Love Rivals: The Day I Saw Your Tears

89. A Typical Wife?

That was the last straw. My voice rose, laced with sarcasm. "Busy? Is that why you couldn't pick up a single call? I've been waiting here, starving, and you couldn't even check in? Do you even care-"

He interrupted, his tone cool and cutting. "This is your life, not mine. Don't meddle with it," he said, finally turning to face me. "You said that on our honeymoon, remember? So why are you acting like you care where I was or why I didn't answer? Why are you suddenly acting like a typical wife?"

He paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the air before adding, "I even texted you that I was in a meeting and then had surgery. I told you I'd be late."

Before I could muster a response, Ryan cut me off. "I'm exhausted. Please let me sleep."

Frustrated, I stormed to my bed, the anger simmering in my chest. Even though I felt nauseated from hunger, I managed to drift off into a restless sleep.

The next morning, I stubbornly skipped breakfast, determined to make a point. Ryan's mom stayed home from the hospital, looking pale and weak from fasting. Meanwhile, Ryan's dad seized the opportunity to criticize me. With his usual sarcasm, he pointedly suggested that I cook lunch.

I felt utterly drained, both physically and emotionally, but there was no escaping it. I reluctantly engaged in preparing lunch, trying to ignore the biting comments as I went through the motions. Ryan's mom had tried to reason with him, but it was clear I was the one left to deal with the fallout. With no choice but to comply, I forced myself to work in the kitchen, suppressing my frustration and fatigue as best as I could.

Ryan came downstairs, and his mom quickly served him breakfast, a warm smile spreading across her face.

"When did you get home, Ryan?" she asked, her tone full of concern. "Sarah had been waiting for you last night to break her fast."

From the kitchen, I could hear their exchange clearly, my stomach churning with a mix of hunger and irritation. Ryan glanced in my direction before turning back to his mom, confusion etched on his face. "Fasting?" he repeated, clearly taken aback.

His mom's expression shifted to alarm. "Wait a minute. You did break her fast last night, right? Yesterday was Karva Chauth. Please don't tell me you forgot!"

His eyes widened as he processed her words. "You mean... she was fasting for me? She didn't eat anything yesterday?"

His mom gasped, realization dawning on her. "You didn't break her fast last night? That's why she skipped breakfast! Oh my God!"

Ryan stepped closer to me, concern mixed with frustration. "Why haven't you eaten anything? Are you trying to torture me? You know, Sarah, you really know how to hold a grudge. You're succeeding in your mission of making me look like a bad son."

I couldn't hold back any longer; I tossed the spatula aside, my frustration spilling out. "I don't play games like you! Fasting isn't something I enjoy, and I don't care about these rituals. Your mom asked me to do it. Because of you and this relationship, I can't even say no to your parents! She told me I couldn't eat until you fed me."

His voice rose in response. "You should have told me last night instead of arguing!"

I shot back, "You weren't in any state to listen to me!"

"Now you're acting like a typical wife," he retorted, irritation creeping into his tone.

I took a deep breath, the weight of my words heavy on my chest. "I never wanted to be your wife."

With that, I stormed out of the kitchen, the tension thick in the air. His mom reached out, stopping me in the hallway. "Why are you two fighting? Ryan, come here."

She insisted Ryan feed me some sweets, the last thing I wanted. My stomach twisted at the thought, but I forced myself to take a small bite, then retreated to my room.

That evening, Ryan returned from the hospital earlier than usual, before dinner. As soon as he stepped into our room, he asked, "Did you eat lunch?"

I chose to remain silent, hoping he would take the hint. But he repeated his question, his voice more insistent.

"Did you hear me? Did you eat lunch?"

"You better not meddle in my business," I shot back, irritation creeping into my tone.

He sat down on my bed, unbothered. "I'm not meddling in your life; you keep meddling in mine."

I glared at him, unwilling to back down.

"You shouldn't have fasted in the first place," he continued, his expression cool and dismissive. "If you were going to do it, at least you could have eaten something in secret. After all, you don't seem to respect this marriage or our relationship. So why bother with these rituals?"

"I may not respect this relationship, but I respect you," I countered defiantly. "I also respect my parents and their values. Don't expect me to betray them, even if I wanted to."

Without warning, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me downstairs. "Come on. You need to eat something."

He set up dinner in the living room, the television flickering to life in the background, filling the silence with mindless chatter.