Wounds of Love

The soft hum of the oven ticked against the silence of the house as Sarah adjusted the candlesticks on the dining table for the third time. Today marked seven years since she said ‘I do’ on the altar to her husband, Jake Lawson. It was their seventh wedding anniversary, a milestone, and she had hope that today would be the start of a change in their lives. ‘Seven is the number of perfection, right? Everything is going to be alright from now on,’ she muttered a wishful prayer in her heart. After their marriage, Jake was the perfect husband. Doing everything, he possibly could do to make her happy. He was perfect, until he wasn’t, until he changed overnight, and a marriage that she was supposed to enjoy became something that she had to endure. Little by little, he began to drift away from her. No matter what she tried to do, no matter how many ‘Best Seller’ books that she read and practiced, hoping to save her marriage, Jake kept on drifting further and further away. For a while, she had given up on him, on their marriage, but, she knew, if she didn’t fix it, no one would do it for her. She chose this day, their seventh year anniversary, a perfect date, a Friday too, so Jake wouldn’t have the excuse of having to sleep since he had work to do the next day. She had made sure everything was perfect and to her husband’s liking. She had arranged the table carefully, paying attention to every single detail: white plates with delicate gold trim, cloth napkins folded into neat triangles, the wine glasses polished until they gleamed, the cutlery set in perfectly measured distances, she truly had gone all out. She even ironed the tablecloth, a task she despised, but she wanted tonight to feel special, it had to be the perfect night. The aroma of lemon and garlic wafted into the dining room from the kitchen, mingling with the faint scent of the lavender candles she had lit. Sarah looked at her table one more time to ensure everything was perfectly set up, then glanced up at the clock. 6:30 PM. Sarah couldn’t help but sigh. ‘He’d said he’d be home before 6,’ she muttered in her thoughts. At first, she didn’t mind that he wasn’t home before 6, just like he had promised. Afterall, she still had a few adjustments to make, but with over thirty minutes gone, she was starting feel her hope for a perfect night melt away like the wax of the candle on the table. The minutes crawled by, and as thirty minutes turned into one hour, the little hope Sara had left in her heart began to dim. By the time she heard Jake’s car pull into the driveway, the roasted vegetables had cooled, and her hands had gone clammy from wringing the edge of her apron. There was no longer excitement in her body. She couldn’t even bring herself to rush to the door to scream ‘Surprise! Happy 7th year anniversary babe’, like she had planned. She just sat at the table and waited. The door creaked open, and Jake stepped inside, a tired look plastered across his face. His tie hung loose around his neck, and his shirt was rumpled as if it had been tugged at all day. He just dropped his briefcase by the door without looking up, even though he had noticed Sarah from the side of his eyes when he had walked in. Sarah stood up and walked to the living room to at least welcome him in even though her plan for an exciting welcome was not going to happen. “You’re late,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice down so she could avoid unnecessary arguments. But her shaky voice betrayed the disappointment that she was trying to hide. Jake finally looked up at the dinner and sighed like he was about to start a routine that he was forced to participate in. “Yeah, work ran late. Sorry,” he mumbled, brushing past her and walking straight to the dining room. Sarah forced a smile, trailing behind him. “I … uh … I made your favorite—lemon herb chicken,” she said, trying to rekindle the celebrative atmosphere that she had prepared for their dinner together. “Looks good,” he said flatly, pulling out a chair. He didn’t glance at the table, didn’t notice the candles, the carefully chosen wine, or the effort she had poured into making tonight feel meaningful. He didn’t even look like he knew it was their anniversary. Jake picked up his fork and began eating without another word. He didn’t talk about work like a normal couple would. He didn’t even ask her how her day went, Nothing. He just sat and stuffed his mouth with the food she had prepared for him. His other hand reached for his phone, and the soft glow of the screen lit his face as he scrolled. Sarah silently watched him from across the table, her appetite evaporating from his behaviour, but she didn’t want to give up. “So… how was your day?” she asked, trying to initiate conversation, so their wouldn’t sound like they were at a cemetery. “Busy.” Jake replied with one word. He didn’t even bother to look up at the face of the woman he talking to, not even once. Just as they were silently at the table, a notification buzzed, and Jake’s hand moved quickly to flip the phone over, hiding the screen from view. His actions were so swift, so casual, that anyone else might have missed it. But Sarah didn’t. she had been married to him for seven years. If she didn’t know his quirks like that, what else could she have possibly known? “Must be important,” she said, her eyes fixed on the