Chapter 7 — From the Day I Didn't Ask

But I've been in the hospital for nearly a week, and the blanket on the bed is still the same as when I folded it before leaving. These past few days he has been sleeping on the sofa in the living room. I know, not because he was careful to keep it, but because those days he basically didn't know I wasn't home but was in the hospital. It wasn't until he saw the notice of deduction that he realized. During the first three days I didn't come home, he only sent me one message asking why I hadn't come home yet. I told him I was at my mother's house, and he texted, "Oh okay." Don't ask any more questions. If it weren't for that hospital fee deposit, you probably wouldn't have found out when I left the hospital. This thought makes my chest choke up, and it hurts more than the incision. In the afternoon, my mother cooked rice, three people sat around the dining table. He constantly picked up food for me. Looking at his appearance, my mother finally couldn't bear it anymore.

"Tell me, your wife was in the hospital for three days and you didn't know about it. Do you normally pay any attention to her at home?"

His chopsticks stopped, he looked down.

“Mom, I know I was wrong.”

"Wrong? He went to the doctor alone, got the results alone, went through the hospital admission procedures alone. What did you do?"

“Mom.” I put down my chopsticks, "Mom, stop talking, eat."

My mother was so angry that her eyes turned red: "You didn't say it? If you didn't say it, who would say it? For the past three years, I've looked at you and always worried about taking care of you. As for your child, he's fine, but in front of outsiders, he criticizes his wife."

“Mom.”

My mother was silent, but tears were falling. He sat opposite, unable to swallow the rice. That meal took place in a deadly atmosphere. That night, my mother slept in the spare bedroom, and he went to the living room to sit on the sofa. After I finished showering, I walked across the living room and he called me back.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

I stopped walking.

“What are you talking about?”

“Let's talk.”

I leaned my back against the hallway wall, looking at him. He sat on the sofa, his hands clasped together, leaning forward.

"You're right. What I said that day was because of you. But I want to know, do we still have a chance to go back to the way we were before?"

I was silent for a while.

“Which ‘before’ do you want to go back to?”

“When you were still willing to talk to me.”

"I'm still talking to you right now."

“Not like this.” He looked up, "It was like the other day, when you always smiled brightly and asked me if I had a good day today."

I looked straight into his eyes. In those eyes there was regret, confusion, and things I had never seen before. I replied: "You pushed that person away. Now I told you to look for her again, I can't find her anymore." His body seemed to have been drained of strength, and he slumped down on the sofa. I won't say anything more. Turn back to the bedroom and close the door. 10 My mother stayed to take care of me for three days and then returned. Before leaving, she pulled me into her room and whispered for half a day.

"Think carefully for yourself, if you want to continue living, you must live well. If you can't live anymore, then disband early. Don't drag yourself along, drag and drag, and wear yourself out."

I said: “I know.”

"His attitude is good these days, but I don't know if it will last long. You have to consider it yourself."

“Yes.”

“Nursing your health is the most important thing, put other things aside.”

I nodded and saw her out the door. Mom left, there were only two of us left in the house. He asked for a week off to stay home and take care of me. Every morning he does cook porridge, put medicine on the table, and when it's time to remind me to take it. He cut out bandages to replace the wound, and antiseptic cotton swabs were neatly arranged. When cooking, he will come out and ask what I want to eat. Whatever I tell you to cook, if you don't know how to do it, open your phone and look at the recipe. I sat outside in the living room and looked at his clumsy back in the kitchen. It's been three years. This is the first time he cooked rice for me continuously for a week. Before, it was all me cooking.