A Game To Make Him Fall

Part 1

'A game to make him fall.'

When I thought of it like that, this married life for the sole purpose of having a child began to feel fun to me. How strange.

"Shall I make it seem I took a trip myself, and kill you? It seems I'll succeed almost 40% of the time."

An overseas trip I had been planning from before the marriage. On the day before, he said that.
I had no idea what forty percent was supposed to mean, but it seems he was thinking about killing me again. And once more, he confessed it to me. What a strange man.
I answered whatever felt appropriate, and the day came to a close. Early the next day, I took a large bag and descended from my second-floor bedroom to the living room. And I was surprised by who I found there.

"Morning."
"... Good morning."

He who had become my husband a few weeks ago was there, his appearance in order. I was so surprised I was at a loss for words. He gave a dangerous scowl, and asked, "Won't you be late?"
By his urgings, I headed for the parlor, and turned back.

"... See you later?"
"Hm."

The reason my line became a question was because I couldn't determine whether he had woken up early to see me off or not.
He simply nodded and didn't reciprocate my words of parting, but the words I heard before closing the door slackened my face.

"Take care."

That was all it was. But it was an important thing to me.

From before I gained awareness, I didn't have a mother. Even when she had married into a house like mine, she had died promptly after having me, so my family was my father alone. That man of work, my father, rarely returned home, and the times we ate breakfast or dinner together were few enough to count.
But even so, to the time I rose to high school, I was alright with that. Living alongside the house's helper I got along well with wasn't bad, and she who was around the age of my grandmother doted on me quite a bit.
It was a relation built on the money invested into her employment contract, but at that age, I didn't feel too strongly about that, and I depended on the fatherless 'family' given to me.
In the spring of my first high school year. She passed away.
Father said he would hire another helper around the house, but I declined. Because to me, she was family and a position that could never be replaced.
But even so, father went and hired one. I brushed them aside, but in my doing so, my father had forcefully changed my cognizance of her as, 'family' to mere 'helper' and I had lost the 'family' I had within me.

And my life alone began.

It was a house large enough for it to be painful. I took food alone, prepared alone, and went to school.
There was no one to see me off or back, and my father who'd occasionally returned wouldn't hold up a proper conversation.
If I were to die just like this, would anyone even notice I was no longer there?
That question even floated up, and floated out.
Without giving me a motivation to kill myself, mind you.

Like that, I gradually grew used to being 'alone'.

'Take care.'

The first words for my well-being I'd heard in a while.
What's more, the one who said them were my loveless husband from a few weeks ago, and the one who threatened to kill me just the other day.
I felt it amusing to the depths of my heart, and filled with a pleasant feeling.
Unable to contain it, I laughed through the taxi I'd called, and remembering his sour face as he saw me off, my head was filled with thoughts of nothing but how to make him fall.

It was a trip of a few days, and to be completely honest, the most fun I had was choosing the souvenir to give him.

And in regards to my return, his first words were as follows.