I remember that I had written this as a one-shot a long time ago. For those who have followed from before, I'm sure a lot of you are familiar with my previous one-shot, "Blame". After much thought and toying around with different ideas, now six years later, I thought it would be interesting if I had went ahead and turned that previous one-shot into a full length story.
So again, this is sort of like a Spin-Off/Continuation of my one-shot, "Blame". Instead, I've decided to take on a more mature approach. So yes, this story will be rated "M" for Adult reasons.
I hope you guys like this! If you're interested in sticking around, buckle up! It's going to be whirlwind of roller coasters!
Anyways, read on my loves!
It was a quiet ride home.
So quiet that the silence looming over their heads had begun to leave an unsettling feeling down in the depths of her stomach. It had been like that for the past twenty minutes they'd been driving. Not a single sentence or word between them had been exchanged. Nothing. Her head was turned to the side, staring out the glass window with traces of dried droplets sticking to it. Her gaze fixed on the view of the pine trees they were speeding by. While his own gaze was trained on the view of the smoothly paved roads ahead of them. He made sure to remain cautious to abide by the rules and to stay put in his own lane between the white dotted lines. His brows dented, lips pursed and both his hands were gripped tightly on the steering wheel, eager to arrive home and retreat to their respective slumbers.
Thankfully, the roads seemed to be pretty empty and vacant. Which gave them the opportunity to travel home much faster than they had intended. They were desperate to disperse of themselves from the uncomfortable silence that was still hovering over them. But then again, in the Li household, it seemed as if silence was the ultimate key to gaining some stability. It wasn't necessarily a good thing, but it seemed to be the bandage to mend the bonds that had been torn by pride and hostility.
Even Mulan Li (previously known as Mulan Fa) was beginning to find that valid. After all, it seemed to be that the silence between them was the only way she could really get through to him.
She blinks, staring up at the dark sheet of land that mounted in the sky above. Then she hefts a small sigh, casts her eyes downward, fingers fiddling with the gold and diamond encrusted ring clinging around her left finger. The ring she believed signified the ultimate step down the right path in which she always dreamed she would be. Only to find herself stuck behind a wall of bricks. Bricks that just wouldn't seem to budge no matter how hard she would fight to break it down.
After all, it wasn't like this night had been any different.
Many nights, much to her extreme dissatisfaction, would always tend to be quiet for a long time. Because, as much as she absolutely hated to admit it, things between them had changed. And they had changed drastically without as much of a warning. 'For better or worse'. The words spoke for themselves. But in Mulan's situation, it seemed as if things were changing for the worse. Things had changed and had escalated so quickly between her and a certain male companion of hers who had both resided in the walls of their beautiful townhome together. Walls that were once built on love and affection, were now glued with bitterness, resentment and fury. Especially now, up until recently, there didn't seem to be much more than 'love you.' Or at least, that was how it had appeared to a world full of outsiders that the couple would constantly try to convince them that they were living the 'perfect marriage' through fake smiles and over exaggerated public displays of affection. Unwilling to allow the universe to see right through their lies. Secrets and battles hidden and tucked away underneath their need to overdose on lovey dovey words and sentences. Though the emotional scars and choked tears begged to be released.
It was no wonder why Mulan's friends and family members thought she would make a great actress. She played the role very well. Her lines were convincing, well thought out and memorized. She even got the correct emotions down pat. But what her friends and family were not aware of, was the fact that the film she had been starring in was not a place that was deemed enjoyable.
But then again, that was pretty much what her entire life practically consisted of. Her being thrown into some strange film with the responsibility and commitment of providing the lead character with as much depth and knowledge she needed to present. Playing the role of someone whose personality and mannerisms were so foreign to her that she always found herself in situations that would knock her off balance and screw up her lines. But it was something she was good at. Pretending to be something she was not just to please the ones around her. To prove to them that she was worthy and capable of doing anything.
She had done it so much and so often that she even found herself constantly trying to gain that approval from the man behind the wheel sitting beside her.
How Mulan had found herself in this situation? She didn't know. And truth be told, she didn't think that she ever would know.
"There's a meeting at my work tomorrow evening at 5:00." She tells him, though she doesn't look in his direction. "I'll be coming home late."
He huffs. "What time?"
"Between 8:00 and 8:30."
She winces slightly at the heavy sigh that seeps through his teeth. She doesn't have to look at him to know that the same irritated expression had formed on his features. She braced herself for what was to come next.
"Fine."
She breathes in a sharp intake of breath, eyes fixed on the dark roads and colorful traffic lights. "Do you think you'll be able to take care of dinner tomorrow night?"
This time, she did grant herself the courage to look at him. Noting the way his jaw clenched, his brows denting with more annoyance. His eyes narrowed to slits and his grip tightening on the steering wheel. And if Mulan was being completely honest with herself, she had to admit that although she had grown used to seeing this particular expression more consistently, having to see this look on Shang's features had only caused the pain in her heart to ache. She hated having to see him like this. Especially when it was she who was the main target he was aiming at.
"Can't you just put something to cook before you leave in the morning?"
His tone was harsh. Cold. Distant. Bothered. She had to swallow back the painful lump swelling in her throat. And just like always, another line in her script she had messed up.
"I have a busy day at work tomorrow." He quips. "Did you not stop to think that I might be tired when I come home?"
She blinks. "….I'm sorry….." She says, soft, so soft. "I um….I can just pick something up on my way home then."
"If you do that, then that means I'll have to starve." He grinds through his teeth. "You expect me to wait until 8:30 for you to bring home dinner?"
A deep, wavering sigh from her. "…Just forget it, Shang." She turns to look out the window, biting her lip. "I shouldn't have asked that of you. I'm sorry."
