Disclaimer: So this is a one shot story adapted from an old romantic story that has been circulating around the internet for about 10 years. It was told to originate and has gain popularity in Asia in the early days. I first read it in my language when a friend posted it on Facebook a few years ago, and I recently found an English version of it. I don’t know about you, but this story made me cry. The scenario was quite real and didn’t seem so be far-fetching to me at all. Though, I tried to tweak it so that it seems more realistically plausible and logical than the original story. The original one can be found here, http://www.snopes.com/glurge/carry.asp
Edit: This article is pretty good if you're interested. I'm too lazy to summarize this, here's an excerpt "Many marriages that begin full of interconnection between bride and groom do over the course of years devolve into the humdrum of routine.Couples can and do grow apart as work schedules, family commitments, and financial concerns conspire to transform what were loving and involved relationships between two intimates into what at times seems little more than business arrangements between almost-strangers. The magic that had brought the two together slowly dissipates if care is not taken to maintain the underlying intimacy and friendship that is the bond of a successful marriage."
Sorry for the long intro and thank you so much for reviewing in advance!
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Carried Away
“Kagome, you’ve been so quiet and glum lately. What’s wrong?” Sesshoumaru asked, concern engraving his deep voice.
“Nothing really… Annoying students’ been getting on my nerve lately… Work problems, so I easily got tired and frustrated,” she answered, her soft voice droning as she added a pout.
He sighed, “Make sure to take your meds and check back with the doctor soon.”
Her chest tightened painfully as she silently observed the cool expression on her dear husband’s handsome face. Keeping her emotion in check, Kagome trailed off toward the bathroom. She wasn’t entirely sure when their silent cold war had started. Pointless chatter became obligatory and pretentious. Alone behind the shut door, she wanted to scream, to cry and kick him over and over. But all she could do was helplessly watching her own reflection as quiet sobs wracked though her trembling form. She looked like absolute shit, saggy sleepless face and hollowed eyes.
That cold, calm look on his face, she knew… Her persistent depression was wearing his patience thin. She was obviously not improving and there was nothing he could do that would help. And her problem just kept infecting their relationship, corrupting it as it metastasized.
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“Hey, welcome back. How was work?” his wife, with bushy hair and bed face, greeted him from her lounging position on the couch.
“Same,” he curtly replied knowing that saying too much would probably give himself away.
Kagome sauntered toward the kitchen, “If you have already eaten, still have some crab soup anyway. It’s yummy.” She popped the bowl into the microwave, “Also, Sesshoumaru? I have something to tell you later.”
“Oh thanks, I will eat it after shower,” he replied before gurgling down gulps of cold water. Putting the cup down on the kitchen table, he turned to see a rigid Kagome standing nearby, looking at him stricken. It was then he knew that she probably was no longer ignorant of his treachery.
Her deep brown eyes boring holes into his golden ones and she commented coolly in disgust, “Smell like women perfume.”
He watched guiltily in silence as her tense hand let the soup bowl clattered loudly against the granite marble of the kitchen counter and she brushed pass him in a heartbeat. Nothing else to say…
“Didn’t you want to tell me something?” He asked anyway, testing his luck.
“Nah, forget it. It’s nothing important,” her voice harsh and indifferent, and she disappeared up the staircases.
He saw the anger swirling dangerously in her dark chocolate eyes. The perfume of another irked her, right? Yet, why didn’t she confront him? And what was it that she wanted to tell him?
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……..
“Was your headache getting better?” he asked in a tone she wasn’t sure if he really cared.
“Yeah, the new pill helps a lot,” Kagome responded, watching her husband setting his suitcase onto the coffee table. She watched him fishing out a large golden envelope and waited patiently. She already knew what it was.
“Kagome, I… I really hope you would understand…. I’d like to have your consent,” he asked, sounding slightly intimidated and guilty. She disliked the hesitation in his stuttering voice so much. It didn’t suit him.
“I know, it should be fine,” eyes tired and her pretty face wary, she interrupted him softly, gathering any remaining shreds of courage within her body.
