence.
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This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.