The Transient Wife

Chapter 27

Cassandra was quiet all the way home and she didn't utter a word to him. By the time they reached home, she hastily climbed out of the car and stormed toward the house.

She must have realized she didn't have a key. He had it and so she waited as he made his way towards the door.

"You're acting like a child, Cassy," he said gently as he worked with the keys. She ignored him, looking up at the sky like it was the most beautiful thing in the world. She transferred her weight from one foot to the other, anxiously showing him how giddy she was to get away from him and enter the house and lock herself in her room.

Which she immediately did the moment the door opened.

"Cassy, come on, we have to talk about this," he called out behind her.

He sighed. "Stupid," he cursed himself.

*****

She planned to keep up with the silent war she had started the very next day. At first, Philip tried knocking on her door but to no avail until he got tired of trying or whatever that he finally stopped and was now probably busy inside his office.

Good thing though that she had some crackers inside her room and she only went out to get some water or if she really needed to take some air. But she made it sure that Philip did not see even a tiny shade of her shadow.

It was three days after that Cassandra felt like she couldn't eat another crumb of crackers. She had been too proud to even go to the kitchen and make something.

But right now, as the moon shone outside, she was just too hungry to even care. So, carefully, surely, and quietly, she opened her door and looked across the hall to see if Philip's room was still lit. It was not. He must be sleeping.

The heck! He could still sleep soundly knowing his wife was waging a silent war against him? Brushing that thought aside, she tiptoed her way down the stairs in bare foot and into the kitchen.

She opened the fridge and found some raw parts of a chicken.

"Chicken it is," she murmured under her breath. Then, she set to work. She felt like a burglar breaking into someone else's house and now she felt how they felt. Desperation and hunger must have driven people to do such ridiculous stuff, she thought.

She was absently looking at the frying chicken in the pan when her husband's voice rang out.

"That chicken's going to burn any moment," he said, his voice full of amusement.

Cassandra was so proud of herself when she did not scream in shock. Maybe, unconsciously, she knew he was there all along. Turning her head at him, she stared before looking back on her current task. And yes, he was right. Her chicken was starting to burn.

Philip was standing behind the kitchen counter that separated the kitchen from the dining area, his arms resting on the dark counter. "Still not talking to me? Come on, Cassy, this is crazy." She couldn't remember when he started calling her Cassy but it was only then that she realized it was the closest thing to an actual endearment. Babe was just out of the question.

I'm mute, I'm mute, she reminded herself. If only she could speak to him, she had loads of snide remarks to throw at his face and it would be highly gratifying to see his reaction. But no, she was mute.

"There's pasta in the fridge," he said, changing the subject.

Amazing how she missed his voice. But no, she was not talking to him at all.

"I did not make it if that's what's keeping you from eating it," he offered, knowing exactly what she was thinking. "Chanty made it and mom took it here earlier today. She looked for you but I said you were out."