Chapter 5 #3
"At this point, it doesn't matter what the fuck I tell you, because you're gonna always come back to this one question."
"You're still not answering the question."
A dry laugh escapes me, feeling like I'm completely losing my mind.
"Because it doesn't matter," he argues. "And I just answered you a minute ago. AND I answered that same question over… and over… and over. Have you forgotten? The fuck is wrong with you?"
"What do you mean? Even if I ask you a million times, at no point should the answer not be, 'Hey. No. I'm not cheating on you. We're still good.'"
"Okay. So even if I was cheating on you, you'd want me to lie?"
"What the fuck? No!" I answer, my words shrill and outraged.
I cannot lose my temper, because if I do, it's just gonna make me look like I'm the crazy one. Shaking my head, I start pacing around the room.
"Do you not wanna do this anymore or something?"
"That's not what I said. Those are your words."
"Daniel, I've been trying my best. I'm trying right now, like..."
My voice is shaking. You know when you're so angry, you're trying your hardest not to lose it because then they're just gonna say you're crazy?
Even though you're well within your right to experience fucking emotions when someone is driving you up the fucking wall?
It's like he's deliberately trying to make me crash out, but I don't. I hold on to my sanity, keeping my voice from breaking, because it honestly feels like he gets off on watching me get emotional.
So I refuse to give him that satisfaction.
"I'm trying to make this work," I say quietly, trying to be the one who stays level-headed. "But I cannot make this work if you don't wanna make it work."
"The only thing we need to make work, Melody..." he stops for a second, glaring at me. "...is you growing up and understanding that I have to go to work and you do jack shit, and you getting off my ass about it like a good wife should."
"Excuse me?" My eyes narrow into slits.
"Nobody else rides their husband the way you do."
"I'd love to ride my husband, but he won't fucking let me because he's hardly ever here! And when he is here, he apparently doesn't like sex, or maybe he's getting it somewhere else."
"There you go again," he throws a hand up.
"Wow. Maybe I should go out there and fuck someone," I blurt out, knowing damn well the second it leaves my mouth that it was the wrong thing to say.
"Do you," he retorts, almost under his breath.
You see that right there? That's what actually terrifies me. That's what makes me so mad, because he legitimately does not care if I sleep with someone else.
"So you'd be okay with me going out there and fucking another guy?"
"Whatever, Melody. I don't give a fuck."
Does he really, actually mean that?
"So that means you're fucking someone else."
"Whatever you say, Melody."
He grabs his shit and heads straight into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.
I'm not gonna follow him.
What the hell am I even doing? No, seriously. Is he cheating on me? Because what else is going on here?
I'm trying not to go there. I'm trying not to be that insecure person.
And yeah, I've asked him in the past. Maybe a little bit too much, but he gave me every reason to ask.
When you see weird shit going on right in front of your eyes, or when someone you've been with for years starts acting completely different; being away constantly and barely ever coming home, anybody would ask that fucking question.
And now it's a crime to ask?
The real question is:
Why doesn't he want me to ask in the first place?
I pace the floor, suddenly feeling like an idiot in what I'm wearing, feeling like a whore in my own house.
This is my husband, and he's treating me like some side bitch he dumped.
It feels like he wants me to be the one to leave, doing everything in his power to feign disinterest, or maybe he really is that checked out, just to push me into being the one who walks away.
Except I'm married to him.
He looks at me, narrowing his eyes even more. His skin is absolutely flawless.
Suddenly, a memory assaults my mind. Back when we were living at our other home, he would come home and just attack me with kisses. I'd be on a call with a friend, and he'd just keep kissing me, completely unable to wait to put his dick inside of me.
"Daniel," I whispered, holding my phone away from my face. "You have to wait till I get off the phone."
"I wanna fuck you now. I can't wait to fuck you."
"Oh my god," I had said, laughing as I told the person on the line that I'd call them right back. And then he lifted me right up, both of us laughing out loud as we made our way to the bedroom.
We were so happy. So very happy. And it was a mere two years ago.
"I love you," he had told me back then. "You know how much I missed you?"
Seeing the crinkle in his eyes in that memory, remembering how he used to smile with his entire face... it just makes me so sad. It makes me grieve, because where is that man? It's definitely not the man standing in front of me now.
.---..-- .---.-.. .---..-. .--....- .--.---. .--..--- .--..-.- .---..-.