Cheryl
It took me an agonizingly long time, not to mention some nerve-racking critical thinking, to decide between Physics and Applied Mathematics for my major. Guess which one I chose? Yes, Applied Mathematics. I know, I know-I'm starting to regret it. Don't get me wrong, I'm doing fine in all my courses, but now I can't shake the feeling that choosing Physics would've given me the best of both worlds: an insight into both mathematics and physics. But then again, the decision is made. There's no point dwelling on it. I rubbed my sweaty palms together, hesitating before opening the email I'd received from Tonyhan. I had applied for an internship there this summer a week ago and sent a follow-up today. My portfolio had been impressive, but the nerves were still there, I guess that's normal. I tapped on my iPad screen, immediately closing my eyes, too scared to look. Slowly, I opened them, heart racing as I read through the message. "Yes!" I leapt up, heart pounding as I saw the acceptance. Still caught up in my excitement, I didn't hear my stepsister push the door open. She strolled into my room like it was hers, a smug expression on her face. My smile quickly faltered. "Your husband and his family are downstairs. Quit with the childish tantrums and get dressed," she hissed. I didn't bother responding, too annoyed. She strutted out of my room without a second glance. Asshole. Why was she back for the summer of all times? She could have gone anywhere else! Reality quickly slapped me in the face as I remembered the whole reason I had to get dressed in the first place: my upcoming nuptials. Did I just say nuptials? I felt old saying that. The familiar ache in my chest returned, though I'd never even met the man I was supposed to marry. Still, I knew it would be a disaster. I'd probably hate him just like I hated everyone else in my life. Cheryl? Pfff...my name should've been "bad luck" instead. "Doom" would've fit better. That's what my mom should've named me before dumping me on my dad, promising she'd return, but never did. My dad and his family had never loved me since I moved in at eight. I was shocked when my dad relayed the depressing news that I was getting married, but not surprised. Marrying me off to some "old man," as my dad had described him, was unexpected, though. Still, nothing with this family ever truly surprised me anymore. I slipped into the only black dress that could be considered impressive. It was tight, but flattering. I wanted to fix my messy hair, but who was I kidding? I wasn't about to impress an old man. Just when I thought I had gotten somewhere, saving up enough to one day escape this place, life slapped me in the face with yet another unfortunate twist. I forced my irritated expression to soften and hurried down the stairs, hoping I wouldn't get into trouble. When I reached the dining room, my dad, stepmom, and step siblings were already seated. I gave a slight bow of greeting to the elderly Korean man sitting at the table, laughing with my dad. The only thing remotely comforting about this whole marriage was that my future husband was Korean. At least there was some cultural familiarity. The man at the table, despite looking younger than his age, still struck me as painfully old to be marrying someone my age. "Annyeong, salang," the Korean man greeted me warmly. (Hello dear) I barely hesitated before replying, "Annyeonghaseyo, seonsaengnim." I bowed slightly again, trying to sound respectful. (Hello, sir) "Je ireumeun Anthony Han imnida," he introduced himself with a smile, graceful despite the age gap between us. His name sounded familiar, but it didn't click right away. (My name is Anthony Han) "Je ireumeun Cheryl Mills imnida," I replied awkwardly, trying to pronounce the Korean words as correctly as I could. (My name is Cheryl Mills) "Hahaha," his laughter boomed, rich and deep, filling the room. "Coming from a girl raised in the US, that's impressive. When your dad mentioned you were half Korean, I knew you were the perfect bride for my son," he said, his smile widening. His son? I breathed a sigh of relief, though the thought of marrying anyone was still unsettling. "I don't know why he isn't here yet," Mr. Han added before digging into his meal. The conversation died there. He didn't seem the type to talk much while eating. We all finished dinner, but Mr. Han's son still hadn't shown up. "Is your son ever going to show up?" my dad asked, breaking the silence. Mr. Han sighed and pulled out his phone just as footsteps echoed in the hall. My eyes snapped up just as a broad-shouldered figure, easily over six feet tall, entered the room. He was wearing a crisp black suit and a long coat, walking with the grace of a panther. "Ohh, there he is," Mr. Han sighed, chuckling awkwardly. I froze. Is that him? He was drop-dead gorgeous.CherylThat night, I got home late on purpose. No husband. No pressure to pretend I wasn’t overthinking everything.My phone buzzed from across the room. I looked over at the table and dug it out of my bag.Miles.A FaceTime call.Who the hell taught my old man how to use FaceTime?I laughed to myself and picked up the call.“Hi, baby,” I said, waving at the screen.It was just an empty chair in front of a desk at first. His phone must’ve been propped up.“What were you smiling about?” his voice finally filled the silence. Then he appeared, sliding into his chair.“You,” I teased. “I was just wondering who taught my old man how to use video calls.”He pouted dramatically. “What do you mean, baby? I’m not even that old.”I laughed, full and loud.“I miss you,” he said.“I miss you too,” I replied. “I’ve been so busy today just to keep my mind off you. But it didn’t work. I still miss you.”“I should’ve brought you with me.”He took a sip from a cup.“What’s that?” I asked, setting the
