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Tuesday, 2nd June 1998.
It’s Tuesday again, so I meet up with sweet Dong Sicheng over a plate of spaghetti and wine at Tony’s. He's been my best friend since high school. He's kind, selfless, easy on the eyes... and married to a deadbeat.
As usual, I’m the first to get to the restaurant, but he walks in minutes later. “Hey,” he sighs. He's worse than the last time I saw him. The light in his eyes was entrapped by dark circles underneath. Something wasn’t right.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. He places his hands on the table and fidgets with his wedding ring. “I think... I think Yuta might be cheating,” he says. I saw this coming, way before they even got married. But what could I have done? He was happy, he was in love, but now he’s been losing sleep over a douche of a husband.
Still, I say nothing and stare confusedly back at him instead. “What makes you say that?” He sighs once more. “It’s just–,” he stops, thinks, and continues. “He hasn’t been home much lately... It’s not like he’s gotten a promotion at work either. He doesn’t even pick up the phone when I call him. And he screamed at me the other day for holding his hand. Just a month ago we were talking about having kids together and suddenly I can’t even hold his hand?”
“Maybe he’s just–”
“There’s been money missing from our joint account too.”
I fall silent at that. “How much?” I ask, to which he replies, “A couple hundred.” I purse my lips, not knowing what to say. I’ve never been good with words.
A waiter approaches us and asks if we’re ready to order. We get our regular orders and it’s quiet once more.
Tuesday, 16th June 1998.
“I’m going to confront him tonight,” Sicheng tells me once he settles down in his chair across. He's wearing a pretty white button-down tonight, with pearl accessories to match. He really is stunning. “Go for it,” I encourage him.
Hopefully, they’ll get divorced soon.
Tuesday, 23rd June 1998.
Sicheng isn’t here yet. He's never late for anything. I’ve been waiting at the table since half past eight. I don’t have a phone, so I can’t call him. The waiter has already come to the table one too many times, asking me if I was ready to order yet.
It was a quarter to ten now. I noticed one of the waiters approach my table. I take it as my queue to leave.
———
I bike through the night in silence. I took a different route tonight, one that passed through Sicheng's side of the neighbourhood. I rode past his house. The lights were out, but his husband's truck was still in the driveway.
Wednesday, 24th June 1998.
Sicheng's been gone.
Word travels quickly in small towns. But honestly? I knew about it before word got out. Only because the case got assigned to my brother, Renjun. He phoned my landline first thing in the morning.
“Yuta just reported Sicheng missing. They assigned me the case since he’s close to our family,” he explained. They were right, Sicheng was close with our family. He practically lived at my parent's place before I moved out.
“We’ll find him soon, I promise,” my brother assured me and hung up.
Friday, 26th June 1998.
I was called to the local police station today. Renjun explained to me that interrogation was a standard procedure. “You don’t need to tell me, I’ve been here more than you have,” I joked. “Never for a missing person case though,” he replies and arranges the papers in front of him.
He then starts the interrogation.
“Where were you the night Nakamoto Sicheng went missing?”
“Waiting for him at Tony’s. We meet up every Tuesday to catch up because of Sicheng's busy schedule.”
“When was the last time you saw Sicheng?”
“Last Tuesday at Tony’s. As I said, that’s the only time I ever see him.”
“Do you have any idea what might’ve happened to him?”
“No... But I did cycle past his place to check on him. There weren’t any lights turned on inside and Yuta's truck was in the driveway. I assumed he was fine and left.”
The interrogation ended after a few more questions.
Thursday, 16th July 1998.
It’s been a while. Sicheng hasn’t been found yet. Renjun told me that the department ordered him to close the case and make it look like Sicheng ran away on his own accord, but Renjun is stubborn. “The least you deserve is some sort of closure,” he reasoned.
I’ve been cycling through Sicheng's side of the neighbourhood more often. Every time I pass his house, Yuta's new side-whore is there. Today I found out that he’s moved in and that he stays in Sicheng's bedroom.
Yuta never deserved Sicheng.
He was called to the police station more than the rest of us, given that he was the last person to have seen Sicheng. He was a prime suspect but got off the hook because there wasn’t enough evidence to throw him in the slammer.
I decided to host a potluck in Sicheng's honour. He always liked food and cooking. It was the least I could do for him. Only those close to him were invited, including Yuta. He would’ve wanted him to be there.
“It’s almost like you’ve deemed him dead,” Renjun states sombrely. “Between you and me, I think he’s long gone,” I confess as the doorbell rings.
