Chapter 2: Cockroaches and Contracts

Today was Michael’s turn to cook, and I was so hungry I nearly teared up.

My own cooking was passable, but Michael’s? I was convinced he had a culinary degree.

His tomato scrambled eggs were fluffy and rich, the tomatoes adding just the right touch of sweet and tangy; the eggplant with garlic sauce was packed with flavor; sweet and sour ribs melted in my mouth. It was a feast.

I nearly cried, marveling at my luck.

As the saying goes, the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach. Well, Michael nailed it.

I showered him with praise.

He seemed a little caught off guard, his long lashes fluttering, gentle brows soft. After a moment, he managed a quiet "thank you."

He didn’t say much, just ate quietly, serene and composed—a stark contrast to my excitement.

I declared dramatically, "This is what living’s all about!" and got up for seconds.

Only then did he glance up, his eyes following me, expression unreadable.

After dinner, we lounged on the sofa. He kept glancing my way, clearly wanting to say something but holding back.

Just say it!

I flashed a reassuring smile. "What’s up?"

"I have a high school reunion tomorrow. Are you free? You don’t have to come if you don’t want to." He sounded earnest, genuinely wanting my input.

"I’ll go!"

I agreed instantly. I’m flexible, and besides, Article 52 of our contract covered this.

That meal left me in high spirits. When I’m happy, I tend to get a little wild.

"Any requests for my look tomorrow? Glam and bold, or sweet and low-key?"

I was all in. First time meeting my husband’s friends—I love a good challenge.

Gotta admire my professionalism.

Michael gave a shy smile, maybe embarrassed by my enthusiasm.

"Just be yourself."

"OK!"

I made a playful gesture, already picturing my closet and the perfect outfit.

"By the way, will any ex-girlfriends be there? Or should I be ready for any awkward run-ins? Heads up would help."

He looked at me, deadpan.

I panicked a little.

Uh oh, maybe I hit a nerve. I forced a laugh, "I’ll just wing it."

I quickly switched gears. "What time is it tomorrow?"

"Afternoon."

"Got it."

"I don’t have an ex-girlfriend." He lowered his eyes, voice soft.

"Sorry, what was that?"

I was distracted by my outfit hunt, eyes blurry without glasses, not quite catching his words. I looked up.

This time, he met my gaze, relaxed, and repeated, "I’ve never had an ex-girlfriend."

"Oh."

I nodded calmly, cool on the outside, but inside my mind was racing with snarky commentary:

This guy’s thirty and never dated?

What rare species did I just marry?

Better to believe in ghosts than a man’s word.

Is he kidding me? Nah, he’s not that type...

He looked at me with amusement, as if trying to see through me. I noticed a tiny mole at the corner of his eye, dancing with his smile.

Wow!

My heart fluttered for a second.

His smile vanished as quickly as it came. He frowned and teased, "Ms. Hayes, Article 2 of the contract—loyalty. Seems your trust in me could use some work."

"Noted."

"I just want to avoid misunderstandings."

"Understood."

I replied, all business.

"Just in case, if you’ve had any complicated relationships, you can let me know. That way I’m prepared for surprises."

"Mr. Michael, looks like your trust in me could use a little work, too." I parroted his words back.

Our eyes locked, neither of us blinking. We both got the message.

When I opened the door, I caught Michael’s surprised look.

My ego was slightly satisfied.

Ha, no big deal.

"Heading out?" I asked, feigning nonchalance.

His eyes widened, a little stunned—oddly adorable.

Arm in arm, we took a rideshare to the reunion.

No exes, no drama—just the usual social routine.

I’m not big on socializing, but I handled it like a pro, surprising even myself.

I’ve mastered the art of smiling—polite, playful, sarcastic, whatever fits the moment.

When people gossip behind my back, I smile, letting my words gently poke holes in their confidence. When they praise me, I smile and soak it up; when they show off, I smile and let my cluelessness shut them down.

Sometimes I even listen with genuine interest, marveling at the weirdness of the world. The more I think, the funnier it gets.

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Michael watched me, picking up on every little shift in my expression. "What’s so funny?"

"Just felt like laughing," I replied, raising my brows.

When we left, the sun had just set. By the time we finished eating, it was full dark. The dim yellow street lights cast sleepy shadows, drawing a few moths that fluttered up and down.

I felt a bit empty and hungry. I’d come to pig out but ended up with dishes I didn’t like.

Michael didn’t bother with reunion small talk—probably found it boring, too.

He’d had a few drinks, his cheeks flushed a soft red, glowing in the orange light.

"Lillian, do you think this life is good?" he asked suddenly.

"Not bad."

At least I didn’t have many worries.

"My parents divorced when I was really young," he said, staring ahead, eyes reflecting distant streetlights.

I knew before we married that Michael’s parents split before he was grown, each remarrying and leaving him caught in the middle.

