Reyansh Carter
Have you ever felt your world shifting beneath your feet? That’s exactly how I feel as I remember Aisha’s words.
“I wished for a divorce.”
Those were her words when I asked her what she wished for while blowing out the candles. I expected anything but not that.
My world pivoted the moment she said those words, and I was no longer able to hear the background noise, no longer able to comprehend what was going on around me.
All that mattered to me was how could she even think that I would agree to that? She could ask me for anything, and I would get it for her. If she would ask me to bring the world to her knees, I would do anything in my power to make that wish come true.
But not this. Not letting her go.
I couldn’t stand after that; my knees felt weak enough to give out, so I ran out.
Was it a dick move? Maybe
But how was I supposed to react to that? How the fuck was I supposed to react to the love of my life wanting a divorce from me?
So, I did what felt like the most reasonable thing to do. I ran out and sat down in my car.
Sounds like a valid crash-out to me.
Now, she sits beside me, maybe waiting for me to say something, but like always, she has managed to stun me into silence. Though this time she has also managed to shatter my heart and the hope I had been brewing inside me to get my wife back to me.
Has it been too late?
There’s silence as I drive, my knuckles white on the steering wheel with the way I am gripping it.
I am not even mad at her. I would have probably done the same thing if I were in her position.
After all, I have hurt her too much.
“I wasn’t joking, you know,” she says after a while, her eyes boring a hole in the side of my face, but I don’t have the heart to look at her at the moment. Because I know my face will give it all away. “I really do want a divorce.”
“I can tell,” I answer, my voice sharper than I intended it to be.
Why would she want a divorce before giving our relationship one last try? I know it has been hard. I know I haven’t been the best husband to her, but I have also never thought about letting her go. I can’t imagine it. The fact that the words were so easy for her to say out loud pierces my heart.
“So, you will give it to me?”
“Give you what?” I ask as I make the car come to an abrupt halt just a few steps away from our front door. She flinches forward, and my hand automatically goes towards her, making sure she is safe through it all.
Her eyes drift momentarily towards my hand before she focuses back on me.
“Divorce. You will give me a divorce.”
I laugh, but it’s as hollow as I feel right now.
“No, Aisha. I won’t. I know we have problems, and I know they are because of me, but how could you even think that I would be okay with this? How did you think I would so easily agree to letting you go?”
“Are you kidding me, Reyansh?” she unbuckles her seat belt, and I withdraw my hand.
“How could I think of it? How can you not think of it? We haven’t been in a relationship for the past few years.
We haven’t even acted like friends, let alone two people who got married because they once loved each other.
Why would I not think of ending this marriage when it ended a long time ago?
I am just asking you to put a stamp on it. ”
All my mind focuses on while she lets her heart out is “two people who once loved each other.” Is that true? Is that all we have become according to her?
“I know there are problems, Aisha. I want to fix things; I just ask of you to let me do that.”
My voice is downright pleading, but I don’t care.
I will get on my damn knees if need be.
“It’s been too late, Reyansh.”
My eyes well up as I look at her, only to find the same pained expression mirrored in her eyes.
I don’t care what she thinks. This is not how we will end up.
I lift up my fingers to wipe away the lone tears that slip out of her eyes unknowingly.
She sucks in a deep breath as I cup her cheek and rest my forehead against hers. This close I can smell her perfume that always used to turn me into a maniac. Just like everything about her used to and still does to this date.
“Aisha, please,” I whisper with my eyes closed. “I am so sorry, but please let me fix this—fix us. Please, I beg you. Don’t give up.”
She shakes her head, pulling away from me enough that I can look at her now, but I don’t let her go.
“Too late, Reyansh,” she sniffles. “I want you to give me a divorce, and you can’t say no. You will have to.”
My eyes turn cold as I look at her. She has always been stubborn. Ziddi, as her mother calls her.
Too bad I am ziddi too. Especially when it comes to her.
“Over my dead fucking body, Aisha.”
* * *
Aisha stares at me, her look confusing. I don’t know what’s going on in her mind, but I know that she didn’t expect this response from me. Maybe she expected me to give up, but what she doesn’t know is that I would give up everything I have ever had or achieved but not her.
She doesn’t make it to that list.
