It's true what they say about marriage, one partner is always happier than the other.
In my case, l'm the unhappy one with no idea of what's really happening.
I'm the one who can't sleep. I'm the one who watches her husband's sleeping face at night, looking for a sign or anything to prove what I've suspected all along, that he's a cheating liar who wouldn't just grow some balls and admit it. Just say a word.
Goddammit!! a name, something, dear God. That's all I want. Say Chloe, Adrian. Just say Chloe
But he can never do that. He's too superior for that.
I'm the one checking his phone, seeing notifications from the same person with a tiny image but I can't see the name of the sender, can't recognize the face due to the image size-though it looks like Chloe. I can't even read the messages because Adrian has privatized his pop-up notifications.
I'm in the kitchen right now, as early as 6am and I'm already on my sixth cup of coffee, how convenient!
"Morning," Adrian says, walking in, rubbing his temple. "Feels like someone took a chainsaw to my head. Last night was fun."
"I'm glad you had fun," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady, but the bitterness slips through. He notices it, of course. He always does.
"Something wrong?" Adrian asks, eyeing me cautiously.
"Wrong?"
"You seem... I don't know, off."
I'm counting down from ten in my head. Calm down, Naomi. Calm down. But how can I? Adrain disgraced the living daylight out of me last night, and he doesn't even remember?
"I'm fine," I say.
Adrain fetches himself a cup of coffee and joins me at the table.
He's watching me with that innocent look of his.
Sometimes I forget how handsome he is. With his lovely, sharp jawline and his bright green eyes, broad shoulders. The eyes were the first thing I fell in love with. We were freshmen in college, and Adrian mistook me for some girl he brought to the party, a girl he swore was his girlfriend. And well, I played along because he was too handsome to reject. I enjoyed playing the part, letting him call me Ella. And in the morning, when he was sober again and didn't recognize me, I told him Ella said never to contact her again because she never loved him and I told him not to worry his pretty head because I do like him.
Funny how things turn out.
"You say you're fine," Adrain says, breaking the silence, "but you keep looking at me like you want to murder me."
I grip the edge of the table, my nails digging into the wood. "You humiliated me last night, Adrian. How is anyone supposed to respect me when my own husband doesn't?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about your karaoke performance yesterday with that loose hoe, Chloe."
Adrian slaps his forehead dramatically. "Oh, not this again. I've told you a hundred times, Naomi, there's nothing to worry about. You always bring her up, like you're obsessed or something."
"Obsessed?"
I want to throw my coffee cup at something, and it definitely isn't the wall.
"You have a life most women would kill for," he continues. "A great job, a husband who comes home every night. Do you know how many women throw themselves at me? And yet, I come home to you. I pay your family's bills. I've set up trust funds for your nieces and nephews. But it's never enough, is it? The least you can do is to be grateful but you're always whining about the same thing-Chloe this, Chloe that. It's exhausting.
" I'm shaking now, my heart pounding so hard I can barely breathe.
But if I say anything more, he'll call my mother again, and she'll say l'm being ungrateful. "Stop trying to push Adrian into divorcing you, Naomi," she'll say. "No one wants hand-me-downs. Do you want to be alone forever? Go on your knees and tell Adrian you're sorry for being a wretch."
"How would you like me to show my gratitude, my lord?" I say, glaring at Adrian. "Should I commission a carven image of you and worship it?"
"I'm not in the mood for your sarcasm, Naomi. My head is already pounding enough." Then something crosses his eyes, a strange look. "Actually, there's something l've been meaning to discuss with you. I feel like now's the right time."
Oh, God. My stomach rumbles. He's going to ask for a divorce. I can feel it. Mom's going to kill me. She already planned a vacation in Santorini in December.
"What is it?" I ask, bracing myself.
"I want an open marriage."
For a moment, the words don't register. "What?" I say.
"That's when a couple decides to give each other room to see other people, and-"
"I know what an open marriage means, Adrian. Jesus Christ. The answer is no."
He looks at me with disdain. "I wasn't asking. From now on, we're in an open marriage. When you see me with someone else, don't bother asking questions."
My heart slams in my chest. "It's only an open marriage if I agree.
And I don't."
I'm on my feet now, pacing the kitchen, trying to contain the rage and hurt boiling inside me. Seven years of marriage, and I'm already gearing close to a heart attack.
"I want kids, Naomi," Adrian says. "How am I supposed to have any if I don't date someone else?"
I can't help it; I begin to cry. "But it's not my fault."
"It's not my fault either. Maybe it's just us together."
I can't believe he said that. We've tried for seven years, spent a lot of money. And it's always the same reply: you're both healthy. The embryos are just acting weird. Nine IVFs.
I untie my robe and let it fall to the floor, stripping down until I'm standing with nothing to wear in front of him. Adrian's eyes widen in surprise.
I move closer and straddle him. I then grab his hand and place it on my chest. "Does this not move you anymore?"
"Naomi-"
"Am I ugly to you now?" I reach into his pants, but he quickly stands, pushing me away.
"Stop it," he says firmly, putting space between us. "Put your clothes back on."
Trembling, I watch as he walks away, heading for the stairs.
"Wait," I call out, my voice shaky.
Adrian turns, impatient. "What?"
"It's cool," I say, my voice hollow. "Let's have an open marriage." Adrian nods. "Good."
And just like that, he walks away, leaving me in a million pieces.
I like to say l'm a calm person. Sometimes I swear l'm the most level-headed person I know. All my family are maniacs. My sisters, my brothers. My parents. I've always been the one bailing people out of prison. I've been the designated driver during college wild night parties. I've been the cover-up story for my friends in high school. Yeah, everyone claimed they were spending the night at Julie's house. Because their parents knew l'm a decent person.
But for the first time in my life, I think I want to kill someone.
I'm watching our driveway from the window, and Adrian is stepping out of his car with none other than Chloe. That hoe Chloe. And she's carrying suitcases.
"What's going on?" I ask as soon as Adrian and Adrian step into the house.
Adrian smiles. "Naomi, meet Chloe."
"I know who she is, Adrian."
"Good. Then I won't need to explain. Chloe is moving in." I'm honestly too stunned to speak. What does he mean by that?
After what feels like ages, I ask, "Is she homeless?"
"No," Adrian says. "She's my girlfriend now."