Chapter 25

Just out of the shower, there was a knock at the door.

"Open up, I forgot my keys."

He really didn't want to open the door for him.

Hadn't he stormed out? Why was he back?

Probably had nowhere to go. Coming back was good; they could discuss signing the divorce papers.

He opened the door, and there was William, holding a big plastic bag full of vegetables, grinning at Brian.

"Taking a shower? Make way, or I'll splash you."

He squeezed past, dumped the bag on the floor, and grabbed an apron.

Brian crossed his arms and glared at him coldly.

"Weren't we getting a divorce? Come sign the papers."

"What divorce? I'm not getting a divorce."

He took out some bok choy from the bag as if the argument an hour ago never happened.

"You said whoever backs down is a coward."

"I didn't say that. Don't know what you're talking about."

Playing dumb.

"Stop pretending. It was just an hour ago. Are we divorcing or not?"

"Can we, for the love of all things holy, not fight tonight? I'll make you something normal and edible. Go dry your hair; you'll catch a cold."

He pushed Brian toward the room, picked up a towel from the couch, and started drying Brian's hair.

"Wait a bit; I'll make you some porridge. It'll be ready soon. Dry your hair and put on something warm before you come out."

Brian was puzzled. An hour ago, they were at each other's throats, and now this jerk was back, acting like nothing happened and even making porridge? How novel.

"If there are bugs in the porridge, I'm not eating it."

"No bugs, just vegetables and minced meat. Your stomach isn't great; porridge will be good for you. I saw those bugs, and they were fresh and alive. I wanted to make you something exotic, but if you don't like it, we won't have it again."

He lit a cigarette, and as the smoke stung his eyes, he started cooking rice on low heat, washing vegetables, and chopping them. He marinated the minced meat and added it to the boiling water.

"Go inside; it's autumn and chilly. Put on more clothes so you don't catch a cold."

He noticed Brian was still standing at the kitchen entrance, watching him.

Brian pressed his lips together, his anger subsiding, and he turned and went back to his room.

"Jerk," he muttered.

Give him a way out, and he'll grab it. Without that, living together would be unbearable.

Back in his room, Brian lit a cigarette and smiled.

Meanwhile, William had gone downstairs, so angry he kicked the gate of the building. Just then, a purse-snatcher ran by, chased by a woman in high heels screaming "robbery!" William landed a punch that sent the thief sprawling. He took out all his frustration on the thief until the police arrived.

He was panting, not from exhaustion but from anger.

Did Brian think it was easy to find those exotic foods? He'd searched the entire market, visited several stores, just to make something different and fresh. He'd been excited for Brian to come home so they could enjoy dinner together.

What more did he want? The food was ready, waiting for him, and he wouldn't eat. It was clear what Brian wanted – a divorce.

Fine, let's divorce!

Whoever backs down is a coward. No amount of pleasing or coaxing was working. If he had a son like Brian, he'd smack him silly.

Everyone said Brian had it tough, but did they forget how few could handle his temper?

Divorce it is, then. He didn't care anymore.

He reached for a cigarette but realized he didn't have any. Angrily, he turned to go to the supermarket. As he bought a pack and opened it, he overheard two middle-aged women talking.

"My husband hates it when I use onions, ginger, and garlic in cooking. Sometimes he picks them out," one said.

"You're just too good to him," the other replied.

"Isn't it the same at your place? I heard you love spicy food, but your husband can't stomach it. Haven't you stopped eating chili for years?"

"Yeah, I can live without chili. I can't watch him suffer from stomach pain. Everyone has something they can't eat."

The women walked away.

William held the pack of cigarettes. Brian had been hospitalized for over a month with stomach issues. He couldn't eat sweets or drink coffee without his stomach acting up. What was normal for him was not for others. Who would eat scorpions?

The woman was right. Everyone had something they couldn't eat. He could eat those things because he had to during his missions. But for someone who hadn't experienced life-and-death situations, it was different.

In a relationship, there were always arguments and bickering. But no one would rush into a divorce in the heat of the moment.