Another huff from him. "I'll handle dinner tomorrow. Alright?"
"Okay."
And that was it. The conversation cut to an abrupt ending without another word or syllable to be said. Another bout of silence fills the air for the remainder of the ride home. Shang had eased his foot onto the gas pedal and increased the speed to get home. Desperate to escape the prison of this uncomfortable domestic cell.
And with each passing silence, Shang had failed to notice the tears that had now appeared on his wife's face.
They arrived home.
The silence still lingered. Neither of them having dared to break it. There was no need to have to go through the repetition of the hostile exchange of words that were said in the car. Thankfully the house still remained in the same state that they had left it. Dirty pots and pans piling up in the sink that Mulan had been in too much of a rush to wash and clean before they left for their double dinner date. The scattered array of runners, boots, sandals and wedges were toppled over one another in the messiest state possible. Another chore that Mulan hadn't bothered to worry about. Something that was rather a major pet peeve of Shang's.
Their bills are laying astray in puddles on their glass table in the family room, a coaster loose from its rightful home. An empty carton of Neilson's 2% milk standing on the stove that still needed to be thrown away. Although the sight of the house wasn't exactly the ideal way that they had desired to have left it, the state that it was in told them that everything was still intact.
Shang grunts at the sight. "Why is the house always so messy?"
Mulan shrugs her tired shoulders, and mumbles, "I dunno."
"We have to clean this mess up."
"I know." She stifles a yawn. "I'll do it tomorrow."
"Why not just do it now?"
"Because I'm tired." She sighs, the irritation in her tone evident. "I'll have time in the morning before I leave for work. I'll just do it then."
He grimaces at this. "You always say that, Mulan."
(Typical)
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Throwing her heels into the closet. The dent in Shang's brow creases, his fists clenching at the sight of his wife's careless behavior. His dear wife had managed to tune him out like always.
"You always say you're gonna do things, and then you don't." He shakes his head. "And in the end, nothing gets done."
"I said, I'll do it tomorrow, Shang."
Now it's his turn to roll his eyes. "Fine."
They climb the stairs without another word. It was all crude and absurd, Mulan thought as she was in the bathroom, stripping out of her work clothes and slipping into her pink, silk night gown that reached down to the tips of her knees. She made sure to scrub away any traces of fatigue, oil or exhaustion that may have been left over amongst her face. Right now, all she needed was sleep. She had had a long day at work, sitting on her butt all day until it became numb, staring at the blank screen for nearly eight hours while her fingers tapped aimlessly amongst the keyboard. The muscles in her shoulders ached a lot and truth be told, if she wasn't in such a tight spot right now with Shang, she would gladly have asked him to give her a much needed shoulder rub.
He always did give amazing shoulder rubs. And exceptional back rubs.
She shakes away the thought quickly, dabbing her moistened flesh with a towel before she retreats back to her bedroom, and the shocking scene in front of her causes her to pause in the doorway. Twiddling her fingers and chewing on her lower lip. Shang bent over, nose in the drawers as he's plucking more piles of his clothes into his arms. A sight that she knew all too well. And a sight that would haunt her forever.
She breathes. "W-what are you doing?"
He stands up straight but doesn't look at her. Ignoring her question. He moves past her through the doorway, and Mulan watches as he heads toward the room at the end. The spare room.
"…Shang?"
He pauses in front of the door. Hand grasped on the handle. "What?"
She blinks rapidly. "You're…..you're not sleeping in the bedroom with me?"
He inhales sharply, then says, "No."
The word stung. Chewing on her lower lip. "Can we…." She says softly. "…Can we at least try and talk about this?"
He grimaces at the door. "No." And he clenches his jaw. "I'm going to bed."
He doesn't give her a chance to get another word in. She winces as the door to the bedroom slammed shut. The sharp impact left a rather melancholy sound to her eardrums. And just as always, she's left alone. Standing behind the door where her husband had disappeared. As if he had abandoned her and left her to fend for herself in the depths of the darkness.
Alone.
Unwanted.
She finds it a challenge to tear her gaze away from the door that was closed in front of her. Longing for her husband to just swing open the door, gather her in his arms and smother her with never ending kisses while he whispered words of apology and love in her ears.
Only he didn't.
He wasn't coming out any time soon. Not now. Maybe never. Though there was still a glimmer of hope that remained in Mulan's eyes as she stared helplessly at the closed door, she knew the chances of him coming back out were slim to none. While she's chewing on her lower lip, her breath is hitched in her throat. Swallowing past the painful lump that burns her soft palette.
A single tear slid down from her warm, coffee brown eyes, followed by another one, and another one, until soon, a steady stream of salty tears flowed its way down her pale cheeks, releasing the sadness and sorrow that has been held inside of her for all this time but she still did not make a sound. Because at this point, right now, crying seemed to be how she could understand herself best. And crying seemed to be the only thing would comfort her at nights when she was neglected by her husband.
Besides, this wouldn't be the first time she would find herself in bed alone, crying herself to sleep until her body could no longer produce any more tears.
And then again, it wasn't like her husband was unaware of the tears she would produce. He's seen her cry. She's cried in front of him on numerous occasions. Almost every day, there didn't seem to be a day that passed where she wouldn't not cry in front of him. Her crying, and him seeing her tears had become a pretty consistent routine in their marriage.
Lately, it's been that way a lot.
It seemed as if the tears and the numerous screaming matches were exchanged more frequently than the usual kisses and passionate love making.
But unfortunately, there was a reason for that.
