The Seven-Year Itch (6)

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(Chapter Six) Holiday Inn
Arriving at the Holiday Inn, I sat in the car, pondering how to find them. I was familiar with this hotel;
company business dinners often took place here. The first and second floors were restaurants, and the third floor and above were suites.
I went to the front desk and saw a familiar-looking receptionist. I decided to try my luck, and if that didn't
work, I'd think of something else. So, I mustered my courage and asked, "Excuse me, could you please check if there are any rooms booked by our company?
Her name is Li Hui, and she's probably using her own name."
The receptionist smiled at me and started searching on the computer; she seemed to recognize me. I was secretly pleased, but then I thought
of my wife, and my heart was filled with anger again.
"It's room 618." The receptionist looked up and gave me a standard smile.
"Thank you."
I suppressed my anger and forced a smile. 'She really dares to use her own name to book a room,' I cursed under my breath
, and quickly walked into the elevator.
On the sixth floor, the brief acceleration from gravity left me feeling oxygen-deprived. The corridor was eerily quiet; I could almost hear
my own heartbeat. I strode out of the elevator, my anger rising with each step.
Reaching room 618, I calmed my breathing and raised my foot to kick it. Just then,
a loud "bang!" echoed from the end of the corridor. I turned to see a hotel employee pushing a trolley, gripping
the doorknob, staring at me with wide eyes. I froze, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of a stranger. I
slowly lowered my foot, pretending nothing had happened, and turned to walk away.
Instead of taking the elevator, I went to the fire escape at the other end of the corridor, leaning on the railing and struggling to sit down on the stairs,
gasping for breath. Everything that had just happened seemed to have drained all my strength. I shakily pulled out a cigarette,
lit it, and puffed away. The taxi driver's words suddenly echoed in my mind: "Don't
rush things, stay calm, think it through."
My emotions slowly calmed down. Looking back, I realized I'd acted too impulsively. Luckily, I didn't break down the door.
If my wife wasn't inside, I'd be incredibly embarrassed; but if she really was with another man, how would I
face her? Beat that man up, slap my wife hard, and slam the door? Could I
bear the consequences? In this small city, if I did that, the news would
spread like wildfire, becoming the talk of the town. What would my friends and colleagues
think of me? "Look, Manager Zhang, wearing a green hat."
Divorce was the only option left. My wife would leave me; would our seven-year marriage
end? And what about my daughter? She's only five years old; she'd be without a mother.
I could only swallow my anger, but I couldn't bear my wife's betrayal. Since we got married, I
had pampered her and never let her suffer any hardship. I worked tirelessly to support the family, and this was the end
result. The thought of her in the taxi with that blond guy felt like my heart was being pierced by a steel awl
.
I shuffled downstairs and drove away from the Holiday Inn.
Driving aimlessly, my wife called: "Hey, honey, I don't
have class this afternoon. I'll pick up our daughter later. Are you coming home for dinner?"
I wanted to confront her about her betrayal, but when she mentioned our daughter, I swallowed my words. Now
wasn't the time to confront her. This needed to be handled calmly, without making a scene.
I didn't want to see her right now, so I said curtly, "Not sure, you don't need to wait for me."
Hanging up, I stared blankly ahead, slowly moving with the traffic. The shops along the roadside gradually lit up
. I checked my watch; it was already past six. I randomly picked a restaurant and started drinking in silence. The pungent alcohol stimulated
every nerve in my body, and the frustration in my chest attacked me again and again. Before long, I slumped onto the table, unconscious
…
I was woken up by the restaurant owner; it was already ten, and the restaurant was closing.
I staggered into my car, but I couldn't find the ignition switch. In anger, I slammed the keys down and slumped
onto the steering wheel: "Where am I going? Home? Will that place still be my home?"
I fumbled for the keys and drove home. What I had to face sooner or later, I had to face.
The living room lights were off, and the bedroom door was closed; she was probably asleep. Good, at least I didn't have to face her today
.
After showering, I went to check on my daughter's room as usual. I'm usually so busy with work that I don't spend
enough time with her. I take her to the amusement park on weekends when I have time.
I opened the bedroom door. The bedside lamp was on, and my wife was still awake, wearing her
thin black nightgown and a blanket over her lower body. She sat there looking at me and said, "Honey, why are you so late?"
This made me nervous, as if I were the one who had done something wrong, not her. I gave a heavy "Mmm!" and
threw back the blanket, lying down on the bed with my back to her. My wife paused for a moment, then lay down close to me, her left arm
around my waist, her soft, white breasts pressed against my back. She looked up and whispered in my ear, "
What's wrong with you today? You didn't even acknowledge me when you got home."
What could I say? I had no choice but to make an excuse, saying, "I'm just a little tired; the company's been really busy lately."
After I finished speaking, my wife let go of me, lay flat on the bed, and said, "Busy, busy, busy
! All you ever do is talk about being busy. How many times a week do you even come home for dinner? How many words do we even exchange in a week? Don't think I'm
nagging; I know you're busy working for this family. Our lives are better now, but I feel
like we've lost something. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I know it's very important to us." '
Now you're starting to criticize me, all those things you've done…' I thought to myself, turning to her and saying,
"You…" I looked at my wife, the words stuck in my throat. I know I still
love her. Seven years together have made me inseparable from her. I was afraid that if I said it, nothing could be salvaged,
so I said, "Don't think too much about it, go to sleep!"
After saying that, I was about to turn over to sleep when my wife called out to me, "Honey," and then snuggled up to me in
my arms. "Honey, I just hope you can spend more time with me and our daughter."
"I've been quite busy with bidding at the company lately. If we have time this weekend, let's take Xiaoxiao
to the amusement park."
My wife happily replied, "Great! We haven't gone out together in ages. Thank you, honey, I love
you!" '
It seems my wife still loves me. Then why did she do that behind my back? Is it because she's grown tired of me in bed
? Although we don't have sex very often, I'm confident the quality is still acceptable.'
I gently patted my wife's back, saying nothing.
I desperately wanted to know why she was cheating, but I couldn't directly ask her. I could only think of other
ways.
(To be continued)

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