He placed the envelope in between them, the title Divorce Paper boldly printed on the front.
“I’m really sorry,” he confessed gently.
“No, I’m sorry I couldn’t have been a better wife for you… I couldn’t make you happy like I should have” she managed to verbalize the broken words between restrained sobs.
He shook his head then, silently pleading for forgiveness, “You can have this house and half my shares in the company.”
No… she cared for none of that stuff. The kind of happiness that she wanted was something that even he would never have enough power to give. She knew it was selfish of her to ask him such a strange and disturbing favor. But she just couldn’t help it. This was her last chance. It was either now or never.
“Will you do one last thing for me?”
“Yes,” his deep soothing voice was firm and beautiful.
“During the few months of the divorcing process… can you carry me to bed at night whenever you’re home?” she requested, meekly looking down at the wooden table in front of her. “I meant, you can sleep with whomever or wherever you want, but… can you just put me to bed the way you did on our wedding night whenever you get a chance to be home?”
She looked up at him then. The silence after her spoken words felt like eternity. He nodded. The strangeness of the thought left him confused.
………………….
He didn’t know if it was her haunting red eyes or her small feminine form that stir such strong, unbidden feeling within him. But here he was.
The first night he carried her to bed, it was quite clumsy and comical, because it had been so long since they last did anything so romantically cheesy. So that went awkwardly.
The second night, he began to remember how beautifully she had fitted in his arms in her white flowy chiffon gown. It dawned on him that the past few months of their marriage had severely lacked intimacy. But then again, he was out there planting young love half of that time already.
After the first few times he carried Kagome, he noticed how much stronger he had gotten for she seemed lighter. It was rather an effortless routine now. He never stayed long, touches never lingered, since it was clear in the beginning that this was all she required of him. This was their contract.
And then, almost every night, her slender arms would circle around his neck, her head rested on his chest as he silently carried her to bed in bridal style. The shame and the guilt were slowly eating him. Being close to her again, watching her long eyelashes fluttered, feeling her beating heart so close to him stirred indescribable feeling inside his chest.
He noticed how her hair had gotten longer. Her facial features no longer held that bright and mischievous look. It hit him painfully how this whole ordeal must have been hurting her. He saw her brave façade slipping a little bit every day. And yet, she never really talked to him at all.
He realized then, it wasn’t his arms that had gotten stronger, but it was Kagome who had gotten much skinnier. And his heart burned. All previous resentment on his dull and depressed wife disappeared, replaced by this slow gut-wrenching pain in the pit of his stomach. It was his entire fault that he had neglected the details in their marriage life… that her health condition had gotten worse.
………………..
Sesshoumaru pecked Kagome on the forehead affectionately and awkwardly. He decided to sleep next to her, in their bed that night. She was still dead quiet as always. They barely ever talked. Though, perhaps tomorrow, or the day after that, it would be natural again to sleep with her cuddled in his arms, to go back the way things once were.
The next day, he drove to his girlfriend’s place after work. With mind unclouded and decision made, he told the woman of his affair that he would like to continue his marriage. And so they broke up.
He stopped by the florist, bought a large bundle of colorful peonies. He also picked out a dark chocolate and strawberry cake from the most expensive bakery in town. Sesshoumaru, for the first time in a long time, allowed himself a smile of satisfaction. He was sure she would be ecstatic at the sight of her favorite cake. He would apologize tonight and everything would be sunshine and sweet again.
The lock turned and Sesshoumaru stepped in with much anticipation. He looked around the lightless house and Kagome was nowhere to be found. Fear stole his heart as he looked at the golden manila envelope on the coffee table. With a quick tear, the rough binding fell loose, revealing a white page on top…. neatly signed with his wife’s signature. Not believing himself, he flipped through the rest of the stack of documents. He spotted her shaky signatures. His heart was lodged within his throat, the strangely steady thumping threatened to jump out of his rib cage.