She buries herself into the mattress, hugging her arms around herself so that she's laying on her side in a fetal position. Stashing herself in the cocoon of the sheets and blankets. Her pillow soaked with the flow of never ending tears, drenching her cheeks with wet tracks. Sniffling, her blurry gaze fixed on the view of moonlit night spilling through the curtains from her window. Unable to find rest. Her mind immediately repeating the unpleasant events that had occurred prior to their dinner date.
They had fought that evening when Shang had arrived home from work. Mulan wasn't exactly sure how, or why it had happened in the first place. All she knew was that the argument they had earlier had escalated into something much bigger than necessary. It was something that shouldn't have happened in the first place. It was all foolish and completely unnecessary for a fight like that to have erupted so quickly, Mulan had thought.
But lately, that seemed to be how all of their fights would end up.
What would start off as a small request would eventually transition into something that was completely uncalled for. Then it had turned into an argument. A stupid and pointless argument. Over what? Something completely stupid and pointless. It had begun with words of annoyance; some were thrown here, some thrown there. Then it transitioned to words of disagreement. Multiple phrases being thrown to one person, while the other spat back just as bitter.
Then in the speed of lightening, they had been locked in the ultimate battle. A huge and nasty fight had started and it seemed as if neither one wanted to stop it. Resolve was more like it. As much as she had wanted to forget it, Mulan couldn't. After all, the event had just occurred only a few hours prior. It wasn't like something as serious as this could easily just be forgotten with the snap of a finger.
As painful as the memory littered amongst her skull, Mulan couldn't seem to silence her thoughts of the previous events that had occurred.
-A few hours earlier-
"Shang!"
"What now, Mulan?" He calls as he enters through the front door.
"Ugh! For the love of God! You did it again!"
A grunt from him. "I did what?" He barely had time to disperse of his outdoor wear as he rounds the corner and is standing in the entrance of their kitchen. A tight glare on his features. "What did I do now?!"
"This!"
His gaze follows the trail of her outstretched finger. A dirty plate in the sink. Its beautiful geometric patterns covered in slithers of what looked like scrambled eggs with leftover bacon grease and tiny pieces of bits. A glass with a tiny drop of orange juice, a dirty fork and knife to add to the mix. Shang couldn't help but roll his eyes at the scene playing out in front of him.
"What about it?"
Mulan places a hand on her hip. "You left your dirty dishes in the sink! Again!"
If she meant to make it sound like she was scolding her fifteen year old son, she seemed to be doing a great job at it. But unfortunately for her, her husband didn't seem to be taking it so lightly. He had made sure to count down from ten. Then to five.
"And…..?"
"For God's Sakes, Shang!" She throws her hands up. "Can't you do anything around this damn house?!"
His glare hardens. "Excuse me?!"
"You heard me!"
"What the hell is your problem?!" He spits back. "If it was bothering you so much, then why didn't you just wash them?!"
"Because I am sick of having to pick up after your mess!"
"HEY!" The bark was out before he could catch it, and she flinched at his tone. "Don't you ever talk to me like that!"
"Don't tell me what to do!"
"Well don't you stand there and talk to me like I'm a damn child!"
"You're behaving like one!" She could hardly believe that she had enough power in her lungs to project much louder than he had done. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't have left your fricken dishes in the sink!"
"Oh yea?! Then what about that pile of clean clothes in the laundry room?!"
The glare on her features harden. "That!..." She stutters, her bottom lip quivering. "That has nothing to do with this!"
"It is relevant, Mulan!" He marches up to her so that he's right in her face. "You think I'm a mess?! You haven't even started folding those clothes yet!"
She takes a step back. Suddenly beginning to feel the intimidation that her husband displayed.
"Those clothes have been sitting in the laundry basket for four days! Four days, Mulan!"
And she suddenly feels small. So very small.
"So don't stand here and scold me for not picking up after my shit!"
Her eyes flash heat waves at him. "Excuse me?!"
"You heard me!"
"Well don't you stand here and yell in my face!"
"You're the one who started this in the first place!"
"I wouldn't have had to start this if you'd just put your damn dishes away!"
"You don't even do half the shit that you're supposed to do around the house!" He gets in her face. "So don't stand here and nag me about picking up after myself!"
In that moment, Mulan wanted nothing more than to cry as rage filled her belly. She felt her ears getting hot. She glares at him, then spits out, "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!"
All hell breaks loose.
Their voices rose above sacred silence. A glance, touch, and one small comment stirred a hurricane of harsh and horsed insults mixed with accusations. Their own Pandora boxes opened, sending each word full speed ahead to shatter their souls into a million pieces. His face brightened, just one tone lighter than even her own crimson. It was clear that this was far from a "He said, She said". Feelings were bound to get hurt, words firecrackers of resentment were soon to spiral out of control. And it was in that moment through burning tears prickling down her cheeks, that Mulan began to believe that they were never going to be as strong as they had been when they had first started out as a couple.
"HEY! DON'T WALK AWAY WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!"
"GET OUT OF MY WAY, SHANG!"
She manages to push past him and marches her way up the stairs, despite the fact that her husband's shouting was trailing her every move.
"COME HERE! WE'RE NOT FINISHED!"
"LEAVE ME ALONE!"
-End of Flashback-
She shifts under the sheets so that she's now sitting upright. She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around her shins; wondering if she could just curl up into a ball and stay like that forever, then that way she wouldn't have to face real life and she would be protected from everything around her. But the only problem is that she would still have to live with herself, with the wretched memories and unpleasant encounters swirling around in her head.
