A Marriage Meant for Kai

Chapter Twelve-REx

I think I finally understood.

Mian hated me.

There was no other explanation.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself.

Because how else was I supposed to explain the way he treated me?

Yesterday, I had come home exhausted.

Not just tired.

Exhausted.

The kind of exhaustion that settled deep into your bones and made even breathing feel like work.

I’d had one of the worst days at the office in months.

Meetings that went nowhere.

Problems with one of the companies.

Employees waiting for decisions I didn’t have the energy to make.

By the time I got home, I was frustrated, angry, and completely drained.

But there had been one thought keeping me going.

Maybe Mian will notice.

Maybe he’d look at me and see that something was wrong.

Maybe he’d ask.

Are you okay?

Maybe he’d sit beside me.

Maybe he’d simply care.

I didn’t need anything complicated.

I just wanted someone to notice me.

So, for the first time in months, I went to bed early.

I usually came home late.

Midnight.

Sometimes one in the morning.

But that night, I came to bed early.

Mian was already there, sitting against the headboard with his tablet.

I changed into my pajamas and sat down.

He glanced at me.

“Are you okay?”

I looked at him.

For a second, I almost told him everything.

No.

I’m exhausted.

I’m frustrated.

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.

I need somebody.

But instead, I said,

“I’m fine.”

And that was it.

Mian nodded.

“Okay.”

Then he went back to his tablet.

Just like that.

I stared at him.

Waiting.

Maybe he’d ask again.

Maybe he’d notice that I was lying.

Maybe he’d put his tablet down.

Nothing.

Minutes passed.

Nothing.

I eventually turned away from him.

And something inside me broke.

Because I knew something.

If it had been Kai…

Mian wouldn’t have stopped at okay.

If Kai had said he was fine while looking exhausted, Mian would have asked again.

He would have touched his forehead.

Asked what happened.

Asked whether he had eaten.

Asked whether someone had upset him.

He would have stayed.

He would have cared.

But me?

“I’m fine.”

And apparently that was enough.

⸻

I couldn’t stop thinking about it at work the next day.

I sat in my office staring at my computer screen without actually reading anything.

I had spent the entire morning checking my phone.

Nothing.

No message.

No,

How are you feeling today?

No,

Did you sleep well?

Nothing.

I stared at the blank screen.

Then I laughed bitterly.

What was I expecting?

A man who had spent two months barely speaking to me wasn’t suddenly going to start checking on me.

Mian had a life.

A career.

A son.

A schedule.

And apparently no space for me.

It was official.

There was no room for me in my own marriage.

And the worst part?

I knew exactly why.

Kai.

It had always been Kai.

I had known from the beginning.

Mian married me because of my son.

But somehow, I’d convinced myself that maybe something would change.

Maybe two months under the same roof would make us friends.

Maybe we’d eventually become something more than strangers.

Maybe he’d learn to care about me.

Maybe I’d become important to him.

But perhaps that was foolish.

Because I watched him with everyone else.

Mrs. Harper.

The driver.

The household staff.

He asked about their families.

He remembered birthdays.

He checked whether they were tired.

He thanked them.

He noticed things.

Mian noticed everything.

Except me.

Was it because I wasn’t Kai?

Was that the difference?

Did he hate me that much?

I couldn’t understand it.

I hadn’t expected him to love me.

I wasn’t asking for love.

I just wanted basic concern.

A text.

A question.

A conversation.

Something that told me he saw me as a person.

Not simply as Kai’s father.

Not simply as the man whose name was on his marriage certificate.

Me.

Rex.

The man who came home exhausted.

The man who sometimes needed someone.

Was that really too much to ask from my husband?

⸻

Friday came.

I left the office later than I wanted.

By the time I got home, I’d missed dinner.

Again.

I opened the front door.

The house was quiet except for the television.

I walked toward the living room.

And there they were.

Mian and Kai.

Together.

As always.

They were lying on the couch watching cartoons.

Kai was curled against Mian’s side.

Mian was laughing at something on the screen.

I stood there for a moment.

Nobody noticed me.

Then Mian finally looked up.

“Oh.”

He smiled politely.

“Good evening.”

“Good evening.”

And that was it.

He turned back to the television.

Back to Kai.

Back to their world.

I stood there.

Waiting.

Maybe he’d ask.

Did you eat?

Nothing.

Are you hungry?

Nothing.

How was work?

Nothing.

I had missed dinner.

He didn’t even notice.

Then Mrs. Harper walked toward me.

“Good evening, Mr. Sullivan.”

“Good evening.”

“Would you like me to heat up your dinner?”

I almost laughed.

It wasn’t funny.

It was heartbreaking.

I had a husband.

A husband who lived in the same house.

A husband who slept in the same bed.

And yet it was the housekeeper asking whether I had eaten.

I looked toward Mian.

He was still laughing with Kai.

He didn’t even glance at us.

“No.”

Mrs. Harper frowned slightly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

I loosened my tie.

“Can I just have some coffee?”

“Of course.”

She walked away.

I stood there for another second.

Then I turned toward the kitchen.

My stomach was painfully empty.

I was hungry.

God, I was hungry.

But somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to eat.

Because eating would mean admitting that I was alone.

And I wasn’t supposed to be alone.

I had a husband.

I had a family.

Didn’t I?

I walked into the kitchen.

Mrs. Harper prepared my coffee.

She placed it in front of me.

“Here you are, sir.”

“Thank you.”

I wrapped my hands around the cup.

The warmth felt good.

But it didn’t fix anything.

I stared down at the coffee.

And suddenly, I felt incredibly tired.

Not physically.

Emotionally.

I couldn’t do this anymore.

I couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t care.

I couldn’t keep pretending that Mian’s indifference didn’t hurt.

Because it did.

It hurt more than I wanted to admit.

I had lost my wife.

I’d spent five years carrying that grief.

I had convinced myself that I didn’t need anyone.

Then Mian walked into my life.

He married me.

He entered my home.

He became Kai’s entire world.

And somewhere along the way, I started wanting him to become mine too.

Maybe that was my mistake.

Maybe I had forgotten the terms of our marriage.

Mian had never promised to love me.

He had never promised to want me.

He had never promised to care about me.

He had only promised Kai that he would stay.

And he was keeping that promise.

Perfectly.

I looked toward the living room.

I could hear Kai laughing.

Then Mian’s soft voice.

And I realized something that made my chest ache.

Mian didn’t hate me.

That would have been easier.

He simply didn’t need me.

And somehow, that was worse.

I took one sip of my coffee.

It was bitter.

I swallowed.

Then I sat alone in the kitchen while my husband laughed with our son in the next room.

And for the first time since I married Mian, I wondered whether I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

Because I didn’t know how much longer I could live in a marriage where I was the only person hoping it would become something more.