Babysitter Cougar [COMPLETE]

Chapter 28 page 2 - Marriage Wreck

I confess that this year has been hard for the both of us to maintain our sanity, and to raise Saloma in this environment just adds to the burden. My postpartum depression hasn't emaciated while Saint's anxiety over losing his guardianship rights to Saloma causes the foundation to our marriage becomes dysfunctional.

Although Saint's being helpful with the baby, he lacks passion for me. He ridicules my inability to cope with my depression, saying that I'm not as strong as Sabina and I often elevate small problems to gain attention. We go hard on each other until it sickens us to deal with each other's erratic emotion that we even sleep in separate rooms. Our altercations become more frequent that we don't bother patching things up and we are becoming more distant each week.

This home is no longer mine, I'm just an unpaid servant who has no rights in this house and to protest would cause me to be locked in the room the whole day without meals as penance. All my rights are given to our five-month-old baby as he spoils her with unnecessary things like well-balanced nutrition, the finest motor skill equipment and plush toys, while I keep the house for peanuts!

As my depression becomes grievous with each passing month by Saint's inattentiveness, I realised that I need to get help. But it's such a dilemma for me to ask for help from anyone at this point. I don't think his act counts as domestic violence; I wasn't roughed up. Saint never laid hands on me. How can I get help? And to whom I should turn to when I have no one but him and Sabina? I don't want my mother-in-law to be involved in this mess because I'm sure she'll take his side no matter what.

I can't cage my expressive self by this ridiculous house ruling. When Saint doesn't help too much with my situation, I have to take in charge again and be heard to get help. I sneak into the study during Saint and Saloma's naptime, settling myself in front of his iMac before key in the macOS login password that I stealthily retrieved from his passbook: $@LoM4.

I log into my Facebook account and hit the Facebook status bar to thrash out my unrelenting antipathy on Mom's death and Saint's hostility in a long winding composition before I click the 'share' button. I wait for several minutes to see my friends starting to react to my status. Some send out likes, heart shape and sad emoticons in response, while some comment, offer advice and help.

When Raz, a former campus senior asks about my condition via the messenger, I hold my breath with slight exhilaration. Although I no longer have any feelings for him, I'm glad that he's the first tourniquet to my bleeding heart.

I hover the cursor to the text bar and reply:

Me : Peace upon you too, Raz. I'm good so far. How's things with you?

Razlan : I'm okay. But you don't sound so good yourself.

Me : I'm trying to be okay but I don't know how long I'd be this way.

Razlan : I'm sorry about your mom, I know it's been tough for you this year. And your husband isn't doing his part to ease out the situation.

Me : Precisely, my point! I tried to accommodate his every need, but he can't seem to be bothered with mine.

Razlan : I'm working with Sharia Judiciary Department. If I can be of any help to your situation, I'd be glad to assist.

As our conversation grows spritely, I become oblivious to the heavy footfall coming from the hallway that gets louder in every step. Saint pops his head by the door frame for inspection and his anger spikes when he catches me behind his macOS unsupervised.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he thunders.

Thank you for reaching this far. I appreciate it  so much! 🥰

A couple of more chapters to go before you're reaching the end.

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Photo source : (Cover photo) Masha Raymers, (Inline photo) RODNAE Productions both from Pexels