Taking A Chance On Love || m.t.

十五 Breaking Point

The day started out like any other, like we were 2 roommates who happened to share a bed. We had finally moved back to the master bedroom after a petty argument about lack of space made me give in, and I was cleaning the closet out when he came home after work one day.

Mark mumbled a weak greeting that I reciprocated in kind, not even lifting my head to acknowledge his presence otherwise. After changing his clothes he tossed them haphazardly into the laundry basket, his shirt just barely missing the edge. I glanced over, sighing audibly in annoyance.

"Do you mind?" I said while gesturing at the shirt on the floor.

He rolled his eyes and picked it up, exaggerating his movements and making a big show of putting the shirt in.

"You don't have to make a big show of it, you know," I said tonelessly.

"Yeah well you don't have to always say something when you can do it yourself," he bit back.

The spark of anger I had buried began to grow.

"Do it myself? I wouldn't have to do or say anything if you'd just put your shirt in properly. How hard is that?" I replied, still refusing to make eye contact.

"I was going to get to it, like I do with a lot of things, but you're always nagging and never giving me a chance, just assuming I won't do it," he said with a frustrated sigh.

The flame grew brighter and hotter, fueled by the oxygen of our argument.

"I'm nagging? Seriously? You make me sound like some old lady, Mark."

"You act like one, so I don't see why you're surprised. You always nag, you never even look at me, and frankly I'm tired having to deal with work and then come home to you and that attitude," Mark said with barely concealed ire.

I laughed sarcastically.

"You're tired? That's rich, coming from you. You're not the one who-" I said, stopping just in time before I could address the elephant in the room.

"You stopped? No, go ahead. I'm not the one who what?" He taunted, refusing to let the matter drop.

"Nothing," I said frustratedly, turning around to leave the room. Mark was quicker and shut the door before I could leave.

"No, let's finish this. It's about time we finally hash this out, I'm sick of pretending. I'm not the one who what?" He said, voice rising higher.

The flame exploded.

"Fine! You're always going around like you're sick of me, acting like I'm supposed to just get over losing my baby! I can't get over it, okay?! Every time I see the old nursery or the bathroom I'm assailed by memories of bleeding out! And yet you keep talking to me like I'm supposed to just move on?! You're not the one who miscarried! There, I said it! You have NO idea what I've been dealing with every single day when you're not here or when you're asleep!" I yelled.

"And there it is," he said with a laugh. "You finally said it. You think you're the only one who has to deal with the loss, huh? Fine, I'm not the one who bled out. But that was my baby too, Essie! You're so selfish that you can't even see that it's not just about you! If you'd taken better care of yourself, you wouldn't have lost the baby! The least you could do was get yourself together, at least for the baby. You're not the only one who deals with hate, sasaengs and mental health decline. So many of us get on with our lives but no, you're so special that apparently nobody has felt the way you did so you closed off, hurt yourself, and killed my child!" Mark shouted.

I staggered back as if shot, reeling from the revelation and intensity of his true thoughts. For a moment, I was completely speechless, watching him as he huffed angrily before seeming to realise what he had said. He took a step toward me, the beginnings of remorse fighting their way through his anger. But it was too late.

"You think I killed her? You think I wanted her to die?" I asked incredulously as I began to tear up, my anger mixing with devastation and grief. "Do you know what hurt me? I could have used my husband's support at that time instead of you throwing yourself into your work and sometimes being so busy you wouldn't even come home at night! I needed you, Mark! I don't need a pat on the shoulder every now and then like a house pet, I need my husband to be the one I can be honest with when I'm struggling to open up! But because you gave me the impression that you had enough to deal with, I closed off! I didn't know how else to deal with things, and I had no one to talk to! Our moms can only do so much in another country, Mark! I came all the way out here FOR YOU!" I cried out.

"You think I don't know that? Do you have any idea how much of a BURDEN that is?!" He shot back.

Silence permeated the room after his outburst. My mind was roiling, chaotic thoughts whizzing by faster than I could catch them as I inhaled sharply, blinking at him in disbelief.

"A...burden?" I whispered in shock. Suddenly, I felt tired of everything. I needed to get out, leave this suffocating house, and get away from the seething eyes of the man in front of me. "Fine! Since you think I'm such a burden, live your life! I'm leaving!" I said angrily, pulling out a suitcase from the closet and throwing things in it as my tears dripped onto the clothes.

Mark looked like he wanted to say something, regret seeping through his eyes, but he held his tongue. My phone pinged with a voice message notification. I opened the message immediately and pressed play, the sender's voice ringing through the silence.

"Hey Essie! Yuji here! I know you're probably celebrating with your husband now and I won't be a third wheel, so just wanted to say happy birthday! I'll talk to you later, so don't answer this yet, bye!"

A shadow of surprise and slight shame crossed over Mark's features after the message played out, and I chuckled bitterly, continuing to pack my clothes and things into multiple suitcases.

The flame that burned brightly just a few moments ago was suddenly snuffed out, the scent of smoky wisps lingering in the strained silence.

"Um...where will you be staying? If you don't have a place, you can stay here, I'll go and give both of us some space," Mark said, awkwardly clearing his throat.

"Thanks but no thanks. I'm going back to America." I said. "You can get rid of anything you want, no need to send them to me. You bought them anyway."

I sat on my suitcases and zipped them all up before leaving the room to take a box of protein bars and a bottle of water. While I did, I quickly booked a ride to the airport, figuring I'd buy my ticket on the way. Some part of me kept hoping Mark would stop me at some point but he simply watched me from the doorway, clearly wanting to say something but not. When I had finally gathered my things and was making my way to the door, he finally spoke.

"I'm sorry your birthday turned out this way," he said quietly.

I gripped the handle of the front door, pausing before swinging it open.

"I'm sorry too. Goodbye, Mark."

With that, I closed the door and left, not knowing I had left one thing behind: my heart.

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A/N: I struggled writing this because it's a bit different from how I handle things, and I was also trying to incorporate the flame metaphor throughout the chapter. I'm not sure if I did it well, but that last flame allusion in my opinion is my favorite. I can't believe my own brain came up with that!