Sneek Peak~~Chapter 3

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It was widely accepted that Mika would choose one of us as his partner.  What a surprise when he chose me.  Little old dumpy me who caused Tiresa no end of grief with my lack of fashion sense (“You can’t wear red with pink—it’s not Valentine’s Day!”).  Me, whom no one ever noticed when Tiresa was around, which was all the time.  Sure, Mika and I were compatible in the way we thought.  In fact, we were a very good match in that respect.  He had ideas; I knew how to execute them.  But based on looks, anyone would have guessed he’d pick Tiresa.  A gorgeous wife on the arm of a successful lawyer would have been the icing on the cake.  A curvaceous, delectable, Tiresa-shaped cake, not the bulging apple pie which was me.

Dropping out of school after one year and marrying Mika after he graduated and started law school seemed as natural as breathing.  It was an extension of the role I had already assumed.  When I wasn’t writing speeches and papers and articles for the law school journal and doing research for Mika, I cooked and cleaned for him, did his laundry and ran his errands.  And as his wife, I had the right to expect him in bed.  Or so I thought.

Fi was barely two weeks old; I struggled with postpartum depression.  It was so bad that Mama Rose had taken Abe for a few days just to give me a little break.  I felt like I was hurtling through the abyss of nothingness.  The doctor prescribed me some pills but warned me that I had to stop breastfeeding so Fi wouldn’t be affected.  So much for losing all my pregnancy weight the easy way.  Breastfeeding burned calories like nobody’s business.  I’d lost all of my pregnancy weight with Abe that way, but by that time I was already two stone overweight.  Now I had two more stone on top of that to lose.  Or not to lose.  I just didn’t care.

Fi was sleeping in her bassinet and I was staring at the TV, which was turned off, when Mika got home from work that Monday evening.  I heard his car pull up, heard the car door open and slam shut; heard the side door open and close; footsteps on the new wood floor.  Then he was standing in between the TV and me.

“I don’t love you any more.  I know you have this postpartum depression thing but it’s not that.  You’re not the woman I married and I haven’t been happy for a long time.  Tiresa and I have been seeing each other for a few months and she wants to move in, so you’ll need to pack your things and be out by the end of the week.  I’ll support the kids, of course.”

He wasn’t remorseful. He made the decision without giving me a choice, without discussing our relationship to see if it was salvageable. I probably could have forgiven him, but he wanted her.  I was not enough for him.  

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