A few days had passed after the conversation. The home started to feel like home again. However, the lingering confusion made home less comfortable. Nevertheless, nothing significant happened in the meantime. The man of the house tried taking good care of his woman, being the ideal husband he was supposed to be.
“How are you feeling?” the husband asked.
“I’m fine. It’s fine,” replied the girl.
Most of their recent small talks followed the same patter. She lied, a lot, with no attempt to lie better. She was lousy at lying and in no rush to become a better liar. To her, it was, it is, “It’s fine!”
Owned by two people and an undecided life, the home acted as a better home for hostility to reside. Invisible, unobservable, indescribable, yet very much present. One evening, the girl wanted a change. She decided to go to a nearby bar. She went to the library room where her husband was busy reading. Her out-of-the-blue appearance in the room bewildered her husband.
“I’ve decided to get rid of it. I don’t wish to linger on something that frustrates me more with each passing day.”
It felt like the woman's announcement somehow stopped time. Everything stopped moving. Getting no answer in return, she reluctantly asked, “Been a while since we properly talked. Do you not love me anymore?”
“Are you okay?” said the startled husband.
“Yes, I am. Are you?”
“I am too,” confused, wondering if he should be smiling, “Yes yes, I am.”
“So what I was say-”
“Yes?” he retorted.
“Shall we have an evening to ourselves?” she sighed.
“What’s your plan?”
“Let’s go to a bar like we used to. Let’s rethink our lives. Let’s get to know each other once again. It feels like I don’t know you anymore. I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want you to live like this.” The girl could feel her pitch getting higher with each sentence of the seemingly breathless monologue. With the setting sun outside, it was hard for the girl to take hints from her husband’s facial expressions. She paused and blurted out, “Please tell me you are happy. You are happy, aren’t you? Please please please please. Tell me how happy you are, how happy I made you. Please.”
Smiling, the husband replied, “Yes, I am.”
Putting the book on the table, he stood up, went closer to his wife, and hugged her.
“We,” he continued, “have to be happy. We will be there for each other like we always have.”
After a very long time, he suddenly felt happy -- mostly because his wife was back to caring more about the family than about her mood swing or her will to be a good mother. Interrupting the intimate silence the husband asked, “Should we get prepared for our evening out?”
“Maybe I have a better plan.”, said the girl.
“What’s that?”
“Let’s spend time at home. Let’s avoid distractions.”
“But,” he faked a stammer, “you are distracting me.”
“How?” she asked laughing.
“You know how sensitive I am to extreme beauty, don’t you?” he answered.
They hugged again. For a moment it felt like everything was perfect, as if things were back to normal, or perhaps, taking a turn for the better. It was hard to pinpoint. Nevertheless, something was different.
“I have a surprise for you,” said the girl with her head on his chest.
“What is it, my love?”
“No. Not like this,” she paused.
“I want you to feel special.”
“I’m intrigued,” he mused.
Moving his arms, she commanded, “You sit down.”
He sat down, like an obedient husband. This was the only instance the girl could think of where her husband obeyed her.
“Close your eyes,” she instructed.
He closed his eyes.
“Tell me what you see.”
“Happiness. I see happiness,” Although, he wondered.
“You are happy after all,” She smiled.
“Yes, I am,” He repeated.
“Do you love me?” She questioned.
“Haha,” he laughed.
“Yes, my love, I do.”
Another brief episode of silence descended upon the room.
“Hello?” asked the husband, his eyes still closed.
“You wait here.”
“I will, my love.”
“Don’t open your eyes,” she commanded.
She swiftly brought out the knife she had hidden underneath the sofa and stabbed
her husband in the chest. Instantly, the husband opened his eyes, disobeying her command.
“Close your eyes, my love.” She whispered.
“Are you happy?” she asked again. Receiving no response in return she announced, “You shouldn’t be. It’s my child and it’s my decision what happens to it.”
Mashaekh Hassan is a student of anthropology at BRAC University.