The next morning, I woke to find the bedroom door still locked from the inside. My wife usually woke up around the same time and we did the chores around the house. But not today, after the revelation last night.
Today, she remained in the bedroom. I knew she was awake, I could hear her walking about. I could feel her stomping. I could feel her crying.
Hesitant, I knocked on the door. Her movements stopped. I could hear her breathing, fast and raged, but she did not open the door, nor did she say anything.
So, I cooked the food, had some and left for work. At work, I tried to distract myself by talking with colleagues and customers. But, I felt reality crushing me.
My marriage was doomed. She would file for divorce. Her family would have to be told everything. The divorce proceedings would affect my career. My colleagues and by extension the company would be notified of my divorce and the reason. I would end up losing my job. The house and other financial assets would be divided equally, meaning I would probably have to sell my half and move out. So, possible unemployment and homelessness in my future.
As I reached home, I fully expected a posse of our relatives gathered at our house waiting for me. I stood there, at our door, expecting the worst possible outcome. Sighing, I keyed open the lock and stepped in our house.
The house was empty. No relatives waiting for me on the luxury couch. No rage filled eyes making me feel shame. Nothing, but an empty living room. Quickly, removing my shoes and putting my office bag away, I did a circuit of the house.
No one in the kitchen. The food was untouched, going bad. Bedroom door was unlocked, no one in the bedroom. The bed was made up, but my wife wasn't home and I did not know where she was.
I had a quick dinner, did the dishes and dried and put away everything. As I waited on the couch, the door opened and my wife came home. I stood up on seeing her, tried to say something, but she averted my gaze and walked back to the bedroom, closing the door behind her without saying a word.