She pulls away from me with a grimace, her eyebrows furrowed together and her breathing heavy, and I just know that if she could beat me with her chappal, she would happily do so.
She gets out of the car and gives me one last look before slamming the door in my face, and I close my eyes.
Fuck, I was so close to losing control over myself. I need to keep myself in check. I cannot be having thoughts about my wife when all she wants from me is divorce.
I take a few deep breaths in before parking the car in its right spot and then stepping out.
When I get in our house, I am met with dead silence, and once I quietly move into my room, I find Aisha to be packing her bags.
I lean against the door frame with my arms crossed, watching her huff and stuff all her clothes in a mess in her suitcase.
“What are you doing, wife?” I ask.
Am I treading a dangerous boundary by pissing off my already pissed-off wife? Yes
Do I know any other way to cope? No
She rolls her eyes before choosing to ignore my words.
“If you are thinking I will let you go this late at night? Then you’re undeniably wrong, Aisha.”
“You can’t stop me; I am an adult.”
“Yes, I can tell.”
She stomps her foot on the floor before walking towards the closet and making a mess of my clothes too.
“Aisha,” I say softly this time. “Don’t leave, please. Especially when our mothers are coming to visit us.”
She stops with whatever she was planning on doing further, but I do see a leather belt in her hands, and I am glad she is not planning on using it on me.
At least, I hope she was not. You don’t want to meet the angry version of her. She turns into violent Punjabi moms, and I say that as someone who has witnessed that firsthand. First through her and then once when her mother was scolding her because she hid our relationship from her.
“What?”
I curse myself inwardly as I wonder why, out of all the things that I could say to her, I decided to come up with this. But I also know that nothing I would say would work at the moment.
This was my best bet.
“Are you for real, or is this your way of keeping me here?” she questions, mirroring my posture, and I just know there’s no way she for real wants a divorce.
She is mad at me. I think that might be a small word for what she might be feeling towards me, but there’s no way she hates me or this marriage.
“I am not bluffing,” I say, trying to school my face. “It was supposed to be a surprise, but I guess now it’s not. Both of them love you—and us, Aisha. I know you are upset. Fuck, even more than that, but please. Stay.”
Her forehead wrinkles enough to tell me that she is thinking hard about this. Analyzing and re-analyzing every aspect of this.
But I know she cares about our parents, and I know she is not ready to tell them the messy and ugly truth about our relationship. Not yet, at least.
“Fuck it, fine.”
I bite my inner cheek to control myself from smiling out loud. But my heart does a little happy, unhinged dance inside my chest. At least I got her to stay for now.
As I watch her take out her clothes from the bag and throw them inside the closet rather harshly, I try to come up with something that might make this mess a little better.
I got her to stay, but now I have to figure out how to get both of our moms here.
* * *
Turns out asking for our mothers to come here instantly was a bad move. They either keep assuming she is pregnant, one of us is sick, or that something bad has happened.
So I asked Aarav for help. He cursed me in Hindi, calling me shit I would much rather not tell anyone. I asked him to tell the truth to Aisha’s mom because there’s no way I could handle two of these women alone and not tell them the truth too.
So now, here I am. Sitting on the front steps of my house as I get yelled at by Mom for messing up the one good thing in my life.
“I can’t believe it,” she says, and I can just picture her shaking her head in disappointment. “I am so hurt and disappointed.”
“I know,” I sigh. “I am too. I know I messed up, Mom. I know it all too well. But I am trying to fix it. I just need you to help me too.”
She grumbles profanities under her breath on the phone, and I look up at the sky in the meantime, wondering how the hell I am going to fix this all.
“Fine,” she says. “I am coming.” Book my flights and Meher’s too. I can’t believe we have to step in to save our almost-thirty kids’ marriage.”
“Sure, Mom,” I smile a little. “I will send you the details.”
“And Rey?”
“Yes, Mom?”
“If you have hurt her too much, you best believe I will stand by her side in filing a divorce.”
I gulp the lump forming in my throat. I just hope it doesn’t come down to that.
“Yes, Mom. I understand.”
She hangs up on me after that, and my shoulders slump down.
What my mom doesn’t know is that if I have hurt her to the point where I can’t get my wife, my Aisha, back, I will end my life myself.
Because my life would be worthless without her anyways.