BLACKmail

21

My heart is cracking. Or breaking. Or shattering. They sound different but you get the gist, I'm in misery.

Seeing Juls uploading pictures and videos on her Instagram account enjoying the Bali trip with that same girl she always brought home, my heart is cracking. Breaking. Shattering.

She brought her to the place she booked for us, she took her to the locations we planned to visit, she did everything we're supposed to do together with her. Her, the who-the-fuck-she-is. Instead of me, her real girlfriend.

And do you know what's worse? When I check her Instagram account, she no longer has our pictures in it. Either she archived everything or she has deleted them, for the fact she hasn't replied any of my texts, or returned my calls. Not even a word. So what the hell is going on right now? Am I still her girlfriend?

"Are you thinking about work again?" I hear his voice at the same time a set of arms hugs my petite body from behind. I startle at the intrusion, but managed to calm myself a second later.

"Sorry," he whispers in my ears, "Didn't think you're in your world that deep." He angles his face so his nose can rub my right cheek. I keep on rinsing the plates, letting him do whatever he wishes.

But then he removes his right hand and sneaks between the opening of my shorts, as he moves his lips lower to my neck, landing them on my shoulder.

"Hey-" I stop with the plate in my hand, wanting to warn him to fucking quit whatever he's planning to do because I might break this plate if he keeps doing what I think he's about to do.

He retrieves his hand, turning me so I'd face him, "Can you stop with the hey? At least call me Gabriel. Not Hey."

I honestly haven't realised I've been calling him that. It's always Rapist in my mind.

"I seriously never thought you're a Korean because you don't look like one," Oh yeah? Should I look like a Kimbap to finally look like Korean?

"But maybe you can call me something in Korean?" He grins, totally awaiting for some kinda Sweetheart in Korean.

"Okay. Ssagaji then." I push him with my body to get to the dishwasher, wanting to put the plate in it.

"Ssagaji? What does it mean?" He's genuinely curious, though he has now distanced himself from me so I can continue doing the dishes. I return to the plates in the sink, and keep loading them into the dishwasher.

"Is it like Love? Because I know Sarang means love." Too excited for my liking, so I nod. Just to wave him off.

"Sarang. Ssagaji. Geesh you're too cute." He pecks on my cheek when I'm leaning to put the dishwasher tablet.

"In case you don't realise this," he beams in happiness when I'm already walking to the bedroom to take my shower, which he follows suit, "We're one week today, Baby."

I know. I've been in misery for one week. But it has become unbearable since the weekend to see Juls's Instagram posts, all while dealing with my Rapist twentyfour-seven.

"I know we started a bit unconventional but what matters is where we are now, right?" You're fucking delusional.

"I'm 28 this year but I plan to settle down before I'm 30. I want to be involved with the kids since the beginning, I want to run around with them while I'm still young, still have the energy, so by the time we retire they're all grown up, then we can travel the world together. Yeah we've already travelled the world but what I really mean is, to have a real vacation. Not work trips." He keeps on babbling with his ridiculous plan as I draw the bath.

Whatever Ssagaji, you can be involved with your kids however you want but I won't be in the plan. I'll be far, far away from you and your kids because Juls is the one in my future. Not you, not your kids, just me and Juls.

"How many do you want?" That's all I catch from the lengthy speech. If it's not because of his hand touching my back, I would still be lost in that never ending speech.

"Three is perfect, don't you think?"

...three what?

"Or more? I come from a big family, I have four sisters so I can take more if you want. What about you? How many siblings do you have?"

I take a deep breath remembering my mother's text message this morning, reminding me yet again to come home this Saturday for lunch because her mother from Seoul is joining. Another misery waiting to happen.

"Five." I answer as I remove my clothes while he does the same with his.

"Don't tell me you're the youngest too?!" He's beyond excited it's annoying.

"Eldest." I sit in the bathtub, submerging half my body in the warm water. Mhmmm.

"Opposite attracts," he chuckles while taking his place at the end of the bathtub. I feel his hands on my body next, pulling me so I'd rest in between his legs, just like every other nights.

"We can have five too if you want." He murmurs while placing his hand on my shoulders down to my breasts, him leaning to the tub while me to his chest. It doesn't feel awkward anymore after a week, it feels... nothing. Blank. Like a routine.

"I'm still familiarising myself with this new job so maybe we can start next year? Or you wanna get married for a year first then have a baby the year after?" I just want to get away from you.

"You're 33 this year right?" Why would you ask when you have zero tolerance to what I want. Doesn't matter I'm 33 or 35, five kids or three, I'm just a puppet.

But I'd kill myself before bringing someone else in this fucked up relationship.

"So we'll get married when you're 34. First baby 35, second 37, third 39, fourth 41, fifth-"

"No." I can't take it anymore. A baby past 40? That's funny, even if I know there won't be any even before that.

"No?" He's totally surprised with my stern answer, "No to fifth baby? Or no to... what?"

No to everything.

"It's only been one week." Is all I say, because I can't afford to provoke him.

"Alright," his voice soften, "We'll take it slow."