A lonesome pearl escapes from the corner of her eye. She packs her belongings neatly in a four by four cardboard box.
I realize now how much of an apathetic man I have been. She possesses fewer clothes than a monk. The wedding band, a platinum ring sits on the nightstand. She picks it up, along with our photograph from the altar. Her loving gaze dwindles in favor of indifference. She lays the picture frame top down, the wedding ring on top of it.
"I am going away for a week. I expect you to have moved when I come back. Take the furniture. In fact, take everything but the walls".
She does not face me. She carcasses the window seal and greets the vines climbing up our bedroom walls.
"Zoya", I say and hope she hears me.
Often times I speak but, the words do not come out. My vocal cords are mute and my ears are ringing a deafening noise.
She hears me. Just for a moment, her brows pucker. I have seen no response from her even since the wooed day I betrayed my Zoya.
25