Chapter 1 My Ex-Boyfriend’s Favorite Butter Chicken Curry #4
I had wanted Kyohei to say, “Don’t be silly, I love you, I’m just tired today.” I’d wished he would pat my head and squeeze my hand. That was all I had wanted.
Was it, though?
“I admit there was a part of me that wanted him to feel hurt, at least a little.”
I set my spoon down and pressed my eyelids with a tissue. I had wanted to look immaculate on my last morning with Kyohei. All of my carefully applied makeup was now melting away.
“He knew I was hurting but pretended not to notice. We never had a real conversation about it—he evaded the topic, and that bothered me constantly. I was far from a perfect communicator myself, though. When Kyohei was busy, I played the role of the independent girl—the solitude-embracing woman I wished I was. I was too proud to tell him how I really felt.”
So, no matter how disinterested Kyohei behaved, I acted grown-up all the time. Even when he was being cold or turned me down.
But as we fell into this pattern of unspoken issues, anger started to boil up inside of me.
The stuff that I’m angry about concerns both of us, so why are you acting like that, like you seem to think that showing emotion is a childish thing to do? This is about us! Of course we should get emotional! How can you look at me like this has nothing to do with you?
Why is it that I can never cause you any pain?
“I suggested breaking up, hoping to see the pain in his face. For once, I wanted to be the cause of his anguish. I thought, if I could see him like that…”
It was a one-sided relationship. He would ignore my messages, leaving me on read for three days. When he finally did reply, it would just be a sticker.
I’d wait another three days before sending a harmless message like: It’s freezing today! Don’t catch a cold.
Even if he kept treating me this way, I would have been okay with it, if I could catch even the smallest glimpse of pain in his eyes. “I’m awful, aren’t I?”
It seemed that they were at a loss for words, and we all fell silent for a moment.
“That’s pretty normal, actually.” Iori took a sip of his coffee and said quietly, “What did he say after you laid down that ultimatum?”
“He told me that he had been trying to get me to dump him. He wanted me to break up with him, because he couldn’t bring himself to talk to me about it. He said he ignored my messages on purpose, pretended to forget important occasions so that I’d get the hint.”
Kyohei proceeded to apologize. In a feeble voice, he told me how sorry he was for all the mixed messages. He kept his head lowered, didn’t even look me in the eye. I wanted him to cry, at least a little, but he didn’t. I never saw a single tear.
“No part of him looked hurt. He was emotionless, calm. That was hard to take.”
“How can I say this…he’s not exactly a player, is he?” Iori said.
“That’s what I liked about him.”
Kyohei was a live-in-the-moment kind of guy, taking each day as it came.
Like an innocent child, he was oblivious to his surroundings.
He wasn’t the romantic type, but there were times when he tried to do something sweet, just to make me happy.
I wanted to feel those butterflies again.
I kept holding on, waiting for that version of Kyohei to come back.
“Suddenly, it was two in the morning. I would have preferred to keep arguing until sunrise, but we ran out of things to say to each other. In the end, we slept on opposite sides of the bed and parted ways at around eight o’clock.”
When I rolled over, I saw that Kyohei’s back was about two feet away from me. Until a moment ago, I could have reached out and touched his back. But now, he wasn’t mine to hold anymore.
If I hadn’t said, “Do you not love me anymore?”
If only I had said, “You’re tired, I understand.”
Then maybe I would be running my hand over his back right now.
A million could-haves floated above the bed, going round and round in circles all through the night.
“I can’t stop thinking about what I did wrong.
Did he think I was needy? I tried not to seem like it.
I made sure I waited at least an hour before replying to his messages, even if I was dying to write him back.
I really, really tried. I would have liked to tell him I loved him more often, but I held back so as not to scare him. ”
I thought about all the unsent I love yous I had deleted.
Even this morning, when I knew that we weren’t going to see each other again, I still couldn’t look him in the eyes and tell him I loved him. Instead of telling him how I felt, I waited and waited for him to suggest starting over.
“I love him. I’m in love with him.”
I felt a cold sensation on my cheeks. Droplets of tears trickled down my jaw and merged with my curry.
“I loved him. I loved everything about him. If things were going to end like this, I should have said it more.”
If I had, would I have no regrets?
I was scared—terrified—of being myself. I constantly thought about what it meant to be the perfect woman that he would desire. I wanted to be the good girlfriend. I spent all my effort trying, and this was where I ended up. I had turned into an overthinking idiot.