I open it to see Nakamoto Yuta standing on the porch, side-by-side with his "girlfriend". “Howdy y’all,” he greets in a thick Southern accent as he lets himself in. “Hope ya don’t mind I brought Doyoung over ‘ere.” Doyoung had the guts to beam in my face and say, “We brought chocolate cupcakes! I baked them myself.”
My eye twitched. “Sicheng hates chocolate,” I stated plainly. Doyoung's smile drops and Yuta tightens his hold on his shoulder. “No matter, we’re the ones eatin’ ‘em anyway,” Yuta reasons shallowly.
I clench my jaw and silently count to ten. For Sicheng, I think. Tolerate him for Sicheng.
“But the entire purpose of this gathering is to honour Sicheng. Don’t you think we should bring things he likes?” I argue. The longer Yuta stands there, the quicker I lose my cool. “Why don’t we all head to the dining room instead, hm?” Renjun interrupts, steering me away from the couple. I walk ahead of them so I can get the pork pie out of the oven.
The dining table is big enough to fit everyone. There weren't many people, just a couple of friends who stuck with us after high school, Renjun, Yuta, Doyoung, and me.
I dished out the pork pie. “I love your pie!” someone commented whilst the others agreed.
That's not what you all said before.
Saturday, 25th July 1998.
It’s around seven AM when I get a call from my brother. His voice is grainy and slightly distorted through the landline’s receiver, but I manage to make out what he’s saying.
“We found Sicheng.”
———
I fell to my knees, haunched over the toilet bowl as I emptied the contents from my stomach. I can faintly hear the ten AM news over my retching.
“Breaking news; local teens find the head of Nakamoto Sicheng buried in the undergrowth of the woods on the outskirts of town. Thirty-one-year-old Nakamoto Sicheng recently went missing and was last seen by his husband, Nakamoto Yuta, before he left for work on the twenty-third of June. The authorities have yet to release further details.”
I lay crumpled on the bathroom floor as the news reporter drones on about the weather report.
It’s funny, I think, how suddenly everyone would start caring about you once you’re gone. Most do, some don’t. It’s sad to think that the same is happening with Sicheng now. He deserved better. But it’s okay because he’s safe with me now.
He won’t ever get hurt again. I’ll make sure of that.
[Behind The Scenes]
Wednesday, 17th June 1998.
Sicheng phoned my landline. “He admitted,” was the first thing he told me when I picked up. His voice was strained and soft. He'd been crying.
“Oh,” I reply unintelligently. “He’s been sleeping around with some guy named Doyoung... Did I do something to make him do that? Am I not enough for him? I just– I don’t–” he stops to breathe. My poor, poor, helpless Sicheng. None of this would have ever happened if he had taken my love seriously.
“Oh– Oh dear, he’s back, I’ll catch you next week.”
The line went dead.
Tuesday, 23rd June 1998.
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have someone's love all to yourself.
At nine AM, Sicheng picks up the morning newspaper from his front porch. At eight forty-five AM, I leave a sticky note on his newspaper telling him to meet me in the woods outside of town.
Sicheng finds me in the woods. He’s the first to speak, as usual.
“What’s up?”
Even with bed hair and lack of makeup, Sicheng is still pretty in my eyes. No one else sees his beauty, no one else understands his sharp mind, no one knows the real Dong Sicheng. But I do. And with such a privilege, don’t I deserve to have him all for myself?
Don’t I?
———
‘Til death do us part’ is a popular term used in media. From my understanding, it means to love someone even after death, to stay loyal to them beyond the afterlife. So when I felt warmth spread to my cheeks even while staring at Dong Sicheng’s lifeless corpse, I knew I was in love with him.
They also say that you carry a piece of the ones you’ve loved with you; that you’re a shell of every person who has been dear to you in your entire lifetime. I’ll have a piece of Sicheng soon. He’ll become one with my body soon.
I was stuck in a euphoric high as I severed the limbs of his decapitated body. I’ll have his heart soon. It’ll be a part of me soon.
I couldn’t wait to find out what his heart tastes like.
Thursday, 16th July 1998.
Everyone loved the pie. I’m glad. At least they love Sicheng when he’s dead. Now everyone who loves Sicheng has a piece of him with them.
Saturday, 19th July 1998.
They found Sicheng’s pretty head. It must have decomposed to a certain level by now. Good thing I left a bone with his name carved on it so the police wouldn’t have to struggle with it too much.
I’m so glad.