Her eyes, still red and puffy from crying, squeezed shut to push more tears out. She lets her head fall to her knees, and she pulls her legs closer to her. No matter how much she wanted to forget, or how much she desperately wanted to just start things over from scratch, there was no where she could hide from the thoughts and memories inside her head. As much as she wanted to turn them off, she couldn't. They were like an endless black and white film that failed to reach its end any time soon.
Deep down, as much as Mulan knew that she no longer wanted to be trapped in this cycle, she knew that one thing was for sure.
They fought constantly.
Every second of the day, there was never a day where they wouldn't not fight.
During the two years of their marriage, it seemed as if spitting harsh words back and forth was their only way of communication. And she hated it. Many times, their fights were only ever verbal. But sometimes, Mulan would wish that their fights were physical. Having a black eye or a few cracked ribs didn't sound as bad as having to hear some of the words that flew out of Shang's mouth. But then again, it wasn't like she was the 'angel' in this mess. Her words were just as bad as his. Sometimes even worse. But that was only because her words came more from a place of hurt and inner pain. Whereas his words (or so she believed) were just cruel and unnecessary.
Most of the times, their arguments never really made any sense. Nor did they seem to have a solid topic on what exactly their arguments were about. It was never over the same thing. It was over everything. Big. Small. Necessary. Unnecessary. Relevant. Irrelevant. Something that was serious. Or something that was stupid. There never really seemed to be a logical explanation for their sudden outbursts and verbal attacks against one another.
None of it seemed to make sense.
Thunder eventually cried out from the blackened sky, the clouds invisible above. It came like a prelude to a sad song, impetuous rumbling permeating the air every bit as much as the sudden rain. Mulan sniffs wetly, balling her hands into fists as she lifts them to rub the tears from her eyes. Though her face is still stained with glossy tracks. One of the things she hated about sleeping alone, was having to endure listening to booming thunder storms whenever they would roll in. She wasn't usually afraid of thunder and rain. Nor was she that afraid of lightning. But on nights like this, she had to admit that she desired to have Shang buried under the blankets with her right now.
She longed to have his arms wrapped protectively around her waist whilst placing tender kisses to her forehead and lips. She longed to hear his voice whispering in her ear that he would protect her from the storm, even though she would often roll her eyes and laugh alongside with him and tell him that she wasn't a baby. She longed to have that innocence and laughter they once had in their relationship. She longed for his warm body to be mounted on top of hers, dominating her in the most tender and passionate way possible. Just like how he would always do.
With a heavy sigh, she turns to swing her legs over so that they were hanging off the edge of the bed. More tears spilled down her face, a throbbing pain beginning to ebb against her skull. Her feet manage to touch the carpeted ground beneath, and she forces herself to stand. She makes her way to the door, grabs her silky robe from the hook, wraps it snugly around her body and she gently pulls the door open. With one last glance at the closed door to the spare room staring back at her, she holds back a choked sob and solemnly makes her way down the stairs. The creak creak of the failed to faze her.
She was too tired and too miserable to notice the piles of shoes and sneakers that were tumbled over in their shoe closet. Nor did she seem to care about their bills that lay astray on their table. She drags her feet towards the kitchen, and she tosses the empty carton milk into the trash can. The rain outside was now pouring and chipping at the shingles of their rooftop. The thunder outside was still roaring and booming. She grabs the kettle from the cabinet and searches through the others to find the spare teabags they have left.
They were out of green tea. They'll have to do without it until she remembers to make up their next grocery list. She settles on Chai tea instead. She fills the kettle with water. Turns on the gas stove. She takes a spoon from their drawer. Her eyelids are heavy with fatigue. Eyes red around the rims with purple bags coated around them. Her head is pounding from all the crying and stress. Her heart is aching with neglect and inner pain. The knots in her back and neck are part-taking in their own version of the tango.
The kettle begins to sing happily. Then it transitions to a scream. She turns off the heat, then reaches for a mug. She finds the cup of sugar in one of the cabinets, then fills her mug two teaspoons of it. She pours the steaming hot water into the mug and stirs numbly. She tosses the spoon into the sink, not the least bit fazed of the loud clanking it makes at hits the surface of the stainless steel. She chances a solemn look up the stairs, not in the mood to want to have to climb those steps and retreat back to her room alone. Nor could she bare the pain of having to see the door to her husband's temporary closed shut. He was sleeping peacefully, no doubt.
How dare he?!
How dare he be able to fall asleep so peacefully without a single care in the world! How dare he be able to fall asleep not giving a flying damn that his wife was crying and hurt! How dare he be able to fall asleep while it was she was suffering and trying to find ways to make their marriage work!
How dare he not care?!
Maybe that was the problem.
As painful as it was to admit, maybe that was the truth.
Maybe he just didn't care.
She finds herself easing onto the cushion of the couch. Legs tucked to her chest, resting her mug on the tops of her kneecaps. She winces with each thunderous boom. It sounded like a mountainous rock was about to crash through their glass windows any second. It wouldn't be a bad thing if it did so, rolling her flat wouldn't be the worst case scenario. It would definitely rid her of the misery and neglect she often finds herself surrounded with.
To think that once, she and Shang had a much happier relationship. They were happy together when they first had started dating. They were very much in love with each other the minute Shang was the first one to say 'I love you'. They were stronger. More solid. Grounded. Sure, they had their arguments and disagreements. But in a heat beat, their issues were resolved. Apologies were exchanged. Words of love and appreciation followed. There was never any pain. There weren't that many tears. There was never really any heartache
And now…..