phone, with her voice light but probing. “Just … uh … It’s just work stuff,” he replied, barely looking up. Sarah wanted to say something to him, but she swallowed her words and nodded, swallowing the knot of hurt that had lodged in her throat. The lavender candles burned lower, their flames casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. The silence between them was thick, with the sound of Jake’s fork scrapping against his plate, being the only sound between them. Accepting her defeat, Sarah retreated into her shell and just ate her dinner in silence and watched him till he was done and without another word, he got up and went straight to the room. Sarah could feel her heart twisting in pain, bleeding, but she swallowed all of it. She just cleared out the dining table and went to clean up her kitchen, hoping to drown her pain with the load of chores, but that was not going to help. As she focused on scrubbing the dishes, trying to forget how terrible her night was going, she suddenly remembered something, and her hands moved automatically under the warm water. It was from last weekend—a family brunch at her parents’ house, where the atmosphere always felt as carefully curated as the food on the table. Her brother Ryan had dominated the conversation, as usual, basking in the glow of their parents’ approval. “You’ve really outdone yourself with the firm, Ryan,” their mother had said, her eyes brimming with pride every time she called his name. “An expansion into Europe? That’s impressive.” “Well thank you,” Ryan had replied with a smile. “Although, as impressive as it is, it is not without challenges,” he had added, though the smug smile on his face suggested otherwise. “But I’ve always believed in aiming high, so, I will see it through till the end” “That’s the spirit son!” their father praised him. Sarah had tried to chime in, trying to show support and not be a third wheel at a family dinner. “I think that’s great, Ryan. I’ve been thinking about starting—” Ryan cut her off with a laugh. “Starting what? A bake sale? Or another one of those craft projects you love?” Their parents chuckled politely, their gazes flickering to Sarah with faint amusement. “Ryan,” their mother said, though her tone carried no real reprimand. “Sarah keeps busy in her own way.” Busy. The word stung more than the laughter. Sarah had stared at her plate, her face burning with humiliation. She wanted to scream, to tell them she wasn’t just “playing house,” that her dreams, even though they were quieter, more delicate, were no less valid. But the words stayed locked inside her, like they always did. She never spoke back or tried to defend herself against them. Th few times she had tried that, it didn’t end well for her. Now, as she stood in her own kitchen, her reflection in the darkened window looked back at her with tired eyes. She hated how small they made her feel, hated how much their approval still mattered to her despite everything that she had achieved following their own instructions. After a few minutes, she was done with the dishes and the house was silent again. Jake had gone to bed quite a while ago, retreating behind the closed door of their bedroom. Sarah sat alone in the living room, her journal open on her lap. The pen hovered over the page, her thoughts tumbling out faster than she could organize them. She wrote about Jake, about how much she loved him, about how hard it was to watch him drift further away. She wrote about her family, about Ryan’s little insults and her parents’ indifference towards her. She glanced at the anniversary card sitting on the coffee table. It was a simple white card with a gold-embossed heart on the front. She had spent an embarrassing amount of time picking it out, but she couldn’t bring herself to give it to Jake anymore. She could already picture how he would react to it. He was just going to mutter a distracted “thanks” before shoving it under a stack of bills or magazines or the closest things he could find. Lost in the silence, brooding, Sarah kept on imagining how the night could have gone if Jake wasn’t so uninterested. They would have probably been making love right now if everything had gone to plan. It would have been the first time in almost ten months. But just as she was about to start enjoy the details of her imaginary night with her husband, a faint sound broke the silence. It was laughter, and it was coming from their bedroom, muffled but unmistakable. Sarah froze, her pen stilling mid-sentence. Jake was laughing—a sound she hadn’t heard from him in weeks, maybe months. It made her smile to know that he was smiling, but at the same time, it hurt to know that that laugh was not a laugh that he was sharing with her She stood slowly, her heartbeat quickening as she approached the closed door of their bedroom. Her hand rested lightly on the doorknob. “Jake?” she called softly and the laughter stopped abruptly. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, faintly, she heard him murmur something, too quiet for her to make out. Her hand trembled on the knob, but she didn’t turn it. Instead, she backed away, the weight of doubt settling heavily in her chest. She returned to the couch and stared at the blank page of her journal. “I hope I haven’t lost you Jake,” she muttered a prayer and closed the journal, preparing to go to bed.