FOOLS

01 : intuition.

i tried to make a home out of you.

but doors lead to trap doors. stairways lead to nothing. unknown women roam the halls at night. where do you go when you go quiet? you remind me of my father, a magician, able to exist in two places at once. in the tradition of men in my life, you come home at three am and lie to me.

what are you hiding?

the past and future merge to meet us here.

what luck. what a fucking curse.

/

IF ROSALIE had to choose what hurt the most, at the moment, was the fact that her husband was apparently convinced that she was stripped of all intelligence. that she has no idea what was going on, that she was under the impression that everything was fine, and that her marriage - her family was fine and dandy. that she didn't know her husband like the back of her hand - the hand she should probably slap the shit out of him with - and could easily know when she was being lied to.

what pained her to her last breath, was the fact that her husband had no idea rosalie knew perfectly well that she was being cheated on.

it seemed as if her name was marked as fool in his brain. he married the fool, lied down with the fool, made love to the fool, and had a foolish child to call his own.

how she'd wish that he would wake the fuck up. how she'd beg silently that he'd hear her as she listened to the whispered words he spoke to the woman on the other line at 3 am. how she prayed he caught her awake, awake and listening intently as he placed a kiss on her forehead and lifted his covers.

her, a fool? if that wasn't the funniest fucking joke.

and yet, she says nothing. she goes on with a smile on her face, she laughs as if it's the last time sound will escape her lungs. she loves harder than ever before, and pours it onto little haeran and her father. she tells herself lie after lie, until she realizes that she is almost no better than he is, and her heart breaks and disappears into almost nothing.

she also wonders, what in the world she could've done to earn such a fate.

however, she comes up with absolutely nothing.

/

he came home late. nothing new. his dinner: left on the table, and now cold. his child: tucked in her bed, finally falling asleep after almost 4 stories and 2 lullabies. his wife: wide fucking awake, the feeling of sleep never greeting her. she worried, she cried, she even got up out of her bed and visited her sleeping child, envying how little worries and cares the young child possessed. she prayed that he'd come up with a believable excuse this time.

it would've numbed the pain.

but it seems now her prayers just cease to be answered anymore. so why try?

she hears the floorboards creak as his arrival is announced, and her eyes shoot up towards the clock on her nightstand. 3:00 am. on the dot. never a minute late.

he's whispering. "yes, me too," she clenched her eyes shut, and sighs deeply.

"no, no. you need. . ." he pauses, and giggles shortly after. "rest."

ah. this was funny to him. a joke, a fun night out.

she wondered what would've happened, if she woke up and started laughing too. would his breath fall short? would his mouth start rumbling with forsaken apologies? would the woman on the other line perk up, ask who she was, and then fall silent?