Mulan would describe her heartache as a red hot coal placed in her chest, glowing and burning her at the same time. But it made no effort to cool itself quickly like a coal in winter. Instead, it throbbed and tortured her in all her waking hours and unfortunately, there seemed to be no relief to be found to cure it. Not a single thing. Nothing. And frankly, Mulan herself felt it to be a cruelty of life that a heart can keep beating even after it has been broken in two. For Mulan, it felt more like four. It can feel as though it was being ripped in an ice-cold vice and ache as if it will implode in one's chest, but still, the thump-thump-thump continues.
Their argument earlier wasn't the only time she's ever had to question whether or not if Shang's love for her was still in existence. There was many more that had occurred from before. But this was particular argument was something that would haunt her forever. No matter how much she tried to forget it, she couldn't it. It was a memory that would forever be etched into her skull for the rest of eternity.
Flashback: Three Weeks Ago
"Where have you been?"
A frustrated Mulan rolls her eyes and grumbles under her breath as she marches past him and heads into the kitchen. Her stomach growled in protest, and she was nothing but relieved to find that there was enough leftover chicken fried rice in the pot with some General Tao chicken to add to the mix for dinner.
"Mulan!"
She tosses her bag onto the counter and whirls around to glare at him.
"What?!"
"I asked you a question!" He marches into the kitchen and stands in front of her. Glaring heat waves down at her. "Where have you been?!"
"I had to stay late for work!"
"And you couldn't call to tell me that you were going to home late?!"
"Oh for Christ's Sakes, Shang!" She throws up her hands. "So I didn't call and tell you that I was going to be late! What the hell is the big deal?!"
"The 'big deal' is that you need to be more courteous, Mulan!" He yells. "You had me sitting here, worried about you!"
"Well I'm home now!" She shouts, a scowl denting her brows. "Alright?! Happy now?!"
"No, I'm not happy!"
A guffaw from her. "Of course! Because nothing I ever do is good enough for you!" She shakes her head and grunts. "So typical!"
"Because you're too damn selfish, Mulan!" He shouts and points a finger at her, and she whirls around on him. "That's your problem right there!"
"Selfish?!"
"You heard me!"
"Oh! So me coming home late is because I'm selfish?!"
"Yea! It is!"
Her temper was now a simmering pot. Slow burning. Ready to bubble up at any moment. A wild storm to be endured. If her darling husband was smart enough, then he would run for cover. But that was never the case with Shang. He was never one to back down. Even Mulan was no fool to recognize that side of him.
"I'm a grown woman, Shang!" Her yell was like a booming bark. Loud enough to cause even the neighbors to jump like scared rabbits. But Shang did not look the slightest bit fazed one bit. "I don't have to tell you my whereabouts!"
"I DON'T CARE!"
His holler reverberated in her ears like a clap of thunder, such was his rage. A roar of pure anger.
"I AM YOUR HUSBAND!" The shouting was a violence in the air, a way to take the anger from Shang and transfer the tension into Mulan. He didn't just raise his voice, his muscles tensed and he got right close for maximum impact. "IT'S MY JOB TO PROTECT YOU! SO DON'T YOU EVER TALK TO ME LIKE THAT AGAIN!"
"I WOULDN'T HAVE TO IF YOU'D STOP TREATING ME LIKE A DAMN CHILD!"
"WELL YOU'RE ACTING LIKE ONE!"
If the shouts were visible they'd be reaching over the air, strangling the life from Mulan. As the words got bitterer, it would be possible to see why in that moment, she was struggling for a breath.
"YOU DON'T RESPECT ME, MULAN! YOU DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT ANYONE ELSE BUT YOURSELF!"
Every word stung only fueling the fire that burned inside of her. Every violated phrase was like gasoline to it, her fists began to clench and her jaw rooted. Her eyes suddenly burning with angry tears. Teeth gritted.
"WELL YOU DON'T RESPECT ME EITHER, SHANG!"
Their heated quarrels continue for the remainder of the evening. It was definitely a war of words and who can hurt the other one worse. Both of them at each other's throats like savage hungry dogs fighting over dominance. Their voices becoming raw and horse, and soon, tears from the other opponent followed.
"I'M DONE WITH YOU!"
There was pain behind her shout as she shoves past him. The tears that raced down her cheeks were hot and wet. The anger was nothing but a shied to conceal the pain. But it was too bad that her husband couldn't seem to see that.
"HEY! DON'T YOU DARE WALK AWAY FROM ME! WE'RE NOT FINISHED!" He shouts after her.
"I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU ANYMORE!" She whirls around and spits back at him. "JUST LEAVE ME BE!"
"WELL I'M TRYING TO TALK TO YOU!"
"I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!"
She marches up the stairs. And he shouts after her once again.
"YOU ARE SUCH A LOUSY WIFE!"
Her face was red with suppressed rage and she glares down at him with tears racing down her cheeks. Then she leans over the railing and hollers,
"GO TO HELL!"
And that was the end of it.
They had slept in separate bedrooms that night. And the night after. And the night after that. Pretty soon, one night of sleeping separately had quickly escalated to sleeping separately for almost two weeks. And during those two weeks, no words were exchanged between the two of them. Not a phrase. Not a single syllable. Not even the slightest bit of eye contact was visible either.
Their mornings had consisted of movement in the house, but lacked any type of sound. Usually during the afternoons where Mulan would get a break, she would often use that as an opportunity to call Shang and to see how he was doing. In return, Shang would do the same, calling in and checking in to see how her day was going. But their phone calls during lunch hours had gradually began to diminish. Upon their arrival home, dinner was spent sitting in silence, with the exception of forks and knifes clinking against their plates. They even went as far as washing their dishes in silence.
And once it was time for bed, it was the usual. Disperse from one another and shut the door without a 'goodnight', and then repeat the next day. And the next day after that.
