1: 1
On the second morning of our marriage, Solomon Sanchez got up at five and cooked a whole table of breakfast, made with love.
I followed the smell to the kitchen.
I'd just picked up a soup dumpling, hadn't even gotten it to my mouth, when he slapped it out of my hand and onto the floor.
"That's for Blanchie. She's pregnant and picky, and she asked for my soup dumplings by name."
"Stop fighting her for food. Be reasonable and just order takeout for yourself, okay?"
Something sank in my chest, and I thought back to a post I'd scrolled past a while ago.
"My girl's pregnant, and I just want to spoil her rotten."
"Five-thousand-dollar premium Musang King durian, top grade—she said she wanted it, and I'd sooner rent my own wedding suit than lose a man's dignity over it."
The comments below were split, and one drew the most argument: "Unless the kid is actually yours, you're wasting your time."
I called Solomon without thinking. "Honey, the dry cleaner's here. I couldn't find the suit you changed out of yesterday."
He answered, irritated. "I spent every cent I'd saved these years just to marry you. The suit was rented. It's already been returned."
Inside, I laughed coldly.
"Is that so. Good timing—I've got something to return too."
1
I looked at the red double-happiness cutouts pasted all over the room, and a chill climbed up from the soles of my feet.
Solomon was a stubborn man.
Three years of dating, and he never spent a single extra cent on me.
We always split the bill when we ate out. He had a thing about cleanliness and never touched a cup I'd drunk from.
Even last night, our wedding night, he'd only gone through the motions with me before losing all interest and slipping out to the balcony to smoke alone, brooding.
A few minutes later, he came back to the bedroom.
One of the few romantic moments in a lifetime, and his heart clearly wasn't in it.
It only made me look desperate, flushed and half-reclined on the bed, waiting for him.
Solomon just gave me a cold look. "I'm tired. Going to sleep."
That night, we didn't even sleep under the same blanket.
I told myself it was just his nature, and most of the time I let things go.
I never forced my way into his circle of friends.
But at the wedding reception, a woman in a tight black leather skirt stood surrounded by a pack of his buddies, all of them egging her on—there was no way she wouldn't draw every eye in the room.
"Sol's getting married today, you must be crying your eyes out, huh? Serves you right, always stringing him along, feeding him that nonsense about wanting to be together forever but only as friends, never as a couple."
"Yeah, and once the new bride gets jealous, you're in for it."
The woman gave an indifferent little pout. "A man who ditches his friends for a woman—no loss."
When Solomon walked over with a glass in his hand, she launched herself into his arms from several feet away.
Ignoring the strange looks from everyone, she slid her fingertips down past his collar, tracing the tight, flat eight-pack of his abs.
Then she frowned and pretended to be put off. "Little brother, you've been too busy getting married lately? Not working out at all?"
Solomon's face broke into a wicked grin, and he shot back at her without holding back.
"I don't even want to say it—you've made zero progress on your figure all these years. Nothing to look at."
"That's your fault, from wearing me out."
The two of them traded barbs back and forth, not caring in the least about the embarrassment I couldn't hide on my face.
The relatives and friends around me kept sending me looks loaded with meaning.
"What's with this groom? However wild he wants to be, there's a time and place, isn't there?"
"The bride herself can put up with it, so what are you all getting worked up about? Really something."
I pulled Solomon into a side room, my eyes red, and asked him, "What exactly is going on between you and that woman out there?"
2: 2
"I treat her like one of the guys. If there were really anything between us, I wouldn't have married you."
He tossed the answer off carelessly, certain I wouldn't dare make a scene.
Then he patted my shoulder and said with a slow smile, "Zara, Grandma's down there with an oxygen tank, waiting for us to finish the wedding. You wouldn't want to disappoint her, would you?"
I said nothing and quietly swallowed the hurt.
Three years ago, Solomon Sanchez saved my grandmother's life during a business kidnapping, and because of that she chose him herself to be her granddaughter's husband.
But this young man, so well-mannered in front of his elders, the model husband everyone else admired, had a phone full of nothing but intimate photos of his so-called "one of the guys."
He'd rushed out this morning and left his phone charging on the nightstand.
I scrolled through album after album, the same woman's face crowding every frame, and my heart clenched with a sharp ache.
More than two thousand photos, the whole record of a girl named Blanche Pruitt growing from a fresh-faced teenager into a woman about to become a mother.
The newest set had been taken the day before yesterday.
He'd gone with Blanche to a baby store, the two of them sharing one ice cream, their faces bright with happiness.
It was the first time I'd ever seen him smile like that, like he meant it. And it was with another woman.
I hadn't even had time to grieve my own marriage before the hospital sent word: Grandma was critical.
I hurried over, and on the way Solomon called.
"You've got that emerald necklace, right? You never wear it anyway. Just give it to Blanchie."
