Chapter 1

After finding condoms in my husband Jacob's passenger seat yet again, I wasn't angry anymore. I just silently helped him put them away.

Jacob gave me a complicated look and volunteered an explanation.

"Check for yourself. This box hasn't even been opened."

I said nothing, closing my eyes and pretending to sleep.

Half an hour later, he pulled up in front of a store and said to me:

"Let's go buy a gift for your mom. We'll go back to your place together for Christmas to see her."

My tears finally fell.

My mom was dead. He still didn't know.

"Iman? Are you listening to me?"

Jacob's voice dropped several notes, full of oppressive force.

My voice came out hoarse. "No need."

No need to go back. Never need to go back again.

But he misunderstood what I meant and leaned over to look at me.

"Are you mad?

"Just trust me, okay? Otherwise count them yourself."

He opened the box as he spoke, dumping out all the condoms.

His eyes were helpless yet indulgent, as if looking at an unreasonable child.

I wiped my tears and looked over. "I'm really not mad."

Jacob leaned over and hugged me, sighing.

"And you say you're not mad.

"Didn't you always want me to go back with you?

"This Christmas I finally don't have any work obligations.

"If we miss this chance, who knows when the next one will be."

His palm gently soothed my back, just like before.

But I numbly pushed him away and nodded.

"Okay, then let's go."

Before my mom died, she kept talking about how Jacob was too busy with work and hadn't been able to visit.

If Jacob had time this Christmas, it would be good for him to pay his respects.

After all, once we got divorced, there'd be no reason to ask him to go.

But on Christmas day, Jacob didn't come home.

As if I'd expected it all along, I calmly accepted the possibility that he might miss the flight.

So I took a cab to the airport by myself.

It wasn't until the plane started moving that he called me.

"Sorry, something came up here that delayed me.

"Can you change your ticket? How about we leave tonight instead?"

I looked at the scenery retreating outside the window and swallowed my tears.

"No need. I've already left."

I didn't even bother asking him the reason.

But Jacob volunteered an explanation.

"It's really not because of Leah this time.

"A project we'd already agreed on suddenly had some problems. I thought I could make it.

"Iman, don't make a scene."

I don't know where he heard that I was making a scene. I spoke calmly.

"I know you're busy. You can come tomorrow."

Waiting one more day didn't matter. That's all there was to it.

Jacob breathed a sigh of relief.

"Wait for me like a good girl. I'll cook for Mom when I get there.

"She always said my cooking was good. It's probably been years since she's had it.

"This time I absolutely—"

"I'm tired. I want to sleep."

I interrupted his fantasy, tears streaming down my face.

I really wanted to scream it out loud.

My mom can't eat it anymore! Where were you all this time!

But I was tired. I didn't want to argue.

Too many arguments. I'd argued myself into exhaustion.

It was like I was a person without self-respect, shamelessly begging for his attention.

As long as he came, as long as my mom could see him.

It wouldn't be for nothing that my mom had raised him all those years.

It wouldn't be for nothing that I'd brought him home back then, and for over a decade after, he'd eaten at my house every day.

But I'd overestimated him after all.