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She stared at me for a while, silence settling between us. As she curled and uncurled her lips, only one question came to mind. What happened to the woman I married?
I took the stretching silence as an opportunity. “Remember the domestic robotics project I’ve been working on?”
I could tell from the look in her eyes that she didn't remember. She never did.
“…Well, I won the contract today.”
Another round of silence filled the air.
“Congratulations.” Her voice was dry and sounded forced.
I waited for more. When she didn't say anything, I spoke. “Look, Olivia-—”
“What is this?” She interrupted.
“I'm trying to—”
“This isn’t trying. This is forcing a conversation and making things awkward.”
I tugged at my hair, my breath rising with each second.
“Ethan, you're a workaholic. You’re barely there for me. You barely pay attention to me and never have time for anything aside from your company. Of course, you won the contract. I mean, if you didn't, then it means you’ve been lying about work.”
It was taking a lot to restrain my anger, but I was trying. “Stop.”
“You don't like to hear the truth.”
I could feel the anger crawling up my chest.
“That is not true. You claim I don't do things, but I do. I do everything I can to maintain a healthy balance between work and home.”
“You need to try harder.”
The anger crawled up my throat to my mouth.
Suddenly, I exploded. “I've never missed any important event in your life or Sophie's. You fucking knew me before we got married. You knew how much time my company consumed. Even then, I still do my best to balance my time. I close work by four and only stay late when I have to. I don't do unnecessary outings. I fired my previous assistant because you didn't like her. Fuck. I don't even sleep with my wife anymore, and it's only our second year of marriage. What more do you want, Olivia?”
She slammed the door in my face. I opened it up before she could lock it. “Answer me!”
She turned with an angry face. “Congratu-fucking-lations for doing the bare minimum. And when you recall important events, what happens, uh? You bring some stupid flowers and take me to cliché restaurants.”
“… I want to go on vacation. Spend weeks without having to worry that my fucking husband has some company at stake. I want to have your attention! How hard is that for you to understand, Ethan. When I'm in my store, I see ladies come with their husbands. He picks flowers for them, and it's all lovey dovey.”
“I fucking give you flowers, Olivia. Look at this.” I raised the flowers. “I do things for you. You just don’t appreciate them because you're too fixated on others.”
She shook her head frantically. “That's the difference. You give. Those husbands take their wives there! It doesn't feel like a duty to them. They actually love their wives, and they show it. But you…” she shook her head. “I don't know. You… you see it as a fucking duty….as a way to appease me just so I can keep my fucking mouth shut. I don't want to be loved like that.”
“And this isn’t just about flowers. It's about everything you do that makes me feel this way. I want to feel like a wife, not just be one. How many times do I have to say this?!”
“This is us! We’re different. And you should support me. A wife should support her husband. She should acknowledge when he’s making compromises and encourage him to do better.”
“So, what do you want? A pat on the back for doing the bare minimum?”
“Stop calling it that,” I growled, my fist clenched in fury. The urge to smash something was overwhelming.
She glanced at it and then back at me.
“Oh...” Her eyes furrowed in mockery. “You know I could ruin all you’ve worked for in the twinkle of an eye. All it’ll take is to run to the media and tell them you hit me. Better still… you raped me.”
