All Chapters of His Game, His Misery: Chapter 11 - Chapter 18

Mika used to believe that if two people loved each other, they could solve anything by talking.It was one of the things she had believed most firmly about relationships. Arguments were normal. Misunderstandings happened. People said things they regretted. But if both people were willing to listen, apologize, and make changes, the relationship could survive.With Mark, however, every conversation seemed to end with Mika apologizing for starting it.She had begun to dread the words Can we talk?Not because she was afraid of difficult conversations, but because she knew how easily they could turn against her.She could begin by asking about a bill and end up defending her personality. She could ask why Mark had canceled their plans and find herself accused of being controlling. She could tell him that something hurt her, only to spend an hour reassuring him that she didn't think he was a terrible person.By the end, the original problem would still be waiting.And somehow, she would fee

Mark decided that Mika needed to remember the good things.Not because he had suddenly become grateful for her, or because he had spent the night considering what she had written in her notebook. He had barely thought about his behavior at all.What bothered him was that Mika had stopped reacting the way she used to.She was still polite. She still cooked enough rice for two. She still asked whether he needed anything from the grocery when she went downstairs. But she no longer treated every shift in his mood as an emergency.Mark missed being able to change the temperature of the room simply by walking into it.So on Saturday afternoon, he bought her a small bouquet from a flower stall near the main road.It wasn't expensive. He paid for it using money he had originally set aside for a betting deposit, then told himself he could replace the amount after his next win.When he arrived home, Mika was folding laundry.“What's that?” she asked.“For you.”She looked at the flowers, surpri

Kinabukasan, maagang nagising si Mika.Tahimik pa ang apartment. Sa sala, nakapatay ang computer ni Mark, at nakakalat pa sa mesa ang baso ng tubig na ginamit nito kagabi. Sa kuwarto, mahimbing pa rin ang tulog ng boyfriend niya, walang kaalam-alam sa mga tanong na gumulo sa isip niya hanggang hatinggabi.Saglit niya itong tiningnan bago bumangon.Despite everything, hindi niya kayang tingnan si Mark bilang isang taong puro kasamaan lang. Naalala pa rin niya ang lalaking nagdala sa kanya ng lugaw noong may sakit siya, ang lalaking nakinig sa mga kuwento niya tungkol sa mga pangarap niya noong bago pa naging komplikado ang lahat. May mga sandaling genuine ang lambing nito. May mga pagkakataong natawa sila sa mga bagay na silang dalawa lang ang nakakaintindi.Hindi naman kasinungalingan ang lahat ng masasayang alaala nila.Pero hindi rin nabubura ng mga alaalang iyon ang sakit na nararanasan niya ngayon.Sa kusina, naghanda si Mika ng almusal. Nagprito siya ng itlog, nag-init ng kanin,

Mika had barely begun to imagine a life beyond Mark when he gave her another reason to question herself.It happened on a Tuesday evening, over something as ordinary as dinner.She had just finished reheating the food when Mark walked into the kitchen, smiling at his phone. It was an expression she hadn't seen directed at her in weeks—light, unguarded, almost boyish.“What's funny?” she asked.“Nothing.”He continued typing.Mika placed the plates on the table. “You're smiling at your phone.”“So?”“I'm just asking.”Mark finally looked up. “Can't I smile without being interrogated?”“Okay, Mark. Forget it.”She sat down and started eating.For a few minutes, the only sounds were their utensils against the plates and the television playing softly in the background. Then Mark put his phone on the table, screen facing up.“Cassandra invited me to hang out with her friends this weekend.”Mika's hand paused over her plate.“Ah. Okay.”“Okay lang?”She looked at him. “What do you want me t