Chapter Text
“C’mon, baby. It’s not like I did it on purpose!” Satoru whines as he follows you move around the kitchen island.
You ignore him though, your attention completely fixated on the pork cutlet you’re slicing. But Satoru is just as stubborn as you are, so he wraps his arm around your waist, caging you in a tight embrace so you can’t escape him anymore, and rests his chin on top of your shoulder.
“It was an important project, I swear,” he murmurs. His warm breath fans your ear as he leans in closer. When you remain silent though, he presses you harder against his chest, making you squeeze your eyes shut and letting go of the knife with a soft clatter.
You heave out a slow and quiet sigh that he recognizes. The kind that you let out when you’re getting tired of his excuses, not because they’re constant but you know they’re not true. But Satoru is bold enough to even care how he is getting into your nerves already, so he leans in further. His lips trail open-mouth kisses beneath your ear down to your neck. You can’t deny that the gentle touch melts you somehow and it sends tingles in your spine, but he can’t make his apology through those warm kisses that you’re not even sure if it already warm someone else.
“Satoru, please.” You tilt your head, pushing his with the tip of yours, but he only turns you around. You let out another sigh as you roll your eyes this time. He pins your hip against the kitchen island and rests his hands on your either side, gripping on the cold tile behind you.
“It’s not another woman, okay?” he whispers this time, raw and honest. All the whiny and playful attitude he’s pulling is now gone. Just that genuine and silent plea to believe him.
You stare back at him, eyes half-lidded. An evident tell that you are exhausted of this scenario. How many times have you gone through this? You lost count at 40.
“I promise you, it’s not. You can ask my secretary if you want. She stayed there while I was working on that file.”
Honestly, at that point, you don’t know what to believe anymore. How many times have you caught him with another woman again? Ah, right. Four.
The first time it happened, he blamed it on you, saying he has needs that you need to tend on as his wife. But since you can’t do it, he finds company with someone else. You believed him, of course, because at some point, it is true. You think of resorting to divorce, but he realizes that he doesn't want anyone else during the process, so he begs for forgiveness.
The second time it happened, he blamed it on himself. He diagnosed himself that he didn’t receive enough attention when he was young. He was hated for his obnoxious personality. So, now that girls are throwing themselves on him, it is an ego boost. But he realized that it’s you whom he truly wants. You believed that he needed to heal that broken child inside of him.
The third time it happened, he said it was an accident. He missed you for being gone on a business trip. He went to a bar to numb the pain of yearning. He fucked another woman whom he thought was you. It was painful to know that he touched and was touched by another woman, but it was a genuine mistake, right?
The fourth time it happened, he was lonely and needed comfort after an argument with you. He didn’t mean to kiss another woman he met in an island he went on to blow some steam. He didn’t mean to pull down his pants and pound on her. It was the heat of the moment, but he realized that it’s you whom he love. It was another mistake as he said.
And you forgave him every single time. You know it’s stupid and everyone around you who knows that history makes it damn clear too.
One is enough.
Two is too much.
Three is dangerous.
But you love Satoru so much. So, every single time he asks for your forgiveness, you always try to understand him. Every time it happens, there is this tiny hope that lingers in you. The tiny hope that you hold onto that this time, he will really change. That this time, he means those cries for remorse. That this time, he realizes that he doesn’t need anymore of those girls’ affection and admiration just to boost his ego. But that hope that lingers has its limit too.
So, every time an incident like this happens, when he comes home late and can’t make it to an important event — your anniversary last night for instance — you can’t help but second-guess his excuses. Arguments or sulking that will only last for one day when you still don’t know about his infidelity turns into a week. So, although his excuse that night somehow gets into you, you keep the cold shoulders until the next day.
You’re planning to make burger steak for dinner that day until Satoru comes home with Shoko, your and his friend, to babysit your eight-year-old kid, Gaku, for the night while he takes you out for a dinner date to make up for missing your anniversary the other night.
