POISE//AMBW

15.

"You know I'll do anything to keep my wife, to keep this family growing together. What should I do? I have no one to talk to, no one that understands, no one to listen...except you. I'm trying to keep it all together, trying not to be a bad husband, a bad father, but it's all my fault. Why do I feel so trapped? Why does my throat dry and I choke when I see my wife? My eyes no longer water from the love I feel for her...but for the fear I thought I'd never have towards Nala.

"I can't help but think of the old me. The tormented me. The helpless me. I remember times I would try to say something...but they all laughed at me. They didn't care. I live in a society where the elders are all right even when their actions are wrong. We can't speak up against them. Lord, I just wish things were different. What do I keep doing wrong? Help me see the wrong in what I'm doing, so that I can save this family." A long sigh escapes my lips.

I finish my prayer.

I get up from my knees alongside the bed and dust them off.

My heart grew heavier within the first few weeks of finding out about her affair. With who, I knew not, but I felt destined to find out soon. Too much was going on, so I had to focus on one thing at a time to keep providing for my son. My mind was tangled in thoughts and assumptions, but I tried not to think of the worst.

Days grew slower, her actions got more predictable, Hanuel grew closer to me. Each night that she's gone, I question what I did wrong...what I could have done better. In a dark room with a broken heart, I lay.

Did I not love her the way she wanted me to?

All this time, did she not reciprocate the feelings I had for her?

Did I force her into things she didn't want?

I turned over and felt the cold sheets of where she used to lay. I grabbed her pillow and tucked it under my arm. So cold and soft, it felt on my skin. A shaky sigh left my chapped lips. 

"I just wish you told me, Amara. I just wish you could have told me sooner."

Some nights, she wouldn't even come home. I would stay up for her every night, but eventually it became too much for me. Having to take care of Hanuel, pay for the bills, and go to work was all too much. I just wish she would come home. The nights that she did, it was like death. Her corpse would enter the room and drag about. Sometimes the corpse would be half naked; I could smell the sex.

How can someone so perfect in a world of imperfection deteriorate in this matter? I simply loved her the best way that I could, and now our love is crumbling in my hands. It's all my fault. How could I let something like this happen? I should have seen the signs when it first began, but when, exactly, did it? I saw no discomfort, no hatred, there was no yelling in the past...so what happened? When did it all start falling apart? I laid there on my bed, lightly rubbing the pillow in retrospect. The good memories we had slowly started to replay in my mind. 

Her brown skin glowed in the bright summer sun, her skirt twirling as she spun around. We were in the park taking a nice long walk together. These days it is hard to have genuine conversations and genuinely get to know someone without the distractions of everyday life around us, so I brought her here. One of the many dates we went on. Her bright teeth would show every time I would tell a terrible joke. "Namjoon!" She yelled, running towards the swing set. "Come push me!" 

Or the times when I would gaze at her pretty face as she fed herself, six months pregnant and still growing. She never looked more beautiful. I would talk to Hanuel while rubbing her soft stretched stomach. When she gave birth to our gift from Heaven, I would have to reassure her of her appearance whenever she would look into the mirror. The stretch marks she had before Hanuel got a million times worse, she claimed. But, I thought otherwise. Those marks on her stomach is proof that she gave a safe home for Hanuel to be brought into this world. Of course, I am no woman (for I am sure that it is easier said than done, or felt). I could only imagine the feelings she had. 

I guess that's when everything changed. 

When I first met her, she worried about her appearance. She was lost in her mind and I could see it in her eyes. It would be cliche to say that when I first saw her, I fell in love. That wouldn't be true anyways. It was when she first opened up to me when I knew she was the one. But how could I love someone that did not love their self? I took it upon myself to love her the best way that I could as she tried to find herself; I didn't have to, but I wanted to show her what love was like. Of course, there was no telling if she would actually like me back. I prayed that she did. I prayed that she would be happy one day with whomever that she would end up loving (me or not). I prayed that she would love her skin and have confidence that no one could take away from her. I prayed that she would always remember where she came from and that no matter where she went in this world, if she were to be in any sort of trouble, find herself safe at home. If all failed, I thought to myself, I would at least want to remain friends. 

I had no idea that I would marry the love of my life. 

Nor did I know that everything would come down to a halt.

After she gave birth to my beautiful son, it was like all of those insecurities came back, but in a different form. A new form. One that only if you had a child, you would be able to understand. I, obviously, did not comprehend it, but I tried. I tried to comfort her, to love her the best way that I could like before, but it was not like before. The past can be repeated, but it is not like those same exact things will repeat to get the same outcome. Various mistakes and dissimilar decisions can lead to the same path, however. She grew unhappy after some time, soon being diagnosed with postpartum depression. 

It was hard for the both of us for some while. We talked about getting the therapy that she needed and agreed to saying everything that we felt. It was recommended that we do so by the therapist and the doctor that diagnosed her. In this way, we would be able to help each other and relieve everything that weighed our chests down. We even started working out together to have better life styles. Eventually, things got better; looking back, I did not see any problems that we had after that...

I frowned at the thought. After all that we've been through, what happened to communication? What happened to the freedom of expression, the house being a safe haven to express whatever that crossed your mind? What happened to us? Us. Just the two of us... What happened?

I threw the pillow down on the floor in anger and got up, slinging the bed sheets onto the floor unintentionally. The thought of the old us made my blood flow backwards and I had enough. My wife was going to come home one way or another. And I would have nothing else other than that. I stopped my pacing on the hard wooden floors, warm tears flowing from my eyes. 

"Lord, I just want my wife back!" I screamed into the dark night.

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