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002 Time Limited Dream
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2025-05-26 23:45:01I blink in confusion, trying hard to think as a timid murmur slips out of me, “What…?” My body tenses up in fear before my zombie brain can process his question.
I messed up.
That’s what his face is telling me. But I couldn’t remember anything about a steak.
“I should have known,” He lets out a tired sigh, shaking his head with disappointment. He takes off his neatly ironed suit, hangs it, and walks to the kitchen while rolling up his sleeves.
Not another look at me.
I follow him nervously into the kitchen: “I’m really sorry! I must have forgotten--”
“Of course you did. How could I expect you to keep my dinner in that precious head of yours?” Damien snorts with a sarcastic tone, pulling out a bag of spaghetti with frozen tomato sauce, “Can I assume that you haven’t forgotten to eat yourself?”
“Actually--”
He ignores me and cooks only for himself.
I want to answer, but he says that just to show that he doesn’t want to eat with me. He knows I wouldn’t have eaten without him.
It’s not like I have any appetite anyway. Death is enough of a dish to handle.
“I’m sorry that I forgot to take out the steak. It won’t happen again.” I apologize. I understand his frustration. Surgeon is a stressful job. He came home with such anticipation of a promised dinner, and I let him down.
He snorts coldly at my apology.
His frustration is heavier than all the bad news dumped on me today. I have long stopped hoping for a loving husband, and I wouldn’t dare expect him to take care of me to my deathbed. But I cherish my stolen time with him, and that’s all I want before my mind decays.
Just, SOME good memories to leave behind before I exit life. Please.
“Damien, I know I have been a bit off recently--”
I don’t have time for fights, literally. I have so little time left, and I just want to enjoy them with you... Before you leave me in a cold tomb, for her.
Please.
He passes me with a cold glance, refusing to talk.
Just a cold glance from him, and my eyes are wet. Feeling wronged, I bite my lips to hold back my tears, losing all the strength to fight for anything else.
He has that kind of power over me. He knows how much I care about him. He knows just putting on a cold face would hurt me deeply, and he does not hesitate to use it.
A cold bitterness grabs me.
He turns off the kitchen light as he enters the living room, leaving me standing in the darkness. I watch my husband sit under the warm, cozy, yellow light with steam of food fuzzing his face. It’s a world too far for me to reach, when I’m stuck in the cold darkness called LBD.
We are in two different worlds now. One lively, and one dying. But then again, we have been drifting apart way before this.
He finishes his spaghetti, pushes the dish forward before he goes to the sofa. Half on his way, he stops and turns, pointing to the sofa with a nod of his chin: “Are you going to stand there throughout the night?”
The calm before the storm is coming to an end.
My horrible mistake won’t be over without a fight, a “proper” apology from me, and a satisfying closure for him.
I don’t know if I have that kind of energy in me today.
Thunder smells the coming storm, too. He is my two-year-old Border Collie. He could tell when Damien and I fight, and that scares him.
I kneel on one knee and pull Thunder into my arms. It calms him down a little. Once, at the very start of our marriage, I thought about having kids. But it was moments like this that scared me out of that decision.
Kids get hurt the most in a couple’s fight, and I am not strong enough to shelter them from such pain. It would work only for two people who love each other. Having kids, that is.
Damien does not love me.
Thunder calms down enough to sniffle me and lick. I let out a relieved breath and look up, only to see Damien staring down at our coffee table with a deep frown, as if seeing something disgusting.
I follow his eyes, and my heart stops when I realize what he is staring at—
It’s my diagnosis report.
Both of our eyes land on it, before they meet in midair. I freeze as I see fury lighting up in his.
He saw.
If I had two years with him when I got my diagnosis, I have lost that time-limited dream now.
Our marriage is over.
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