Kyohei never truly opened up to me, because I was so concerned with covering up my own flaws.
I struggled to control myself. Belatedly feeling embarrassed, I wiped my under-eyes with the sleeve of my dress and forced down the remaining flavorless curry.
When Kyohei said that my curry was delicious, he was probably just being polite. Maybe he had already been trying to find the right time to break up with me.
My hand gripping the spoon paused.
An image of his face appeared before me.
“This is the best curry I’ve ever had in my life!”
He ate a second helping, then another—he kept going until there was nothing left in the stockpot. When he realized he had demolished several days’ worth of curry in one night, he smiled as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
Had his smile been genuine, though?
“Maybe some ice cream will cheer you up,” Iori offered.
I needed to find out.
“Umm…My curry…”
“Huh?”
Of our four-year relationship, how much was true? How much was a lie? How much of it did I get right? How much of it did I get wrong?
I can’t trust anything anymore.
The question came blurting out: “Will you try Kyohei’s favorite curry?”
“Who?” Iori asked.
“You.”
“Me?”
“And him, the gentleman who looks like he belongs in a temple…it’s Hozumi, right?”
This seemed to catch Hozumi off guard. He spat out his water and sent himself into a coughing fit.
“Me as well?”
“I need more than one tester for the result to be credible.”
“Oh, well, I do have to get back to my training…”
Wiping his cheeks dry with a handkerchief, Hozumi slowly got up from his chair.
Iori grabbed him by the shoulders.
“Hozumi.” He smiled, bringing his face close to the tip of Hozumi’s nose. Iori’s delicate lips formed the most perfect curve, as if they belonged in a makeup ad. “You wouldn’t leave me here alone now, would you? That would be bad karma, wouldn’t it?”
Hozumi wrestled out of Iori’s grip and adjusted the collar on his samue.
“I’m just a customer here…”
“Please.” I bowed to them. Not only had they let me take a rest here, but they had also let me go on and on about my breakup. And now I was demanding that they try my curry recipe. I knew I was asking a lot.
“Please. I promise to pay you both back for this. I’ll come back to apologize properly. I’ll bring a box of sweets with me, too. Oh, and money. I have plenty of cash. I even have a fixed-term deposit account—”
I need this.
“Okay, okay. Tell me what you need.” Iori let out a sigh and made his way to the kitchen.
Pulling the fridge door open, he checked its contents.
“We have chicken and onions. Write me a list of anything you’re missing. I’ll run to the store.”
He handed me an apron and a notepad.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“It’s too late to turn back now; I might as well see it through. Besides,” Iori said with a somewhat lonesome grin, “you need to let your heart break completely when the opportunity arises, or else you’ll lose your chance to heal properly forever.”
—
Three plates of curry were neatly arranged on the table. A creamy, buttery curry infused with spices. As a finishing touch, I topped the dish with a sprinkling of dried parsley.
“P-please, go ahead,” I said. I swallowed hard, fixing my gaze on Iori and Hozumi.
They said, “Itadakimasu,” to show their appreciation before reaching for their spoons.
I watched them dig into the curry and rice as I rubbed my sweaty palms on my dress. When I tasted it earlier, it was good. I liked it for sure. The question was, would they?
Once Iori had swallowed his mouthful, he widened his eyes. “It’s amazing!”
“It is?”
“It’s really good. It’s pretty spicy, but it’s somehow still mellow. I love the flavor.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled.
“I can tell you spent a lot of time perfecting the recipe for your boyfriend. Hozumi, didn’t you already have my curry earlier? You must have been really hungry to devour a second plate.”
Hozumi, who had been shoveling the curry into his mouth, stopped momentarily. “To be honest…I am trying to get rid of the aftertaste from your curry, Iori.”
“Eh? That’s not nice.”
“Did you try tasting your curry today?” Hozumi asked.
“Oh…no.”
“I think you added too much water. It was really runny.”
Iori darted into the kitchen and tasted his curry. A look of disgust appeared on his face. He put the lid back on the pot. “I thought I had properly followed the recipe. The one I made yesterday was fine.”
“Maybe you got careless because I would be the only customer eating it?”
The two continued to argue nonchalantly.
So…Iori made an error when making the curry? There’s nothing wrong with my taste buds?
I drew my interrogative gaze closer to them.
“So it’s good?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s delicious.”
“You’re not just saying that because you feel sorry for me, are you?”
Showing me his near-empty plate, Iori asked, “Does it look like we feel bad?”