Chapter 5
By the time bedtime rolled around, the house was quiet.
My parents went into the guest room, and I lingered in the living room, wiping the table and tidying up the cups.
James came out of the bathroom, his hair still damp, dressed in gray pajamas. He walked over to the cabinet, opened it, and grabbed his usual pillow and a thin blanket.
He moved with practiced ease, like he'd done it a hundred times before.
He carried the items toward the couch. As he rounded the hallway corner, my mom pushed open the door to the guest room and stepped out.
She was just coming out to get some water.
She was holding a thermos, and when she saw James carrying his pillow and blanket, she froze in place.
"James, what are you doing? Why are you bringing your pillow and blanket out here?" my mom asked.
James stopped in his tracks.
He glanced back at me.
Just that glance from him sent my blood rushing straight to my head.
He never expected my mom would walk in and catch him right then.
As for me, I clenched my fists.
My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was about to leap out of my throat.
I was waiting for his answer. It felt like I was standing trial, just waiting for the judgment to drop.
The living room lights were glaring, casting long shadows of the three of us, and the tension was icy, like the whole place had frozen over.
My mom glanced at him, then at me, her voice shaking. "You two...Are you sleeping apart now?"
To my parents, couples sleeping in separate rooms pretty much meant divorce was coming.
James didn't say anything right away.
He tightened his grip on the pillow.
Then he smiled.
It was an apologetic, sincere, gentle smile.
But that smile sent a chill straight through me, from head to toe.
"Please don't get the wrong idea," James said, his voice calm and gentle. "It's my fault.
"Emily and I had a little argument over something trivial a few days ago, and I upset her. I figured I'd sleep out here for a couple of nights to cool off and reflect, so we wouldn't end up bickering again if we were in the same bed."
He didn't leave any room for doubt.
He took all the blame on himself.
He played the part of the perfect husband, backing off just to keep the peace at home.
Sure enough, my mom's expression softened, and there was even a hint of sympathy in her eyes as she looked at him.
"Oh, James," my mom sighed as she walked over, reaching for the pillow in his hands. "Every couple argues sometimes. It's normal. Why let it get to the point where you're sleeping on the couch? Go back, it's really not a big deal."
She turned to me and chided, "Emily, James is already going out of his way for you. Why are you still upset with him?"
I stood there, feeling frozen to the core.
I'd imagined a hundred different scenarios: James storming off, telling the truth, or even confronting me right in front of my mom.
But I never saw this coming.
He effortlessly pinned all the blame on me, making me look like the childish one without even breaking a sweat.
The trick Ryan taught me was completely useless when it came to James.
I was the unreasonable wife.
He was the patient, self-sacrificing husband.
"Mom, it's not what you think..." I blurted out, desperate to explain myself.
But as soon as the words left my mouth, they sounded weak and hollow. After what James said, anything I said just sounded like I was making excuses or trying to shift the blame.
"Alright, that's enough!" my mom cut me off, shoving the pillow back into James's hands and nudging him toward the bedroom. "Go get some sleep. If there's anything to talk about, you can sort it out tomorrow."
James didn't resist, just let her guide him toward the bedroom.
As he passed by me, he slowed down for a split second.
He leaned in, his voice so low only I could hear him. "Happy now?"
His words were barely a whisper, but they hit me like an ice-cold needle straight to the heart.
I jerked my head up to look at him.
His smile was still there, steady and flawless, not a single crack in his perfect act.
But those eyes, I'll never forget them. They were like two empty pits, so deep one could drop a stone and never hear it hit the bottom.
This round, I lost, with nothing left to show for it.