Instantly, regret washed over her like the long slow waves on a shallow beach. Each wave was icy cold and sent shivers down her spine. How Mulan longed to go back, rewind that night once more and do things over, but now that was impossible. There was no way back. What's done was done. Even if she wished desperately to be able to take back those words that she had said, she knew that she couldn't. There was no way to make it right. The remorse over that night would eat at her every day for the past two weeks. And frankly, she envied the pebbles laying on the beach near the waves, hard and lifeless, unable to feel the torments of life.
She loved Shang. She really loved him.
He was the love of her life.
And she didn't want to lose him.
She remembered those times when she had tried to make an effort to make amends. For the sake of their marriage, it was a sacrifice she knew she needed to make. She had been the first to come downstairs one morning to prepare breakfast. He had come down shortly after. Usually, she would've just ignored him and continued on with making her own meal. But that morning, even Mulan knew that the longer they both stayed in silence, the more difficult the situation would escalate into something worse than it already was.
But it was in that morning where Mulan discovered just how much turmoil she would be facing that morning.
Flashback: A few days ago
"Shang, can we-"
"No."
She sinks her teeth into her lower lip. He moves around her without looking at her, claiming his seat at the head of the table. His favorite seat. He sips his Matcha Tea, eats his Whole Wheat toast with exactly 1 ½ tablespoons of strawberry jam and stabs a forkful of exactly three scrambled eggs with ½ of teaspoon of salt and ¼ teaspoon black pepper. He says nothing, and eats his breakfast as though he was the only one present in the household.
The sounds of birds chiming, the muffled engines roaring to life and tires scratching against gravel paved roads was the only sound that was kind enough to greet her in the early morning as modern symphony of normalcy. Their air conditioning was still broken, and so she had to settle with opening some of the windows to allow some fresh air to come in.
Her eyes rest intricately upon the bulky figure of husband. She nibbles at her cheek as she stands behind the counter and stares at him over from it. She's holding her own cup of Matcha Tea in her hands, her thumb tracing up and down the handle, waiting for it to cool down, as she was also expecting the same outcome with the tight tension. She slowly moves from behind the counter, not once taking her eyes off him and she manages to take a tentative step forward towards him, none easier than the last, but each one necessary. And in that moment, she feels the need to touch him.
"Shang," She says softly. So soft. She's standing above him now. Her hand reaches out towards him; closer, closer, the distance between fingers and dress shirt fabric diminishes, until she finally makes contact – and she pulls it back suddenly as he pulls his shoulder from her grasp. "About that night, I-"
"I don't wanna hear it."
He mutters harshly in between chews. She swallows.
"Baby, can we just talk about-"
"I already told you no."
Mulan flinches at his tone. Harsh. Cold. Distant. Abrupt. Lacking any sort of remorse or sympathy of some sort.
"Shang, please…I just want to-"
"Mulan what part of 'no' and 'I don't wanna hear it' did you not understand?"
He abruptly drops his fork onto his place and turns to glare up at her. Mulan forces herself to take a tiny step backwards, nibbling on her lower lip to bite back the tears burning in her eyes. But she doesn't let them escape.
"You said what you needed to say that night." He turns back to his meal and bites into his toast. "What's said is done. So get over it."
"Shang, you know I didn't mean any of those words I said…."
He lets out a dry chuckle, though it lacked humor. She nibbles on her cheek and places her cup on the counter beside her.
"…That night…." She begins and crosses her arms over her chest. "…I-I don't know what I was thinking." Then she looks down at the floor. "…I-I was tired, I was cranky and I….I just wasn't-"
"Enough, Mulan."
"Shang if you would just listen to what I'm trying to-"
"I said enough!" She flinches as he slams his fist against the hardwood table. "I don't want to hear what you have to say! I told you that already!"
Mulan closes her eyes, and heart clenches painfully. She glares at him through her lashes, her chin trembling. She inhales a deep breath, trying to maintain her 'cool' and to not let her emotions get the best of her. So she says,
"…If you would just…listen-"
"Mulan!" He turns to glare at her again. She swallows. "Look, do not talk to me right now, alright?"
"Shang-"
"Don't talk to me. Don't even look at me." He grimaces. "This conversation is over."
Her eyes shifted to the side, and they became a glazed with a glassy layer of tears. As she blinked, they dripped from her eyelids and slid down her cheeks. She bit her lip tightly in attempt to hide any sound that wanted to escape from her mouth; her heart sinking. It was a shame that her own husband failed to recognize just how badly she was hurting.
Her lower lip quivered as the words she desperately wanted to say slowly made their way out of her mouth.
"…I'm sorry, Shang…."
She doesn't bother to throw her tea down the drain. Instead, she grabs her bag and turns on her heel. She steps into her heels, grabs her keys and jacket and disappears behind the door with a slam behind her. And when she steps into her car, her hands grip the steering wheel tightly and allows the tears to flow fully down her cheeks.
And it was yet another morning, where Mulan had cried on the whole drive down to her work.
A pair of tears raced down her cheeks. She sniffles into the sleeves of her robe. Her tea had now gone cold, sitting on the end table next to the couch. She remembered how much of a wreck she had been that morning. She arrived to work later than she had anticipated. Her boss had yelled at her for coming into work late. Again. She had fallen behind on urgent phone calls, and she made the mistake of scheduling in appointments and meetings that conflicted with one another. Because of her tardiness and in her inability to meet 'high demands', she was ordered to stay back two hours behind. So as a result, she had come home late that same evening.
She had forgotten to prepare dinner that evening, and Shang had gotten upset with her for how irresponsible she was being. And in turn, Mulan found herself in yet another screaming match with her husband. And in that moment, all feelings of regret and guilt she once had for her unnecessary behavior before had diminished.