You’re holding on to the last thread of your grudge that night. You’re so close to giving in until you arrive at the restaurant.
He tells you that he actually already booked a reservation on this restaurant a few days before the anniversary to surprise you but the unexpected dilemma comes in, so he moves the reservation for the next day. You’re already standing in front of the reception desk, telling the receptionist about the reservation when Satoru notices he forgot his phone and wallet in the car, so he leaves you for a moment to come back for it. Instinct kicks in, so you take the chance to confirm the lingering doubt in your chest.
“Uh, excuse me?” you call the receptionist politely, smiling calmly that contradicts the rapid beat of your heart. “I just… I’m sorry if this may sound weird, but I just would like to confirm if our reservation was originally booked on Thursday and when was it booked? My husband says he has to cancel for that day though, so he moved that reservation for tonight.”
“Mr. Gojo Satoru, Ma’am, is it?”
“Mhm.” You nod at her, eyes eager with anticipation as you hold tighter onto your purse. Despite the distant chattering and slow music playing in the background, you can hear your heartbeat right on your ears, hammering like crazy. Your eyes never leave the woman’s face as she checks the computer screen in front of her.
“There is a reservation for Mr. Gojo this Wednesday, Ma’am.” She smiles, her eyes flickering on you for a second before returning to the computer. Just as you thought you could finally breathe a sigh of relief, the next statement she spills makes your heart drop. “But the reservation is made on that same day at 12 in the afternoon. And, um…”
“Tell me,” you command sharply yet weakly, cutting through the hesitance of the receptionist because you can’t take anymore of this overthinking thing. You’re barely holding on.
“His reservation on Wednesday is not actually canceled. He… showed up.” The receptionist smiles at you; whether it is apologetic for the false information that your husband gives you or for the next revelation she’ll say, you can’t tell for sure. “I don’t mean to meddle, Ma’am, but he actually showed up that night with another girl.”
“Must be about business though…” you whisper, but from how weak it sounds, it sounds more like assuring yourself. “No?”
Tears well up in your eyes but you try your best to hold it in, eyebrows arching in an upset manner. Even though your voice is dwindling when you speak and your lips quivering as you plead to hear an answer that seems impossible but you still hope to hear.
“If business means giving the lady a bouquet of roses, I guess it is.” The receptionist shrugs her shoulder and smiles apologetically once more.
“Baby!” A warm arm suddenly wraps around your waist and the familiar fruity scent of your husband’s perfume wafts in the air.
You immediately blink the forming tears in your eyes and look away, wiping your thumb underneath your eyes.
“You okay?” Satoru asks casually as he ducks his head, trying to peek at your face. When he notices what you’re doing, his smile morphs into a frown. “Baby, are you crying?”
“Allergies,” you murmur as you open your purse, distracting him and yourself. “Ah, crap. I think I forgot to bring the meds.”
“Oh, you stubborn sweet angel. Did you eat chicken for lunch?” He pinches your cheek, laughing softly but frowning at the same time.
“I guess. Let’s just get to the table. It’s just some tears anyway.”
While it’s true that your eyes become teary of itching when you eat too much chicken, you honestly just want to get through the night.
Usually, you’ll be loud with your rage once you find him with another woman or about the other woman. But that night, the fifth time that you discover his infidelity, it becomes the last straw. You go on quietly with it. You pretend that you are fine with the dinner date; you sleep with him in your shared bedroom; you even make him breakfast the next morning and the following days. You show him no sign that you have an inkling about what he’s doing behind your back.
Until he arrives home on the fifth day ever since that dinner. He comes home to a quiet house. No sign of his son playing around with his scattered toys on the floor or watching his favorite afternoon cartoon. No sign of you cooking for dinner. Just that spare key of your house on top of a paper on the console table beside the front door. He hears nothing from you at all. No yelling. No crying. No proper goodbye. Just an empty house and a divorce paper.