Shuffling for a few more seconds, he found a hand-written letter:
“Dear,
It just arrived in the post this morning, so I proceeded to finish my part of the deal. Thank you so much for being understanding and patient with me during the past few weeks. It made me feel young and loved again, and I really appreciated it. I already booked a tour in Europe. Gods, I’m so excited for this trip, I have wanted to go there. I will be sending postcards to you all.
See you in a few months.
Love, Kagome.”
And just like that, he kept the letter on his desk in his office, crumpled and cursed. The signed divorce documents already shoved away in one of the drawers. In the post scriptum, she asked him to keep her boxed belongings in storage, but he began to unpack them instead, putting her items back to where they were the night before. He really wanted to fly over there, to find her and accompany her. But he thought that perhaps, this trip would help her find herself again, ease her mind and cure her on-going depression. And time would probably help her forgive him.
………………………
Her first postcard was exclusive with an attachment of her own picture at a scene in the Palace of Versailles. She was wearing a knitted hat and navy petticoat, her wavy hair down and her vibrant face smiling contently.
Her second postcard was a picture of her posing in front of the Colosseum in Rome. She looked really skinny and he regretted not being able to see her face up-close, since the photographer obviously tried to capture Kagome within the whole architecture. And Sesshoumaru worried.
In the third one, which was sent a few months after, she was munching on a sandwich as she trailed along Charles Bridge in Prague. She wasn’t looking at the camera, but he could see side of her face. And he didn’t like the sharpness of her cheekbone at all. Something wasn’t right.
It’s been six months, and he missed her so much. He woke up, worked, ate, showered and went to bed, thinking of her. It had become a routine for him to take out the cards and look at her for hours on end. What had taken her so long? Just go back already.
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Bzz………….
Bzz…. Bzzz…… Lazily reaching for his phone, Sesshoumaru noticed the caller ID. It was Souta, Kagome’s little brother. Golden eyes widened in surprise.
“Hello, Souta. What’s up?”
“Kagome is back. I was wondering if you might want to see her,” the younger man sounded just like the way he was when Sesshoumaru last spoke to him. Though, his tone and voice was somewhat much more matured and foreign.
“Oh really? Thanks, I will be heading over,” he replied.
And they hung up.
……………………..
The 86 stone steps to the shrine was nothing comparing to the torturous six months of waiting. His eager anticipation was somehow dampened by an uncertain forebodingness. Sesshoumaru was at the front door of the Higurashi’s house in minutes.
“Hi,” he stepped in, noticing how the grandpa and her mom was nowhere in sight...
Looking around, he spotted a framed picture of Kagome in the middle of the main table. She was smiling very gently and it was cute and beautiful beyond words. But there was something amiss about it. The picture was pale, blue-ish in color, and only captured her portray from the shoulder up.
A sudden breeze of air hit him cold, leaving him shivered and lost. He oddly looked back at the picture that was strangely propped up in the middle of the table.
He heard sobs and his mother-in-law emerged into the living room.
“What’s wrong? Where is she?” He asked as anxiety and fear gripped his guts, drawing blood, his voice frantic.
The woman wasn’t even able to formulate words. It was useless asking her.
Souta placed a round blue jar, the size of Kagome’s largest and heaviest tea mug, onto the table, and he uttered, “Here.” ….It looked oddly like an urn.
His world ceased to spin.
“What? Why?” Sesshoumaru was so lost and they were scaring the shit out of him. You got to be kidding me.
Angry eyebrows furrowed, “She’s gone, Sesshoumaru-nee. We thought you knew,” the young man began to look at his brother-in-law, confusion evident on his face.
Silence…….
“She has glioblastoma multiforme, they said. It’s a brain tumor known to come and go really fast. She had little time to have it treated,” Souta explained, tears was rimming his eyes then. He watched the frozen Sesshoumaru standing as if struck by lightning.
