Rose



I twist the wedding ring on my finger, the weight of it is now a constant reminder of the life I’ve given up.

It’s like Senzo holds the reins, and I feel compelled to follow his every command. When did I let things get this way? Was it when I left everything behind to be with him, allowing him to control my decisions and give up my job? I’ve become a shadow of my former self, just tagging along wherever he leads. I can’t even recognise myself anymore, and I miss the days when I fell head-over-heels in love, the kind that made me lose track of time and space.

Seven months of marriage, and it feels like an eternity. My dreams of a fairy-tale romance have been shattered. Senzo and I are nothing like those movie couples. I’m struggling to understand how I reached this point where he dictates my every move, and I hate the fact that I drown my sorrows in alcohol and smoke. I despise the smell of smoke, but here I am, holding another cigarette and a glass of wine.

Does this really qualify as love?

The door creaks open, and without even looking up, I know it’s him. Senzo’s presence fills the room, an aura of money and power surrounding him, mingling with the strong scent of his cologne. “Rose,” he calls out, placing his bag on the couch. “Is that all you’ve been doing all day?”

I shrug half-heartedly, dragging on my cigarette and putting it out in the ashtray. “Maybe. It’s not like I have anything better to do now that I’m just a housewife.” Senzo rolls his eyes, his disdain making my heart ache, he heads straight to our bedroom, leaving me behind. I sink back into the couch, lighting another cigarette, and gaze out of the window. The sky is a beautiful, vivid blue.

As I look at the empty wine bottle, tears well up in my eyes. I put out yet another cigarette, finishing the last drops of wine, and clumsily let the glass slip from my hand, its echo against the carpet a reminder of my state.

I feel so tired, and sleep mercifully takes me in its embrace, giving me temporary refuge from this emotional storm.