As I arrived home that evening, my wife prepared dinner. I gently grasped her hand and uttered, “I have something important to share with you.” She sat down and silently consumed her meal. Once more, I noticed the pain reflected in her eyes.
All of a sudden, I couldn't find the words to speak. However, I needed to tell her about my thoughts on divorce. I brought up the subject in a calm manner. She didn't appear upset by what I said; instead, she gently asked, “Why?”
I evaded her inquiry, which angered her. In frustration, she tossed aside the chopsticks and yelled at me, saying, “You lack courage!”
That evening, we remained silent. She was crying. I understood that she desired to uncover the truth about our marriage. However, I struggled to provide her with a fulfilling response; my heart had already been captured by Jane. I no longer loved her, I only felt sorry for her.
Feeling guilty, I wrote up a divorce agreement giving her the house, car, and 30% of my company. She looked at it briefly before tearing it apart. The woman I spent a decade with now felt like a stranger. I regretted her lost time, money, and effort, but my feelings for Jane were undeniable.
She finally burst into tears in front of me, just as I had anticipated. Her crying seemed like a form of relief to me. The thought of divorce, which had been consuming me for weeks, now felt more definite and certain.
The following day, I arrived home late and discovered her busy writing at the table. I skipped dinner and went straight to bed, quickly falling asleep after a busy day with Jane. Upon waking up, she was still seated at the table, engrossed in her writing.
She came forward with her divorce terms in the morning. She didn't ask for anything from me, just a month's notice before finalizing the divorce. She suggested that during this month, we try our best to maintain a normal life. Her motive was clear – our son had important exams in a month, and she didn't want our failed marriage to affect him.
I was okay with it, but she had an additional request. She wanted me to remember how I had carried her into our honeymoon suite on our wedding day. She asked me to carry her from our bedroom to the front door every morning for the entire month. I thought she was losing her mind, but to make our remaining time together more pleasant, I agreed to her strange demand.
I informed Jane about the conditions for my wife's divorce. She burst into laughter and found it ridiculous. “Regardless of the tactics she tries, she will have to go through with the divorce,” she said mockingly.
Since I had expressed my intention to divorce, my wife and I had not touched each other. Therefore, on the first day when I carried her, we both seemed awkward. Our son cheered from behind, saying, “Daddy is holding Mommy!”.
His words made me feel hurt. I carried her from the bedroom to the living room and then to the door, walking more than ten meters. She closed her eyes and whispered, “Please don't mention the divorce to our son.”
I agreed, feeling a bit sad. I left her outside the door. She went to wait for the bus. I went by myself to the office.
On the following day, we both felt more relaxed. She rested her head on my chest, and I caught a whiff of her blouse's scent. It dawned on me that I hadn't truly observed this woman in a while. I noticed the delicate lines on her face and the gray strands in her hair. Our marriage had left its mark on her, and for a moment, I pondered over my role in it.
As the fourth day arrived, I lifted her and felt a familiar closeness. She had devoted ten years of her life to me. On the following days, our bond seemed to deepen even more. I kept this to myself, not sharing with Jane. With each passing month, it became easier to carry her, maybe because of my regular exercise routine.
One morning, she struggled to pick out an outfit. After trying on several dresses, she couldn't find one that fit. She sighed, “All my dresses are too big now.” It dawned on me that she had become thinner, which made it easier for me to carry her.
In an instant, I realized. She had hidden immense sorrow and resentment within her. Without thinking, I gently touched her head.
Our son entered the room and told me, “Dad, it's time to take mom out.” Watching me carry his mother had become very important to him. My wife motioned for our son to come closer and embraced him tightly. I looked away, fearing I might reconsider. I then carried her in my arms, walking through the house. Her hand gently wrapped around my neck. I held her close, just like on our wedding day.
Her lighter weight made me feel sorrowful. On the final day, as I carried her, I struggled to take a single step. Our son was at school. I embraced her tightly and confessed, “I didn't realize our life was missing intimacy.”
I hurriedly parked my car at the office and hastily got out without locking the door. I was worried that any delay might cause me to reconsider. I made my way upstairs and Jane greeted me at the door. “Jane, I'm sorry, but I've changed my mind about the divorce.”
She gazed at me in surprise before placing her hand on my forehead. “Are you feeling unwell?” she asked.
I gently removed her hand from my head. “Apologies, Jane,” I expressed. “I won't seek a divorce. Our marriage lacked excitement perhaps because we neglected the little things, not because our love had faded. It's clear to me now that from the moment I brought her into our home on our wedding day, I am meant to cherish her until death separates us.”
Jane abruptly woke up, slapped me loudly, then slammed the door and started crying. I went downstairs, left, and stopped at a flower shop. I bought a bouquet for my wife and wrote on the card, “I'll carry you every morning until death do us part.”
When I got home that evening, I held flowers and had a smile on my face. I hurried up the stairs, but when I reached the bedroom, I found my wife lying in bed – lifeless. My wife had been battling cancer for months, but I was too preoccupied with Jane to realize. She knew her time was limited and wanted to shield our son from any negative emotions if we went through with the divorce. At least in our son's eyes, I am a caring husband.
The little things in your daily life are the most important in a relationship. It's not the big house, the fancy car, or the money. These things can make a nice setting for happiness, but they can't bring happiness on their own.
Make sure to spend quality time with your partner and show them small gestures of love to strengthen your bond. Wishing you a truly joyful marriage!