“She told us she wanted to travel by herself before the light knock her out. She told us you knew about it. She told us you were accompanying her. She told us she had you by her side. She told us to be happy for her. She told us to accept it and let her go. She told us….” His voice broke off as the tears caught up in his nasal. It was then his confusion was cleared up: her remaining was sent back to them by mail, not because Sesshoumaru already left Europe, but because she was alone the entire time. His stormy black eyes looked up accusingly at his brother-in-law.
“That’s not true. Kagome’s not dead. I just received her postcard from King Cross Station the other day. What are you talking about” the older man spoke after a long while. His voice loud and deep as he coldly looked at Souta.
Sesshoumaru didn’t know what to think anymore, his brain couldn’t function properly. It was just so sudden and unbelievable. His beloved wife couldn’t have been dead. He had so much planned ahead for the both of them. When she came back, he was going to let her know how much he loved her. Then they would have children the year after. They would grow old together… So much…
She was probably just being naughty and trolling everyone. But she would eventually go back to him, to their home, to his arms, soon… because she had to. Dammit.
He eyed the brother and the weeping mother with an icy, foreign look, before turning on his heels to go back to his home.
Their home…
Kagome, where are you? Come back already….
…………
And so, Sesshoumaru waited. It was months and months of anxious and restless waiting. He received a few more postcards from her for the following months. And he would laugh, reassuring himself, see? She will be back, healthy and happy. She could be back anytime now. He would go on for days without sleep or proper food only to be knocked out naturally. Each continuing day was torturing.
It was getting cold again, almost a year since she’d left. His fear of that possible reality simmering within his subconscious started to resurface at high intensity. He couldn’t go to work for the past weeks. He just sat at home, imagining her presence, and waiting for the mailman.
He received another postcard that day. His hand shook as he fumbled to find the writing.
“I hope all went well for you and your new family. But yeah, I won’t be seeing you again. It’s so pretty here that I think I will just settle here. Love, Kagome” was all it read.
His chest constricted painfully. His throat clogged and his nose stung as he flipped to the other side of the piece to see a sadly smiling Kagome sitting on a bench. Her eye sockets were hollow, her skin pale as snow, her cheek bones sharp and tall, and her beautiful hair was then short and frayed. And he remembered,
…
“Ah, these freaking headaches!”
…
“Kagome, take your meds.”
…
“….The doc said I have depression.”
…
“Leave me alone Sesshoumaru, it’s just another fucking migraine.”
…
“…Sesshoumaru, I have something to tell you later.”
“Nah, forget it. It’s nothing important,”
…
“…Will you carry me to bed?”
…
She has gotten so much skinnier…
…
“Thank you, Sesshoumaru.”
…
Boiling hot liquid spilled down his cheeks then. He collapsed onto his knees, clutching the postcard tightly in his palm. His chest hurt so much he could barely breathe. He began to hit his head onto the nearby wall. Each blow was slow and deliberate. He mumbled incoherent sentences to himself. No, I don’t have a new wife. You were all what I have ever wanted and ever needed… Please… I’m sorry for hurting you… stop doing this…. Please, just come back to me…
How terrible it must have been for her to live her last days by herself, thinking that she was unwanted, thinking that he was happy with another… My Gods….. A fire heavy and hot twisted and burnt within his chest. And why was he not by her side when was fighting tooth and nail with the cursed tumor?
Gone, she was really gone this time.
He recalled the last time he had seen her, it was that fateful morning when he drove to work and the paper from the court came. He tried to remember when they last kissed, only to find that pathetic excuse of a peck on her forehead that night. Nothing else... No intimacy… All evidence of their love was such a distant past.
His face contorted, his sobs grew louder and incontrollable in pattern as the remaining of his heart slowly chipped away.
He really, really wanted to see her. This was probably some kind of sick sadistic joke to punish him. Perhaps he should wait a little bit more.
…………..
A few weeks later, there was a single gunshot heard in the luxury neighborhood. An ambulance and some police cars began to crowd and wail in front of the grand mansion. They found a partially-eaten chocolate cake surrounded by a bunch of wine bottles on the coffee table. The place smelled awful.
And the cake had been expired for more than a year.