"Ever since, I’ve wanted a home of my own—a solid, unbreakable home."

His eyes reddened, tears shimmering in the light.

I’m not great at comforting, so I just listened quietly.

After a while, he said, "So, for me, divorce isn’t an option."

I teased, "But what if... divorce happens? Gotta be realistic—life’s full of surprises."

He stared at me, eyes dark and swirling. "There’s only one reason for your question. Want to hear it?"

A chill ran through me.

Is he a psycho?

I shook my head quickly, "Who wants a divorce? No cheating, no divorce."

"No," he said firmly, though I wasn’t sure if he meant no divorce or no cheating.

On the subway, Michael seemed a little woozy from the drinks. I let him lean on my shoulder.

"Miss."

A sweet voice called out. I turned to see a teenage boy, eyes sparkling.

"Miss!"

Nope, can’t deal. I have a husband.

Michael was out cold. Didn’t he realize his wife was getting hit on?

"Sorry..."

"Miss, have you tried the Amazon Special Edition?"

...

I already had excuses for refusing Facebook Messenger, but this was new.

He rattled off his sales pitch, but I was unmoved. Eventually, he gave up and left, dejected.

In the reflection of the subway glass, I saw Michael’s eyes open, a sly smile on his lips.

Oh, so he wasn’t really asleep?

Back home, after a shower, I saw Michael eating instant noodles.

I reminded him, "Go easy on the instant noodles, they’re not good for you." Suddenly, I sounded just like my mom warning me about spicy snacks.

"Oh."

He blinked, still groggy, and slurped his soup.

Based on experience, that "oh" meant he’d want more next time.

"Ding dong—"

The doorbell rang.

I shuffled over in slippers, opening the door with a smile. "Thanks."

He placed my takeout on the table, unwrapping it with a flourish.

"What’d you get?"

I grinned, "Barbecue."

Michael looked puzzled, glancing between the last drops of noodle soup and the barbecue, face saying, "I don’t get it."

Embarrassed, I offered, "Want some?"

"Okay."

The mole at the corner of his eye seemed to dance.

...

I reluctantly shared half my skewers. Soon, the barbecue was gone.

"Why did you marry me?" he asked, turning to look at me.

"Because I’m lonely."

I finished the last skewer, propped my head on my hand, poked the foam takeout bag absentmindedly, answering honestly.

I meant it.

I love my solitude, but sometimes I crave warmth.

He didn’t seem surprised. We’d gotten to know each other pretty well lately, and I’m not exactly subtle.

"Just having someone around makes horror movies less scary."

He smiled, flattered. "So I make you feel safe?"

"Not really. Just need someone."

I shot down his ego with a smirk.

Even a dog would do, but I don’t keep pets.

He kept a crooked smile, hiding something in his eyes.

"Actually, I never thought about marriage before," I said, grabbing a napkin to wipe my mouth. "Until the moment I met you, I was all about staying single."

He looked curious, so I continued. "Your take on marriage was refreshing. And when we’re old, if I die first, someone will handle my body."

Not great at comforting, I tend to blurt out weird stuff—even creeps myself out sometimes.

"So, do you trust me?"

He meant the fact we got our license the day we met.

"No, I trust my own judgment." I didn’t care if he thought I was shameless.

He chuckled, rubbing his eyes. "Still anti-marriage?"

I paused, then said firmly, "Yep."

"What if you meet someone you really like?"

I answered calmly, "Honestly, my social circle’s tiny—I’m mostly a homebody. And I’m cold-hearted, so it’s hard for me to fall for anyone."

"Sometimes love just happens."

"But I’m all about logic."

Our marriage wasn’t about romance, but we set clear boundaries, giving each other a sense of security.

We might not be lovers, but we could be partners, growing together.

At the very least, responsible for each other’s final arrangements.

"By the way, if I die first, scatter my ashes in the Pacific. And don’t just dump them at the shore—take a boat out to the middle, then let me go, okay?"

He listened intently. I was pleased.

"Any boat requirements? Fancy yacht?"

"Ha, no need for anything fancy. Live well while you’re alive—when I’m gone, I won’t know. If you want, go wild with a yacht or a plane."

He laughed, "I’ll be ancient by then."

I swallowed the words, "You might not make it that long," and said, "Just don’t forget."

He nodded, getting into the morbid topic, "... I haven’t decided where I want to be buried yet."

I patted my chest, "I’ll get you a plot on the moon!"

We both burst out laughing. I collapsed onto the sofa, face flushed.

I stared at the ceiling light, refusing to look away even as it dazzled me.

"Sometimes I’m a hopeless romantic, but reality always wins. I once thought about living in the mountains, but I knew I couldn’t handle it."

"Are you happy now?"

Strangely, I can always laugh, read, watch movies, eat well, and feel happy. But when asked directly, I get uncertain.

Maybe I just don’t know the meaning of life, so I talk about death so lightly.