It was no surprise that she had ended up crying herself to sleep that night. Something that was becoming a ritual of theirs.
Her brown eyes well up and tears streak down her face, her lips trembling until she bites them. Breathy gasps reverberated through the through, competing with the rumbling thunder and the pitter-patter of raindrops. Salty tears mingled with the rain outside. It was strange to think that throughout the two years of marriage, that Mulan never felt more alone, scared and devastated. Her heart felt butchered, her love slowly being taken away bit by bit. To think that the tradition marriage vows "for better or for worse, to love and to cherish, til death do us part" seemed more so like "for the better or for nothing, to love until the love was dwindling, til feeling unsatisfied do us part".
Empty and loveless.
The sadness flowed through her veins and deadened her mind. It was poison to her spirit, dulling or killing off her other emotions until it was the only one that remained. It was if a black mist had somehow managed to find her and was now settling upon her and refusing to shift, and no matter how bright each day was, she would feel no sun and hear no bird sing. For the world was lost to her and she knew of nothing that would bring it back into focus.
But then again, nothing she did was ever good enough.
Even if she would try her hardest, her best was simply never enough. And unfortunately, she was beginning to realize that now. And sadly, she was starting to see more of that in Shang's eyes.
Often times, Mulan always found herself questioning whether or not that her marriage to Shang would work out. If they were destined to be together forever until the day they die. She wondered if she was even properly equipped to be a 'wife'. His wife. And she wondered that the more and more they fought, if Shang was slowly beginning to regret his decision on bending down on one knee and putting a ring on her finger.
…Did he regret it?
Was the reason why he was avoiding her was because maybe, just maybe….he was beginning to regret taking this step in his life?
She shakes her head violently. She digs her nails through her hair and into her scalp. Clawing at it, her head buried in her knees as she attempted to take steady breaths to calm her rapid breathing. But her thoughts will not dislodge themselves. They will drive her insane. And they will keep driving her insane and causing more heartache than she could already handle. But yet deep down inside, close to her heart, they abide. Part of her wants to get rid of these terrible thoughts, but she part of her also wants to keep them tucked deep inside. They confused her, scared her, and pained her severely. But yet they were her abditory. They are her worst enemies, yet her closest friends.
But it in that moment where she had failed to discover that right now, she was no longer alone downstairs.
"You're still awake?"
She flinches with a tiny gasp as she looks up and turns her head towards the kitchen. She quickly wipes her tears, sniffling while doing so. His tall bulky silhouette standing behind the counter in the kitchen. The thin white columns of the moonlight splashes over him. A frown dented in his brow.
"I….." She stammers. "I couldn't sleep." She murmurs. "….So I…came down for some tea."
He stares at her. As she does with him, silently hoping that he didn't her hear crying. He blinks once, and then use his palms to rub his eyes and he stifles a yawn. He says nothing as he moves towards the cabinet and fetches himself a glass. His back is turned towards her, and Mulan watches him. He goes to the refrigerator and fills up his glass with water. He takes a sip. She nibbles the inside of her lip so hard that she's in danger of drawing blood.
"Shang," She swallows, her chin trembling. "…C-can we talk?"
His body stiffens. He takes another sip of his water. Without looking at her, he begins to make his way towards the staircase.
"Shang, wait…."
She jumps from the couch and speeds up to him. His back is still turned towards her. She goes to grab his arm, but he pulls his arm out of her reach. A swallow grates her chest, her bottom lip quivering. More tears race down her cheeks.
"…Please…."
"I have work in the morning." He grunts. "I'm going back to bed."
"Shang…."
He moves towards the stairs.
"S-Shang please wait…"
He climbs the first step.
"Shang, if you…." She bites her lip. "….If you won't talk to me, then…" A breathy pause. "….can you at least come back to sleep in the room with me?"
He's halfway up the stairs. "No."
"Shang."
He's made it up the stairs.
"Shang!"
And just like, the slam of the door was the answer she needed.
She felt emotionally bankrupt. Nothing left to feel, nothing left to say, nothing left but the void that enveloped her mind swirling blackness. The darkness swirled around her form down at the end of the stairs, tendrils of inkling bleak reminders of her solitude. Her head swam in the fire and aching burning inside, the only smouldering embers of a time where her husband was always present by her side, with her, surrounding her, and even in her. But now, the void had slowly been filled with a coldness to the emptiness she felt inside, howling a storm of fear and pain that refused to ever let up. She was completely and utterly alone in her mind, body, soul and most of all, entirely alone in the world.
Alone with no one to pull her out of the depths of darkness.
She's too numb to bring herself to go back upstairs. Too numb to force herself to retreat back to her room where she would feel alone once again.
By the time she numbly drags her feet back towards the family room, full of heartache, betray and despair, Shang had probably fallen asleep. She sinks into the cushions on her couch, allowing the tears to flow steadily down her cheeks. She brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. Though there was still a shred of hope (what little hope her body could muster up to find), she knew he wouldn't come back down. She knew that he wasn't going to come back for her any time soon. To try and work things out. To hold her, kiss her and whisper words of reassurance and love into her ears. He wouldn't. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Things were never this bad before when they were dating. None of it had gotten to the point where they would go almost two weeks without speaking with or seeing one another. Even during the first few months of their marriage, everything was blissful. Fun. Exciting. Adventurous. Loving. Kind. Patient. Gentle.
It was a bit naïve of her to feel as though things were much easier for them back then. No relationship was ever easy. No marriage was easy. Relationships were all about love. Commitment. Compromise. Respect. And most importantly, relationships were all about sacrifice. Something she wished she had been prepared for the moment when she had allowed Shang the opportunity to place that ring on her finger. Something that she wished that she was better at.
