I tiptoed to the living room and stood there in the dark. I was scared. What should I do… Do I call Henry?
My heart was in my throat. The living room was dark, and I could only see the back of the person standing. Whoever was in this apartment right now either knew the password to the door lock, or the person just guessed that the code was my birthday.
My eyes found the lamp on the display shelf. It had a heavy ceramic base that was solid enough to take someone out. I moved toward it without breathing, pulled the cord from the socket, and wrapped both hands around it.
The figure was closer than I expected. It was definitely a male because he was tall and had broad shoulders. I raised the lamp as I walked slowly towards the person, but not too close.
Just then, the figure turned quickly. “What are you—”
I paused. That voice seemed familiar. It was a voice I could recognise even in my sleep. I slowly lowered my arms and ran toward the light switch and turned it on.
It was Henry. He stood in the middle of our living room in a rumpled suit, tie loose, hair slightly out of place — squinting against the brightness with his eyes moving from the lamp in my hands to my face.
“Quinn.” His voice was calm. “Why are you holding a lamp… and why are you not sleeping?”
I looked down. The cord was still dangling when I set it down. “You said you were staying at a hotel. So I thought th–”
“I changed my mind,” he said as he made his way nonchalantly to the kitchen.
“You should have told me, then.”
“I should have?” he now turned to me.
“Yes.” We stood there looking at each other. This was the closest we had been in weeks. We were so close that I could see he was actually tired. I looked away to stop myself from noticing. “Why did you come back?” I asked in a calmer tone.
“Because I live here,” he said as he opened the pot on the cooker. It was the empty pot of the fried rice I had earlier made for myself.
“Is there no food?” he asked as he kept staring at the empty pot.
He had never asked before. When he came back late, he either hadn't eaten or had already eaten out with his crew.
He now closed the empty pot and reached for a cabinet. He rummaged through it for a while until he reached for a pack of noodles. He swiftly moved back to the stove to turn it on.
“Uhm… oh– pot…,” he reached out to two cabinets before finding the cabinet for the pot. I watched him closely. This was a new experience for me. He looked confused.
I now moved towards him. “There’s little rice left in the rice cooker. I could mix up fried rice for you with the remaining ingredients from the one I made earlier.” he looked at me. I now wondered whether I shouldn’t have made the suggestion.
“Thanks. I'm going to take a shower.” he moved away from me to the bedroom.
What just happened… is he drunk…? This is really weird. My thoughts were disorganised. But I hurriedly prepared the food and served it at the dining table. In a few minutes, he was out of the bathroom. His hair was dripping with water, trailing down his neck and onto his shoulders as he walked towards the dining room in shorts.
I told myself to look away, but I couldn’t. My eyes moved on their own, and I felt my face grow warm. He walked toward the dining area and sat down to eat. I tried to control myself, so I gripped the edge of the table and sat opposite him.
He sat down and ate calmly. I sat there remembering when we were still in college. He never ate alone; he would always tell me to sit with him in the canteen or watch him eat even after I had eaten.
He ate so quickly and moved the plate to the kitchen. I was still deep in thought when he snapped me out of it. “Aren’t you sleeping?”
“I… yes, erm… I will…” I stood up, turned off the lights and went to the bedroom. He was already sitting on the bed with his back against the bed frame. What was he doing here? He always slept in the other room. He even put a bigger bed there. “Are you sleeping here?” I asked.
“Yes," he said without looking towards me.
We only slept together a few times during the first month of our marriage. This is strange. What kind of awakening did he get? I lay on the bed, but he was so close to me. He was reading a script from the iPad.
Just before I could arrange my thoughts, he moved his hands towards me as if to touch my face. I was in shock. I held my breath and closed my eyes.