Ardi trudged into his main house—the house he shared with Kirana.
It was a complete wreck. That was the only way Ardi could describe it. Ever since their relationship had fallen into chaos, Kirana had stopped keeping the house tidy. Ardi gazed at the framed photograph in the living room, where he used to lean back in a dusty chair.
Dusty, but beautiful. Kirana looked beautiful in her white dress, a veil draped over her head. His wife was smiling. A smile that, at some point, had turned harsh.
Kirana had once made Ardi hopelessly enamored. She was also the woman who had driven the nicotine from his mouth. That achievement should have been enough to keep Ardi's heart from wandering elsewhere. But it wasn't. Ardi chose to be a coward and cast off all the burdens they should have carried together.
All this chaos had begun when the distance between their mattresses grew wider. When Kirana stopped talking so much. Ardi knew what the problem was. He often told Kirana not to think about it so much. Kirana would get angry. Her eyes would turn red, followed by blows to Ardi's shoulder.
"You can tell me to calm down because you've never carried that burden alongside me. You have no idea how bitter what I've had to drink is. You have no idea what it's like to be labeled infertile!"
Kirana's hysteria fueled Ardi's anger. A fight between them became inevitable. Kirana was being too dramatic, Ardi thought. She listened too much to what other people said. But to Kirana, those words weren't merely sounds reaching her ears. Every time she heard them, they came as a whole package of cuts driven deep into her heart. They simply didn't see things the same way.
Ardi had no idea how deep the wounds had become. Not until he found psychotropic medication in their bedroom and finally realized that Kirana needed his help.
Ardi had tried. He had reached out as far as he could, but Kirana refused. Kirana's lips grew tighter. Their home grew quieter. The distance between their mattresses eventually became two separate beds in different rooms. Ardi gave up and went looking for another shoulder to lean on. It wasn't Ardi who had given up—it was Kirana who had never opened a door for him.
The sound of footsteps coming from upstairs reached them. Ardi turned, and their eyes met. They were silent for a moment before Kirana started walking again.
She passed Ardi and headed for the kitchen. Ardi rose from his seat and followed her. He opened the refrigerator, poured himself some cold mineral water, and gulped it down while standing.
"You know Kia died?"
Kirana didn't stop spreading jam on the slice of bread in her hand just because of the information he had given her.
Ardi's brows drew together. Kirana was far too apathetic about news this dramatic.
"She was murdered. You already knew?" he asked again as he sat across from Kirana.
Kirana didn't answer. She merely shrugged.
"Where were you last night?"
"Home," Kirana answered curtly.
"You were out," he accused, narrowing his eyes at Kirana as if she were a fugitive he had to keep watch over.
Kirana tossed her phone down right in front of Ardi. "Check Google Timeline."
Ardi stared at the phone for a few moments but didn't pick it up right away.
"Didn't you put a tracker on me too?"
Ardi flinched.
His expression was answer enough. Ah, Kirana clearly didn't want to spend any more time with Ardi. She decided to stand, leaving behind the slice of bread she hadn't finished. Without pushing her chair back into place, Kirana walked away from the battlefield.
"I know you were in front of Kirana's house last night."
Kirana stopped. She didn't turn around to confront him. Instead, the woman gave a faint smile—so faint that no one could truly notice it.