The Transfers

Moved in with his WHORE, thinking that his wife had NO clue, but, she’d, tracked him down, and now, he’d gotten that third strike, and, will soon be, kicked OUT of his own home!  The revenge of the wife, is soon to be, fulfilled here, translated…

The MRT Orange Route from Zhonghe to Sinchuang to Luzhou went past the stations one by one, stopped at Yong-An Market Station.

She exited, and hesitated, should she take the bus, or, a cab?

Orange Route 5 of the buses, not to save up on the commute, but because she wanted to delay getting to where she was going.

The stations ran through the display, one right after the next, and the next, and the next, the driver too, was kind enough, to remind the passengers, that the next station was the Zhongshan Road Intersection, she couldn’t delay getting off even if she’d wanted to.

She’d crossed the intersection based off of the map, turned into the alley, found that building, and, took out her cell phone, double checked the photo of the external of the building, it’s the right one.  She’d followed the delivery person in, outside the entrance, there were the scooters, and bicycles parked, somewhat, cramped, with the graffiti on the walls, the oil stains on the steps, making the apartment appeared, ancient.

Fifth floor, without the elevators, she’d felt, a bit, winded.  He’d only had the stents in his heart, and, isn’t agile enough to climb yet, how’d he get to his place?  Does he not worry at all?  In the early morning as he went out, he’d told, that he will be visiting an old friend, she’d reminded him, “don’t go get drunk, take good care of your heart.”

It’d dawned on her now, that she’d, not understood anything of him, what he was, after, really?

The long hallway with the apartment numbers one right after the next, and the next, she’d, followed the numbers down the line, and, found the number of the residence, and, the intel she bought with money, would be correct, she supposed.

The steel gate had the screens, there was a corner of the screen missing, the gray paint on the steel door a bit, chipped off, the doorbell was the older style, the rectangular kind.  She lifted her hand up, her fingers curled, she’d started, tangling with herself.  Thought, seeing how I’m already here, I need the proofs!  Maybe, it isn’t, as I’d, imagined it.

The truth is about to get bust wide open, she’d, taken a deep inhale, reminded herself, that no matter what was on the other side, she’s not, to lose her, stance.

The doorbell rang, the voices came from within, the footsteps, the click of the lock, the steel gate, pushed, mildly open, a woman’s face came.  She’d seen her over hundreds of times before, and confirmed, that it was her all right, with the flattened features, no makeup on, the sweater she was wearing already fuzzed up, with the curling hairclip behind her head.  That’s what she looked like?

“Who are you?”, the woman’s hoarse voice, with the shock that reflected from her eyes, trying to keep her stature.

Without waiting for the woman to respond, she’d pulled the steel gate open, tilted her head in, and, surely, she saw her husband there, sitting on the couch, with a child of a little over a year old on his knees, feeding him using a small bowl.

And he’d told her, that he didn’t care if they could have children or not, turned out, he already had one.  And, to think, that she’d scheduled an appointment at the fertility clinic, to try one more time for his sake.

Her husband’s face turned pale, lips started trembling, his eyes went from confused, to fear, wanted to get up, but kept, falling down on that couch, patted his chest, made the “ah!  Ah!”, the woman rushed over to him, calling his name aloud.

His name, kept lying, in the spousal column of her identification card, and now, the name got, blurted, out of another, woman’s, lips.  She’d sighed, and, held back her urges, to want to go up and look, made her hands into a fist, then, turned around, and left.

Even if she’d, played the scenes over, over, over, and over again in her mind, however, as she came face to face with the truth, she’d not gotten emotional, acted like a madwoman, started screaming hysterically, and cried, she’d acted, unimaginably, calm and collected.

Heading down the stairs, the cold wind came in from the soles of her feet, headed upward, into her heart, she’d, rubbed her hands together, covered her face, and, wiped away the tears, that came out of the corner of her eye.  She’d decided to call the cab using her cell phone.  This time, she didn’t want to take the transfers, she was fatigued, and just wanted to, rush back to her mansion with the elevators, to plan, how to, eliminate her husband, to give him his, third, strike!

And so, this is how, this woman had, acted, so calmly (it’s scary!), to confirm what she probably already knew of her husband’s cheating, and, what comes next can be, expected, this LOSER who kept a whore on the side will be paying alimony for the rest of his life, and he still has an illegitimate son to care for, and the other woman too.  Suits him right!

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Filed under Emptiness of Modern Man's Souls, Infidelities/Being Unfaithful, Life, Perspectives, Properties of Life, White Picket Fence

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