VIA| When I got home that night my wife served dinner. I held her hand and said, “I’ve got something to tell you.” She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.
Suddenly I didn’t know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking about divorce. I raised the topic calmly. She didn’t seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, “Why?”
I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, “You are not a man!”
That night, we didn’t talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Jane. I didn’t love her anymore, I just pitied her.
With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it to pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources, and energy but I could not take back what I had said. I loved Jane now.
Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.
The next day, I came home late and found her writing something at the table. I didn’t have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast after an eventful day with Jane. When I woke up, she was still at the table writing.
But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, “I hadn’t noticed that our life lacked intimacy.”
I drove to office, jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind. I walked upstairs. Jane opened the door. “Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore.”
She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. “Do you have a fever?” she replied.
I moved her hand off my head. “Sorry, Jane,” I said. “I won’t divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of our lives, not because we didn’t love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day, I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart.”
Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away. At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The saleswoman asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, “I’ll carry you out every morning until death do us apart.”
That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face. I ran up the stairs only to find my wife in the bed – dead. My wife had been fighting cancer for months, but I was too busy with Jane to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and wanted to save me from any negative reaction from our son, in case we push through with the divorce. At least, in the eyes of our son, I’m a loving husband.
The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. It’s not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves.
So find time to be your spouse’s friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. Have a real happy marriage!