Divorce and a Condition
“Husband.” He breathed out; a short, sharp exhale that captures his agonising thoughts. His imitation eyes, a dull red, that has never strayed from the man in front of him that holds his heart. His pale fingertips reached out, a shaky attempt before the sharpened dagger of the eyes of his husband stopped him. It wasn’t that he has never seen that look before. He’s seen his husband threw more sharper dagger at his enemies including him once upon a time ago. Yet now, with this dagger pointed at him, he had never felt more exposed and more scared than he had ever been.
What changed? He thought their marriage, a full 5 years, was going well. It was going well. Right?
“Husband?” he called out again, this time much softer, pleading.
Finally, his husband exhale, huffing like he was tired. Eyes finally relenting to the weight of the burden the holder had carried since it was placed. His husband, his handsome husband, strayed his eyes, looking at the documents splayed in a hurry on the table. The documents that he refused to look at until now.
“I want you to sign the papers, Tobirama.” He finally said, still not looking at him.
Oh. Now he knows what the papers is about. He didn’t move, paralysed.
“I-If you sign the papers then you’ll finally be free.” His husband said. “You’ll be free of this marriage. And me. We both knew from the moment we married each other that this is all a sham. Merely an agreement to connect both the company. It was never for the both of us. So, please sign the papers, Tobirama.”
What? What? Is that what his husband has been thinking? That this marriage was a sham? His marriage of 5 years? He wondered what his face looked like from his husband’s point of view. Was it grief? Was it anger or was it betrayal that tainted his hideous face? However, he most definitely felt his face heating up, a splash of metallic bits on the tips of his tongue. The tips of his fingernails digging into his palm, hidden underneath the table, trembling.
Perhaps it was anger. Anger at the thoughts that his husband has the notion that he’s the one that will be free from his own partner. As if he was some prisoner to be freed from its shackles. If he was, then it was him that personally put the shackles on himself. He doesn’t want to be freed, if anything he wanted this marriage. He was free at his husband’s side.
Maybe there was something on his face that made his husband decided that he needed more coaxing. “Please, Tobirama, sign the paper. If you do, you can move on and so do I. And...And-“
“Can I ask?” his voice, soft, yet it cuts through whatever his husband had wanted to say. The man nodded, and with that, a few strands of pitch black hair fell into his face. “Were you-were you happy during this marriage?” happy as I did? He wanted to add, but held himself back in case his answer was not what he hoped for.
It took perhaps a few ticks of the hand clock hung in the kitchen wall before he heard the answer. And the answer came in a soft, yet sharp breath, as if he had thought about this before. “No.” He paused. “No, Tobirama, I wasn’t ever happy during this marriage.” He said, a little more louder and firmer.
Tobirama’s heart shattered. He hoped that his face didn’t betray his thoughts. He hoped that his heartbreak didn’t leak through the gaps of his heart and into his glassy eyes. He hoped that his hope that died didn’t leave though his mouth to plead to his husband and he hoped that anger didn't rush through his hands; reaching out to the papers and rip it apart before tossing it into the hearth.
But. But he does nothing. Because he loves his husband, more than anything. And breaks his heart more that all this time, it was him that was selfish, selfish for carrying and holding on to this marriage like some kind of gateway to freedom and his own happy ending. Here he was being happy and content when his husband was suffering in silent in a marriage that he longed to be free of. He was selfish, just as his father had drilled into his head many times.
Then, he decided, as if the veil was lifted, he finally saw the way and what he must do to rectify his crime. His hands reached out for the papers and the pen. He stared at it, the lights above his head casting shadows on the papers. “I will sign, but with a condition.” He stuttered out, looking up and into the beautiful reddish hue eyes that is his husband. The man startled, eyes slightly narrowing.
“Depends.”
“Don’t worry, husband. I’m not that cruel as to ask something that is impossible from you.” He huffed a laugh. “But, all i ask is one year.”
“What? One year of what?”
“I apologise. Let me be more clear. Give me one more year of this marriage.”
“What do you want, Tobirama? This is unnecesary, when you can just end it right now.” The man shut his eyes, exasperated.
He looked at his husband, amused. “5 years of this marriage and I thought you were content with this arrangement, husband. 5 years and I thought you were at least happy. I was ha-content. Let me-allow me to be a little bit selfish and ask from you, just one more year with you. Allow me to create happy memories for us and I swear, I will sign the papers a year from now.”
His husband exhaled, looking at him as if debating with himself whether or not he should allow the whims of a self-serving man. But something inside of him must have relented because he saw the moment his husband agreed silently to his condition; eyebrows relaxed and shoulders dropped from its tensed perch. The man nodded and reached out to the divorce papers. But he was faster and immediately snatched it from the man.
“Let me hold on to it, husband. Don’t worry, this is so I can just sign it when the time comes.” He paused, noticing that his husband wasn’t convinced. “I’ll keep it safe.” Finally the man leaned back, packing his pen and stood. The lights of the dining room casted shadows behind him that made his husband more menacing, with his hair more pronounced in that low lighting. His husband walked towards the door and slipped on his shoes.
“Where are you going, husband? Aren’t you going upstairs to rest?” he stopped at the genkan, his question stops the man before he could reach the doorhandle.
“I’m going to work. Specifically to China.”
Oh, so he dropped by home just so he could tell about the divorce and let him sign the papers. And if he had sign the papers, they would be legally divorce and his husband would continue on with work as if this was just a minor inconvenience for him.
Oh. “When will you be back?” he asked softly, as if he wasn’t on the brink of crying with that revelation.
The man was out of the door, not looking back as he replied. “Maybe Tuesday. Maybe Wednesday. Who knows.” And the door shut.