Writing

THE PERFECT COUPLE

I slammed the door and locked it. 

“Baby, please open the door. Come on, let’s talk. I’m sorry.” 

I leaned up against the bathroom door, trying not to scream. I could feel the tension in my chest tightening. This was our first fight. We’ve never been this angry towards each other, not like this. What happened to us? We were the perfect couple. I had just finished graduating from Princeton and he was already climbing the ladder at his firm. Everything was great. We just bought our first house together. We got married. Weren’t these supposed to be the happiest moments of our lives?

I remember when we first met. I was an intern at his law firm, barely knowing what I was doing. Fresh out of undergrad, I jumped right into the workplace. We occasionally bumped into each other in the break room and made small talk. I was charmed from the second that he spoke to me. It was something about the way that he spoke that drew me to him. He never asked anything else but the same question “Nice weather we’re having, huh?”, even if it was pouring out. Until one day, he didn’t talk about the weather. He came up to me and said, “Would you want to get a drink sometime?” And I said yes.

And now we’re fighting. 

“Please, open the door.” I didn’t want to open the door. I was afraid of what was behind it. I walked to the mirror. I looked at where my cheek was becoming red. I touched it. I flinched at the pain but I just stared at myself. Who am I? Am I one of those wives now? 

“I’m sorry.” I could hear it in his voice. He was crying. I closed my eyes to try to stop the tears but it was too late. It pained me to hear him like this. It doesn’t excuse what he did. But when you love someone that much, everything they feel, you feel. You become one. The tension in my chest loosened and I started to breathe. I went towards the door and put my hand, shaking, towards the knob. I paused, my hand still in mid-air. Was I ready to face what was behind this door? Who would be there when I turned that knob? I would have to find out myself. I turned the knob and opened the door. He was on the floor with his head between his knees across the hall. I walked out of the doorway and stood there staring at him.

His head lifted up at the sound of the door creaking. There were tears coming down his face. He looked so upset. He got up and pulled me into a hug and squeezed. I stood there with my arms hanging there as he caressed my hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered in between kisses into my hair. I slowly put my arms up around his back. He started crying into my shoulder. I started crying. We were just there crying in each other’s arms. Finally, we stopped and just stared at each other for a moment. Both of us red in the eyes and nose. He smiled at me. I smiled back. He leaned over and gave me a kiss. It was soft but it was a kiss nonetheless. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you,” I whispered. He kissed me on the forehead.

“Do you forgive me?” he asked. He was looking at me, searching for an answer. He had his hands on the nape of my neck. His fingers were softly brushing against my cheeks. I looked up at him. I thought to myself. 

Did I forgive him? Could I forgive him? What would happen if I said no? 

These questions ran through my head as I looked at the man that I was madly in love with. The man that I wanted to have children with. The man that I was going to spend the rest of my life with. So I said what anyone in my situation would say.

“Yes. I forgive you.” He smiled. 

“I promise I will never hurt you like that again. Never again,” he pulled me into another kiss and hugged me. 

And I believed him.