"You bloody thief! You stole my money when I said I wasn't going to give you any." Raymond's father roared.
Roselle's face was different. She was red with embarrassment and her mouth dropped open. She walked up to her husband and threw her hands across his face, her five fingers leaving imprints on his face. rubbed it and endured the pain. That was something he was used to.
"You son of a bitch," she cried, "how dare you humiliate me in this way? After everything I'd done for you, you chose to steal from my father." Before he could recover from what she had said, another slap came running in, harder and hotter than the rest. "I want a divorce."
Tears clouded his eyes. "You can't do this, Roselle. After everything we've been through? I promise you that I didn't steal the money."
"Finally, my daughter's senses have been restored. Divorce him I will support you with a lawyer and finances." Roselle father smiled.
Roselle turned to Raymond. "It's not about the money. I hate you, I want you out of my life. You are nothing but a liability." She turned away, got in her car, and drove away.
Mr. Devon turned to Raymond after Roselle left. "Raymond, where is my money?"
"I swear I am not with your money."
He came around and searched Raymond's pockets, checking everywhere his hands could lay on. He dipped his hands but couldn't find anything. He tried again but nothing. "Where the fuck did you hide the money?"
"I told you, I don't have your money with me. I can be anything but a thief. I can be a poor, unfulfilled, unsuccessful man but I'll never steal from anyone. It's sad to think that my wife doesn't believe me." his voice was on the verge of breaking, but he held still.
"This is what a poor man would always say to cover his tracks. We all know your schemes."
He was about to strike him a blow when a small child ran to the scene. On his hand held a wad of cash. "Papa," he said, "I found this money on the couch in the sitting room. I don't know if it's the money you're looking for before, but it was seen on your favorite couch."
"Oh, my son, you can keep the money." He gave Raymond a look and walked out.
When he got home, he saw Roselle seated on a couch. "Roselle, please tell me you didn't mean what you said back there."
"You heard me. I want a divorce. I know you didn't take the money, but I no longer want to be with you. Prepare my bath."
"Will you reconsider the divorce if I do that?" Raymond asked.
"Maybe."
.
He turned on the water in the tub and added the amount of soap she liked using in the bath. When he was done, he quietly left the bathroom to alert her that it was ready.
A few steps out of the bathroom, you called softly, "Roselle, the bath—"
He stopped when he heard her in a conversation with someone. He didn't want to listen as it wasn't his business, but he wanted to know more about the woman he called his wife.
"I know, I know, my love," she said to the caller on the phone. Being distant, he couldn't hear the caller's voice. Just hers.
"Raymond? He's so dumb, how will he find out? And I've warned him to stay out of my business, so I know he won't be snooping in. Plus, you know I have an upper hand so he can't even say a word here."
He tried to gasp but covered his mouth immediately.
"You missed me? When do we meet?"
"Okay. Where?"
"Yes, yes. Six, yes? I'll do that." She laughed into the phone, twisting her curly, blonde hair.
His heart beat hard. What he feared was actually coming true. His wife was cheating on him; she had been cheating on him. But what he didn't know was who the person was.
He needed to find out.
"Raymond!" Roselle yelled.
He ran back to the bathroom, pretending that he was still preparing the bath. "Yes, Roselle."
"Are you done?" she called.
'Yes. Almost. You can come now." He made a clattering water noise.
She stood up from the couch and undressed herself. He could see her naked, but he didn't dare touch her. How he longed to hold those breasts he once suckled and grabbed onto, the hips he once rocked. His heart ached, but he couldn't do anything. According to her, she had the upper hand.
She sank herself inside the tub and he watched her. He knew where she was going and he knew one thing: that he would be right behind her.
She got into her car and drove off and he followed her tail.
He saw her walk into the bar so he followed. He watched as she kissed a man and took a seat beside him. His heart humped. Anger stirred inside of him. He got up and walked down to Roselle and whoever the guy was. He had to. They were both married. He walked up to the guy and shoved him, making them both separate. It was…
"Raymond, what the fuck are you doing?"
His eyebrows knitted. "Pete, what are you doing with my wife? Pete! I never expected my wife's partner to be you." With anger, he threw him a punch in the face and his mouth bled.
Roselle took his hands away from Pete. "Raymond, how dare you barge into our personal lives and dictate what happens to us?"
That time, it was his turn to wag your finger. "Roselle, we are married. Why are you doing this?"
She snorted. "Well, I clearly asked for a divorce."
"You said you'll think about it," Raymond retorted.
"Well, I did, and I don't want to be married to you any longer."
"Why?"
"Do you provide for her? Do you give her gifts? What exactly do you do for the person you call your wife? What?" Pete jumped in.
Roselle nodded. "Your friend is better than you, yes. You're just an errand boy. Do you think what we had is called marriage?"
"We can always work it out, my love. We can." He, too, was not assured of what he was saying, but he had a fragment of hope that something good may happen.
"Shut up, Raymond. I lent you money to get your wife gifts but you ended it up in a casino." Pete smirked at the end of his statement, his bloodied lips forming a coy smile.
Raymond lost control and the next place he saw his hand was on his face, punching him again and this time, he retaliated. They fought each other and threw themselves on the floor, breaking bottles wherever their bodies went he felt a surge of pain in his cheek and his abdomen.
Roselle opened her bags and brought out the papers. She flung them in front of Raymond, squeezing her face. "It's official, Raymond. We are divorced. I've signed mine and I want you to sign yours." Then, she walked out of the bar with Pete in her hands.
Raymond, dejected, walked out of the bar. Getting out, he saw the fleet of cars. Helicopters hovered around the building. Men dressed in black tuxedo and black glasses stepped out and stood tall. One looked around and saw him looking at them. He nodded and walked up to him. His heart escalated and he wondered what problem he had gotten into.
He was a few centimeters away from him and sweat trickled down his armpits. He feared a punch or an arrest, but when he came close to he, he bowed down. The other men followed suit and prostrated like he was a king.
"Master," the man said, "for years, we've been looking everywhere for you. Please, come back home."
Master? Home? Was there a mistake somewhere?