My Forever

DANIEL

The smell of cigarettes dampens my already cross mood when I get onto the bus.

One look at her face and I forgot that it wasn’t my business anymore what she does or doesn’t do. I lost all my rights to her when I signed those papers.

But are those papers so strong they can erase everything we’ve shared? We shared twelve years of our lives; doesn’t that mean anything?

Twelve beautiful years—which consist of our childhood and two blissful years of marriage. Then everything came to an end just like that.

My eyes land on her, and my heart aches to see the pain in her eyes as she stares at her phone.

My lips part and I draw in a sharp breath when a single tear rolls down her cheek, causing me to clench my hands in tight fists. I force myself to remove my gaze from her face and sit in my seat.

Why do I still feel I have every reason to care about her when, in reality, there’s nothing left?

The familiar sound of wheezing and coughing reaches my ear, immediately alerting me. Snapping my head back to check on her, I find her struggling to breathe as she frantically searches for her asthma pump in that goddamn bag.

How many times have I told her to keep her inhaler always with her, in her pocket or some other place where she can instantly find it? The stubborn woman never listens to me.

Like always, she’s keeping it in her bag, which is just like the Bermuda Triangle. Everything that goes inside it gets lost.

Out of habit, I start patting my pocket for her inhaler, but soon remember that I no longer need to carry one. I guess one year can’t change a habit of twelve years.

I half stand up from my seat, ready to help her look for her inhaler, when she retrieves it from the same pocket she’s already searched twice.

She removes the cap, gives the inhaler a quick shake, and pumps it a few times into her mouth. Closing her eyes, she tilts her head back and slowly inhales and exhales.

After a few moments, her breathing becomes normal, and mine too along with hers.

Her asthma attacks always scared me, no matter how minor.

The older woman sitting beside her rubs her arm soothingly, then offers Irene her water bottle, which she declines rather too quickly, though still with a polite smile on her face.

My lips lift in a smile. I remember how she is when it comes to sharing food or drink with others.

She would rather die of thirst than drink water from someone else’s glass or bottle. She has this weird idea in her mind that their saliva might be present in it.

I still remember clearly how I convinced her it was okay to have food from my plate or have a drink from my glass. After all, we’d already shared saliva with each other every chance we got.

That earned me a slap from her, but still, she got my point.

Blinking back, I notice I’ve zoned out and find her watching me. She doesn’t avert her gaze, as if she’s challenging me to look away first.

But she knows me. I never back down from any challenge, so why would I let her win this one so easily?

Never letting my gaze waver from hers, I watch her expression shift slightly before she blinks and turns away with a defeated look.

Facing forward again, I run my fingers through my hair and lean my head back on the seat.

What happened to her? She wasn’t one to give up without a fight. Never once have I ever seen a defeated expression on her face. It’s almost like she’s lost the desire to fight.

The bus comes to a halt, and the passengers begin to disembark, including me, to carry on with the rest of their journey on their own. Cabs are standing in the waiting area as passengers from different buses move to hire them.

Shifting the hold on my bag, I wait for Irene to come down, then watch her help a fellow passenger get off the bus. After saying goodbye to the woman, Irene makes her way toward the cab stand.

I quickly fall into step with her, but she barely pays attention as she busily types something into her phone.

I stop her as she takes a step toward a cab. “I have a car waiting. I can give you a lift home since we’re both going in the same direction.”

“Thank you for the offer, but this is where our journey together ends and we walk our separate paths.” Her tone is impassive, just like her eyes.

Glancing at me momentarily, she gets inside the cab.