Her eyes were glossy with pools of tears. Her face still wet and stained. Her left hand languidly moves up to wipe the tears from her eyes, before more spilled out. She holds her hand to her cheek, noting the tarnished piece of medal that pressed against her cheek. Then she slowly drops her hand from her face, her gaze staring at the pieces of jewelry shimmering in the darkness around her.
Her wedding ring.
Instantly, her mind decides to choose the most perfect memory of her and Shang, and she clings onto it tightly. Her thoughts travelling back to the good times they had spent together, like it was almost yesterday.
Memories that she only wished she could relive over, and over once again.
Flashback: Two years ago
"I can't wait to marry you." She murmurs sweetly to him when they're bed at the La Concha Renaissance San, stripped down and catching their breaths from their nightly activity. His fingers play notes up and down her bare spine. He holds her close to his chest, naked bodies pressed against one another. "I love you so much."
"Mm…I love you more." He tells her as he places a tender kiss to her dampened forehead. "I can't believe you're going to be wife in a few days." He sighs, then smiles. "Now that is something I'm gonna enjoy."
She cranes her neck to look at him. "Oh?"
"Of course."
Then his lips capture her own. It was soft and sweet at first, then it turned hungry and eager. He pulls her closer, his other hand grasping onto her thigh, trailing his fingers up and down the flesh of her hip and curve. Then they find her thigh once again, gripping onto the handful of skin he could grab and then he smacks the meat of his palm against her buttock. A muffled gasp and a moan slip through her lips.
"Waking up to-" He begins in between kisses. "-mm…this beautiful face-" Another hungry kiss, "- and body every morning-" A moan from her, "-and the day where I get to call you my wife-" A passionate kiss, "-I couldn't be happier." A kiss to her nose.
Her eyes well up. His thumb goes to caress it away. "You….you really mean that?"
A soft chuckle from him. "Of course I do, my love." Then he takes her hand and brings her fingers to his mouth where presses soft kisses amongst them. "You're the woman I want to marry." A kiss to her palm. "And you're the woman whom I want to spend the rest of my life with."
In that moment, when he looked into her eyes, it was if every ounce of breath was taken from her lungs and floating into the air like midnight smoke. Every time he kissed her, it felt like the world stopped, leaving just the two of them to wander the earth together. Every time he held her face between his hands, it felt like he was untying all of her knots. Holding her for eternity in the arms she's grown so accustomed to. And it was in that moment that Mulan recognized what falling in love was like, a story she never wanted to end. For so long she had found herself longing for a love like this, and now she couldn't bare to lose it.
To lose this thing that made her feel so complete.
He was everything that she longed to find in husband. And he was everything she needed that would keep her full.
She uses her finger to trace the seam of his lip. Then she leans up to capture his lips in hers once again. A long, fiery, passionate kiss that was laced with urgent moans and mewls. And a passionate kiss that reassured the both of them that everything was going to be okay.
"I love you," She kisses him again. "I love you so much."
"I love you more."
"…Our love is forever…" She whispers.
He links their hands together, entwining their fingers. "Forever and Always…"
'Forever and Always…'
Sniffling wetly, Mulan fingers the golden encrusted Chow Tai around her ring finger. Mulan had always been so self-conscious when she cried out. But now, sitting here alone, unwanted and neglected, just gave way to the enormity of her grief. She buries her face in her hands and sobs into them, the tears dripping between her fingers, raining down on the silky fabric of her robe. Her breathing was ragged, gasping. Her skin was blotched, but there was no one to witness it. Let alone, her own husband was too hostile with her to even consider coming down to comfort her. She cried until no more tears came, but still emptiness and sorrow remained.
She wishes she could go back to the way things were.
She wishes that she and Shang could go back to those times where they were happy. Genuinely happy with one another. She missed him. She missed how he would hold her at night and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. She missed the way how he would kiss her. How happy he was to her walk through the door to their own home. The fond memories that they once shared together. How care-free and innocent everything was.
Because in those moments, Mulan knew that those moments reflected the couple that they were supposed to be. What she wished for and hoped for daily.
But instead, she was stuck.
They were both stuck.
And frankly, she didn't know how much longer they would be stuck.
What was once whole is now shattered; where once was peace is emptiness, echoes of a love that seemed to be lost. And no matter how hard she would try to mask the pain during everyday life, it was nearly impossible to do so. It seemed as if with each passing day, they seemed to take another step away from one another, though there were times when she would ask for something so small such as a sign of caring, affection, or of love. Before, he would give that to her. And she would give back to him.
But now, all he brought was anger, suspicion and an averted gazed. And in return, she did the same. Though she would find ways to rebuild what they once had, she was always met with rejection. And like always, she always left feeling inadequate.
Obsolete.
And for the rest of the night, she sobs in her hands. Begging for this endless hurricane to be over. To go back to the way things were, and to start fresh and to rediscover the love that they once had. To bring back the morning kisses and soft touches. To bring back the passionate love-making. The laughter. The joy of soaking the love from one another.
She wanted everything back.
Her husband.
Their happiness.
Her dignity.
And with a heavy heart as she musters up the strength to numbly climb back up the stairs and retrieve back to her bedroom, she buries herself under the sheets. She cries for the rest of the night. The bed feeling cold and gloomy. The empty space beside her a constant reminder of the turmoil her marriage was in.
She just hoped that once she awakens the next morning, that this nightmare would be over.
What did you think? Is it worth continuing? Any thoughts? Suggestions? R&R! Until next chapter my loves!
Mwah!*
Demi~