From The Diary Of A Broken Woman (II)

If you missed the first part of these series, you can catch up here to help you appreciate this part better: From The Diary Of A Broken Woman (I).

At the hospital entrance, I saw my hubby standing there. It had only been three days, but he looked haggard. I wanted to turn and leave, but one look at him and my heart softened. I couldn't resist calling out to him. He turned to the sound of my voice but when his eyes found me, he pretended that he didn't know me; There was a look of disgust in his eyes that cut right through my heart. I told myself not to look at him anymore, and I hailed a cab. At that moment, I had such a strong urge to shout to my hubby: "Darling, I am having your baby!" and have him lift me up and spin me around in circles of joy. Instead, I got in the cab and let the tears fall free. Why? Why couldn't our love withstand the test of one fight?

Back home, I lay on the bed thinking about my hubby, and the disgusted look in his eyes. I wondered why he was being so over bearing over what happened. I cried myself to sleep that night. The sound of the drawers opening startled me awake later that night. I switched on the lights and I saw hubby with tears rolling down his face. I stared at him in silence. He ignored me, took the bank deposit book and some money and left the house. I just didn't understand it, I sat up numb and stiff in bed staring at the door long after he had left. The next day, I did not go to work. I just wanted to sort things out with hubby, I couldn't stand the silence anymore.

I went to his office and his secretary gave me a weird look and said: "Mr. Tan's mother had a road accident and is now in the hospital." I stood there in shock. I rushed to the hospital and by the time I found hubby, mother had already passed away. Hubby did not look at me, His face was expressionless. I looked at mother's pale white and thin face and I couldn't control the tears in my eyes. My God, how did this happen?

Throughout the funeral, hubby did not say a single word to me, he didn't even glance in my direction except for the occasional disgusted stare. I only managed to find out brief facts about the accident from other people. That day, after mother had left the house, she had walked in a daze toward the bus stop, apparently intending to go back to her old house back in the countryside. As hubby ran after her, she had tried to walk faster and as she tried to cross the street, a public bus ran her over. I finally understood how much hubby must hate me, if I had not thrown up that morning, if we had not quarreled, if....

In his heart, I had indirectly killed his mother. Hubby moved into mother's room and came home every night with the strong smell of liquor all over him. I was so deeply buried beneath the guilt and self-pity that I could barely breathe. I wanted to explain to him, to tell him that we are going to have our baby soon, but each time I saw the dead look in his eyes, all the words would vanish. I wished he would hit me real hard or give me a big and thorough scolding - anything but the silent treatment. Many days of suffocating silence went by and as the days went by, hubby came home later and later. We were living together like strangers. 

One day, I passed by a western restaurant, looking into the glass window, I saw hubby and a girl sitting facing each other and he very lightly brushed her hair off her face. I understood what it meant. After recovering from that moment of shock, I entered the restaurant, stood in front of my hubby and stared hard at him, not a tear in my eyes. I had nothing to say to him, and there was no need to say anything. The girl looked at me, looked at hubby, stood up and wanted to go, hubby stretched out his hand and stopped her. He stared boldly at me, challenging me. I turned around silently with what was left of my dignity and walked out of the restaurant.

That night, he did not come home. I guess he really meant to tell me that our love died when mother did. He did not come home anymore after that. Sometimes, when I returned home from work, I would know he had been home to take some of his stuff. My initial desire to explain everything to him vanished. I lived alone, I went for my medical checkups alone. My heart broke again and again every time I saw a guy carefully helping his wife through the physical examinations. My office colleagues hinted to me to consider aborting the baby, I told them No. I insisted on having to the baby. 

One day, I came home and I saw hubby sitting in the living room. The whole house was filled with cigarette smoke. On the coffee table, there was a piece of paper. I knew what it is all about without even looking at it. In the two months plus of living alone, I had gradually learned to find peace within myself. I looked at him, took off my hat and said calmly: "You wait a while, I will sign." He looked at me, mixed feelings in his eyes, just like mine. As I hung up my coat, I kept repeating to myself "You cannot cry, you cannot cry...". My eyes hurt terribly, but I refused to let tears come out. After I hung up my coat, hubby's eyes stared fixed at my bulging tummy. I smiled a shaky smile, walked over to the coffee table and pulled the paper towards me. Without even looking at what it said, I signed my name on it and pushed the paper to him.

"LD, are you pregnant?"

To be continued...

Author unknown