"We went to the temple today to draw fortunes, and the master said her luck's been bad lately. She needs something valuable to wear to ward off evil."
The words caught in my throat. I paused for a long moment, steadied myself, and told him no.
"That was my grandmother's heirloom. There's no way I'm giving it to Blanche Pruitt!"
The line went dead silent for an instant.
Then a woman's airy voice came through.
"Every man on earth, once he's married, ends up with some petty wife nagging in his ear. It's just a cheap little necklace. Like I'd even want it."
"Sol, you don't have to come out with the group anymore. Francis and the others will look after me. Don't trouble yourself. Just stay home with your precious little wife."
Solomon kept coaxing her, gently, "Don't be upset. I've always said it, my friends are like family, women come and go. In my heart, you all still matter more."
Blanche kept whining like a child throwing a tantrum, repeating over and over.
"Not listening, not listening, blah blah blah."
The noise made my head throb. My voice shook as I asked, "If there's nothing else, I'm going to hang up—"
Before I could finish, Solomon slammed the phone down on his end.
A shrill burst of static drove straight through my eardrum. I pulled the earbud out and found blood inside my ear.
I forced myself through the discomfort and got to the hospital.
The doctor told me, weighing every word, "In the few days she has left, whatever you do, don't upset her again."
I nodded, stayed with Grandma the whole afternoon, then picked up some topical ointment and went home.
It was the middle of the night by the time I got there.
The warm lamp in the living room was still on, which surprised me.
Solomon didn't like waiting on anyone, and he wasn't one to stay up late.
Tonight, for once, he'd made an exception for me.
Seeing how worn out I looked, he frowned and said sourly, "Home this late. Guess you've got quite a temper on you!"
"All I did was take Blanchie some breakfast, and you get so jealous you can't let it go. Won't even part with one necklace. So small-minded."
"She's a young girl, pregnant and not even married, that's pitiable enough. After all these years of friendship, there's no way I'd just leave her to it!"
My eyes burned like fire had scorched them, and the tears I'd held back so long finally fell.
"Grandma's in a very bad way. I don't want to argue with you anymore. If you think we're wrong for each other, that there's no future in this, then fine, I agree to the divorce!"
3: 3
"All you have to do is keep it from the old woman. I'll pay you twenty million in compensation."
At the word "divorce," a flash of panic shot through Solomon's eyes.
Then he slipped on a tender face, stepping close, wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes with the pad of his thumb.
"I'm sorry. This is my fault. I didn't notice you were upset."
"You said it yourself, that you wanted to grow old with me. If you ever bring up divorce again, I really will be angry."
That night, even though Solomon held me close the whole time as I fell asleep,
I still slept badly.
Sure enough, early the next morning, a crowd of uninvited guests barged in.
"Hey, henpecked husband, get over here and kneel to welcome your queen!"
Blanche's voice carried through the whole apartment.
I jolted awake from my dream and found that the man beside me was already gone.
Before she was even through the door, Blanche was complaining about the heat and shrugging off her coat, tossing it carelessly into Solomon's face.
"I'm going to take a shower. You all keep yourselves entertained."
Right in front of me, she hooked her fingers into Solomon's waistband, easy as anything, and dragged him toward the bathroom.
"What are you standing there for? Can't even run the hot water for me. You want a taste of the whip again, is that it?"
Solomon's eyes were full of doting. His hands closed around her slim waist, and he lifted her up as if she weighed nothing, carrying her into the bathroom.
"Look at you showing off, like some little tiger baring its claws. You're about to be somebody's mother. Settle down a little, it's better for the baby."
"Hmph, and you have the nerve to say that. If it weren't for you, I'd have gone to the hospital and gotten rid of it already. It's the whole reason I can't do my belly dancing."
Just before the door shut, Blanche seemed to remember me all at once, twisting free of Solomon's arms and looping her hand through his.
"Oh, you're here too."
"We've all just messed around like this for ages, don't take it personally. Our bathroom's broken, so I came to borrow this one."
She was all smiles on the surface, but her eyes were full of smugness and challenge.
The smile froze on Solomon's face, a trace of irritation showing at the interruption, and he explained to me coldly.
"Today's Blanchie's birthday. A few of us friends made plans to get together. Go to the kitchen and make some nice dishes, and bake a cake too."
With that, he didn't spare me another glance and shut the bathroom door.
The other four men standing in the living room noticed the awkwardness on my face and hurried to smooth things over.
"Sol and Blanche have always horsed around like that. Don't read too much into it."
"Right, and Blanche is tangled up with one of her exes or something. A while back she'd been drinking and started complaining about stomach pain. We took her to the hospital and that's how we found out she was pregnant."
"Sol felt bad for her, pregnant and unmarried, and getting rid of it isn't good for her body, so he offered to take on everything to do with the baby. He even promised to be the child's godfather."
"So really, you should be happy about this. You get to be a mother without any of the pain. What could be better than that?"
