Chapter 256: $500 Cash needed

Marion slid the key into the lock, turned it twice, and pushed the door open. She had barely stepped inside when Martin’s voice reached her from the living room.

"Did you get the 500 cash?"

Marion paused her action while standing in the doorway, holding the door handle.

Martin never greeted her sweetly. Not even a hello.

He never cared to ask how her day went. Not even a single word acknowledged that she had worked hard and still kept smiling without complaint. She never heard a simple word of appreciation from her husband for taking care of him and their family.

The greetings Martin always gave her were: what will she cook, or to get him beer, or not to talk to him because he needed alone time for himself. He wanted to relax. He wanted some peace. And Today.... Five hundred cash.... That was his greeting!

Marion closed her eyes. And Nelson’s words were still burning through her head, circling and circling, and now Martin’s voice piled on top of them, and the combination created a throbbing in her temples.

She took a deep breath and decided to ignore Martin.

She pulled off her shoes, one foot pressing against the heel of the other, and placed them by the wall. She hung her purse on the hook beside the door, the same hook she had used every evening for the past nine years, and walked through the living room toward the washroom.

"Have you gone deaf, you piece of heavy meat?"

Marion stopped at once, hearing Martin disrespectful comment. She slowly turned to face him to look at the guy who had once promised her happiness, who had promised to love her unconditionally, promised her he would spend his entire life taking care of her.

Now she was looking at the man whom she didn’t recognise anymore...

He was the man who couldn’t keep his promise after the second child was born.

Martin was half-lying on the couch the way he did every evening, his body sprawled across the cushions with one arm draped over the backrest and a beer bottle dangling from his other hand. He sat in front of the television, watching the ice hockey game.

"When was the last time you asked me how I was doing?" Marion questioned him, her voice coming out stronger.

Martin’s gaze crawled over her, up and down dismissively, the way a man surveys something he considers beneath the effort of a proper response. He took a sip of his beer and sneered against the rim of the bottle.

"Your hands and legs are working perfectly fine. What is there to ask?"

Marion’s chest tightened at his words. Her fingers curled at her sides.

"What do you see me as, Martin? A machine or a human being?"

The words left Marion’s mouth defiantly. For once, she did not care what he would think, how badly he would react, or whether his anger would spill over onto the children later.

She had spent years swallowing every complaint before it could become an argument, years choosing silence because silence kept the house peaceful for a few more hours.

But today the evils were testing her patience. And she wanted answers.

"Every single day, for years, I have worked without stopping while you..." Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to continue. "You come home and expect to be treated like a king the moment you walk through that door. Have you ever once thought that I might be tired too? That I might want an hour to myself after work? That maybe I also want to sit down without someone calling my name every five minutes to do this or get this and that?" She pressed a hand against her chest, struggling to control everything that was finally coming out. "Have you ever thought that I might want to do absolutely nothing for once? Or that I might want to sit beside my husband and actually spend time with him?"

Martin stared at her for a moment before turning his head away. His attention returned to the television as though her words were nothing more than irritating background noise. "What is this now? Are you about to get your period, or has it already started? Because I don’t know where else all this emotional nonsense is suddenly coming from." He reached for the remote as though she were no longer worth looking at. "And you should know by now, Marion, tears and emotional drama don’t work on me."

Marion stared at him unbelievingly. "Emotional drama?" Something inside her cracked further. "Martin, I work too. And after work, I come home and take care of the children. I prepare breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. I wash the clothes, clean the house, remember appointments, school things, groceries, bills." Her breathing became heavier as the years of exhaustion pushed behind every word. "And then there are your demands at night..." She stopped there, swallowing hard.

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to wipe them away. She had cried quietly enough over the years. She was tired of hiding even that from him. "What do you think I am, Martin?" she asked again, quieter this time, but the question carried far more weight than before. "Tell me. What am I to you? Your wife? The mother of your children? Or your free maid?" Her lips trembled as those words left her mouth. "Or am I just the machine that has no feelings?"

The team whom he supported scored a goal, and he screamed yes in excitement. Only after watching the recap of the action did his eyes turn ot Marion. "Oh, you still standing there." Martin took another lazy sip from his beer. "By the way, is this you talking, or is Cixi putting all the words in your mouth?"

Marion could not believe what she just heard. Instead of answering her question, instead of looking at her face and seeing the nine years of exhaustion carved into it, he was asking who had taught her to speak.

"Instead of blaming others, why don’t you look into the mirror? Apparently, it looks like people are forgetting to self-reflect.... Martin, I need to know what you think of me when you look at me. Or do you even see me?"