a/n: this chapter involves some harsh language. i caution you again — do not read this story unless you are of appropriate age.

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May 26, 2016

he is a man, so he pleads to withhold relations with me.

yes, those relations.

i am mechanical. i do not want him to touch me. i do not want him to be near me. every time he comes close, i remember the words he cooed to that woman on the phone. remember the texts he sent her. i remember everything.

so i tell him to back away from me. i yell at him and i tell him i will not allow him to touch me. if that makes me a bad wife, then so be it. i will not allow his fingers — the same ones that texted those vile things to that woman — to even come close to caressing my cheek.

i tell him that if he needs this, then go out and find it elsewhere. find it with that woman. i give him full permission and i don't give a crap what he does. he gives me bewildered eyes. i want to claw his eyes out, but more than that i want to drown in the waves threatening to pull my head under. they are lapping around me silently, waiting for my command.

i want to give them the OK.

i want this bottomless well to open up, i want the fragile ground beneath me to crumble and collapse, i want to let go of the tattered, thin strap of rope that is left of the thick rope of sanity that i used to hold on to. the thick rope of certainty.

i want to let it go. i want to give in.

why, you ask?

in life i had one thing that gave me power, that gave me strength, that gave me courage. i had one thing that made every storm easier to brave, one thing that cleared my path through every blizzard, one thing that gave me the hope of light at the end of the tunnel.

and it was that this man — my husband — loved me. that he was sincere with me.

now why don't you tell me — if i had only one thing to give me courage, one thing to uproot me, one thing that steadied the ground beneath my feet, one thing i accepted as truth in this life — then, if that one thing turned out to be a lie, what is left to be true?

what is left to give me certainty?

.   .   .

wo aik aadmi hain, to wo iltijaa karte hai ke wo mere saath relations nibhaana chahte hai.

han, wo relations.

mai mechanical hun. mai nahi chahti k wo mujhe choohe. mai nahi chahti k wo mere nazdeek aae. jab bhi wo nazdeek aate hain, mujhe wo alfaaz yaad aate hai jo unho ne us aurat ko pyaar se bole phone pe. mujhe wo texts yaad aate hai jo unho ne usko bheje. mujhe sab kuch yaad aata hai.

to mai un ko kehti hun ke mere se door rahe. mai un pe cheekh ti hun aur unko bataati hun k mai unko chooh ne ki ijaazat nahi dungi. agar is se mai aik buri biwi ban jaati hun, phir aisa hi hai. mai un ki ungliyon ko ijaazat nahi dungi — wohi ungliyaan jinho ne us aurat ko wo naa paak cheezay text ki thi — ke wo mere gaalon ko chooh ne k nazdeek bhi aae.

mai un ko kehti hun k agar un ko ye sakhti se chaahiye hai, to bahir jaa kar kahi aur dhoondh le. us aurat k saath dhoondh le. mai un ko puri ijaazat deti hun aur meri to jooti ko bhi nahi parwaa ke wo kya karte hain. wo mujhe hairat zadaa aankhe dete hain. mai un ki aankhe bahir nikaal na chahti hun, lekin us se zyaada mai lehron me doobna chahti hun jo mujhe baar baar neechay khainchne ki dhamkiyaan de rahe hai. wo lehre khamoshi se mere ird gird phir rahe hai, mere hukm ka intezaar kar rahe hai.

mai un ko "han" bolna chahti hun.

mai chahti hun k ye bottomless koowa mere neechay khul jaae, mai chahti hun ke mere neechay naazuk zameen toot phoot kar gir jaae, mai chahti hun k mai is patli, tooti, aur peeti hui rassi ko chor du jo pehle aik moti, mazboot si rassi hoti thi meri sanjeedgi ki. yaqeen ki moti rassi.

mai ise jaane dena chahti hun. mai haar maan na chahti hun.

kyun, aap pooch te hai?

zindagi me mere paas aik cheez thi jis ne mujhe taaqat di, jis ne mujhe mazbooti di, jis ne mujhe himmat di. mere paas aik cheez thi jis ne har tuffaan ko bahadur karna aasaan kiya tha, aik cheez jis se har barfaani tuffaan se raasta saaf ho gaya tha, aik cheez jis ne mujhe surang ke aakhir me roshni ki umeed di thi.

aur wo ye thi ke ye aadmi — mere shohar — mujh se pyaar karte the. ke wo mere saath mukhlis the.

ab aap hi mujhe bataae — agar mere paas sirf aik cheez thi jis ne mujhe himmat di, aik cheez jis ne mujhe akaar diya, aik cheez jis ne mere paaoon k neechay zameen ko mastahikam ki thi, aik cheez jis se maine is dunya me sach samjha — phir, agar wo aik hi cheez jhoot nikli, to kya baaqi reh gaya hai sach hona?

mujhe yaqeen dene k liye kya baaqi reh gaya hai?

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oof. this chapter was particularly difficult and painful to write.