Cheryl “Hi, baby,” Miles whispered, brushing a soft kiss across my cheek. His lips were warm, his voice low like we were sharing a secret in the dark. It had to be around 4 a.m.—maybe a little past.“Hi,” I murmured sleepily, blinking the heaviness from my lashes. “Are you ready to leave?”“Yes,” he whispered again, even softer.“What time is it?” I asked, my voice thick and raspy from sleep.“4:30 in the morning.”“You really have to leave this early?” I asked, stretching slowly beneath the duvet.He nodded. “I wish I didn’t.”“But I’ll miss you,” I pouted, reaching for him even though I knew he had to go.“I’ll be back before you know it. It’s just a week,” he murmured, kissing me everywhere—my temple, my jaw, the corner of my lips. “A quick trip. I promise.”It hurt more than I wanted to admit. We’d only just gotten back to good—really good—and now he was disappearing for a whole week. It felt unfair.“Can’t I just come with you?” I asked, my lips forming a slight pout.“You could
Cheryl I got back home later than usual, mostly because I stayed late at work to make up for my earlier therapy appointment.“Hi, Cheryl,” Chris greeted, eyeing me with his usual mix of concern and observation.“Hi,” I returned softly.Chris being here meant Miles was home too. That was a little surprising—it was early for him to be back, especially since he’d missed a few days of work trying to patch things up with his cold, withdrawn wife.Me.But today I felt different. Not exactly happy, but lighter. Indifferent in a strange, calm way. The constant weight pressing on my chest for weeks seemed to lift just a little. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t sad. I was just… normal. Normal enough to admit to myself that I missed my husband inside me. Missed his touch. Missed us.My session with the therapist helped more than I expected. Do I still mourn the idea of having children? Yes. And maybe, just maybe, I still blame Miles for that. But is that reason enough to keep living like this—emotional
Cheryl “Dear Cheryl,”I blinked hard, trying to fight back the tears that stung my eyes. I inhaled deeply and composed myself, bracing for the words that followed.**“It was never my intention to make you sad. I never wanted to hurt you. After Jenny, I accepted that no woman was going to agree to be with me once they found out I didn’t want to have children. It was something my father and I fought about constantly, a battle that strained our relationship more than anything else ever did. He eventually started trying to find me a wife—without my consent, by the way. When he found you, he basically threatened me into marrying you.I was furious. Furious that I had to go through all of it again. I was terrified that what happened with Jenny would happen again. So I looked into you. I read about your family—your history—and realized you were almost twenty years younger than me. You had a terrible past and I thought maybe… maybe we could help each other.I thought we’d both benefit. You c
Miles I turned on soft music as I got dressed for work. I don’t even like music—never have—but this particular song has described my life perfectly for the past three months. I’ve listened to it every day for the past two weeks, like it’s the only thing that understands me.Cheryl was getting ready for work too.I expected her to tease me—maybe say something about when I started liking music or how my taste in songs had suddenly become so corny. But she said nothing. She looked so uninterested, emotionally checked out, the same way she’d been for the past three months.I don’t know what else to do.I’ve tried everything I can think of to fix things, to bring her back to me. But she’s like a ghost now. She talks to me—but barely. She acts normal, but there’s this icy distance. And when I try to bring up the shots or ask if she’s mad or hurting, she just sighs and shuts down.It’s killing me.Did she really agree to stay in this marriage just to punish me forever?I combed my hair in t
Cheryl The doctor’s appointment was today—about a week after I agreed to start taking the shots. Chris was back, by the way. I had to apologize to him for jumping him like some desperate lunatic. He didn’t say much in return, just gave me that quiet, knowing look of someone who had seen too much. I skipped breakfast—I didn’t have the appetite for it. My stomach was a wreck, tied in anxious knots that made eating feel impossible.But it wasn’t the shots that had me so wound up.It was the pregnancy test. The part that came before. The part that could change everything.If it came back positive, I wouldn’t have to take the shot. I wouldn’t have to keep pretending. I’d have a reason to fight harder. A reason to stay. A reason that would make this pain feel worth something.God, just give me one child. Just one. I don’t care if it’s a girl, a boy, or even twins. Just let me be a mother. Let me have that.Don’t ask me why I agreed to the shots if I wanted it this badly. I can’t even expla