Chapter 1
Alvin?“
“I’m at work, Dede. Call you later.”
“Alvin, I just want—”
Call disconnected.
He hung up on me. Again.
I wanted to tell him I’d be stuck at work…
“Professor Isolde?”
“Oh, hi, Mia. What’s up?”
“I finished my homework. Thought you might want to check…”
“Oh, sure! Hand it to me and I’ll return it tomorrow. Did you take my advice?”
“Of course. Thank you, Professor.”
“Always! See you tomorrow.”
“Have a good night!”
“Thanks! Even though I probably won’t.”
I mumbled as she closed the door.
I teach literature. Mia is one of my best students—curious and talented. A little too curious sometimes.
Thursday, 21:32. A cold, gloomy night. I was wearing my black coat and still freezing. I took the train home.
I observed my surroundings on the train: a young girl resting her head on her mom’s shoulder, a boy texting someone, a junkie barely standing. We are all the same people, yet we are so unique.
I got home at exactly 10 p.m. Alvin was already there, waiting patiently.
“Hi, dear!”
“Sunshine. Where have you been, Sunshine?”
“I tried telling you I got stuck at work, but you cut into my sentence and hung up.”
He was leaned against the door, arms crossed, clothes neatly ironed. His hunter eyes narrowed at me—scary, yet so comforting.
I stood in front of him.
“Hello, sir.” I smiled while looking into his warm brown eyes—the same eyes I fell in love with. I glimpsed at his lips. The lips that told me they loved me. The lips that asked, “Will you marry me?”
His expression was cold. Arms still crossed.
“Work, huh?”
Here we are again.
“Yes, Alvin. Please move, I’m tired and hungry.”
“Really? How come you always return home this late on a Thursday? Is it the new physics professor? I’m sure he could feed you.” He took a step back.
“Alvin, please stop.”
He scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“You know, Michael’s wife always gets home before 7 p.m.”
“His wife is a gardener, Alvin. She rarely even does any work.”
“Still.”
“Okay.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“You clearly said something, Isolde.”
Why does he do this?
“Do you want some pasta too?”
“I’m sure Arthur would enjoy your pasta as well. But yes, I do.”
“Okay.”
We ate in silence.
Went to bed in silence.
What’s wrong with him?
“Goodnight, Alvin.”
“Night, Sunshine.”
CHAPTER II
Morning, Sunshine!”
He said with the widest grin as he kissed my forehead. The sun rays were shining through the blinds. Birds were chirping. His warm skin touching mine. I love him.
“Slept well?”
“Mhm,” I said while rubbing my eyes.
“I had a dream of you.”
“Really? What was it about?” I turned to his side.
“So we were alone at a beach. You wore a nice, long wedding dress—a gown, bouquet of white roses. You looked mesmerizing.”
That’s exactly how our wedding day went.
“I take you, Isolde, as my wife.”
I was standing with my feet in the sand, soft beach breeze tangling my hair.
“I now nominate you as wife and husband. You may now kiss.”
That was the most honest kiss ever. His hands slightly touching my waist, my arms wrapped around his neck. Where did the time go?
We arrived back home. He was carrying me. I was tipsy. He was completely sober.
I lay on our bed. Makeup and outfit still on.
“So, Sunshine. What do you think?” he asked.
I remember the first time he called me Sunshine—when we first started dating. I sometimes wish we never did.
“So, Sunshine—”
“Sunshine?”
“…You like it?”
“A lot!”
I think he should change. I crave the old him back—the gifts, the affection. What happened to that?
That morning I woke up after going to sleep in silence. No one kissed me goodnight. No one listened to my nightmare.
It was 7 a.m. He was already gone. Cold morning. His side empty.
The sun didn’t shine. Birds weren’t chirping. I didn’t smell fresh coffee from the kitchen. We didn’t sit down and drink our coffee together, like we used to. He felt like a stranger. A stranger I always found comfort in. A stranger whose favourite color, book and food I knew.
He was distant. Always busy. Phone always buzzing. Calls from people whose names were hidden. What has gotten into him?
I got to work a bit earlier than usual.
“Hi Isolde—oh dear, you look depressed. Is everything okay?”
My expression changed.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
I was already tearing up.
“Isolde? Is it Alvin?”
I nodded.
“Britney, he feels so different. I crave the old him back.”
“I know, De. I keep telling you to let him go.”
“I can’t.”
“Come on, let’s go grab lunch.”
Britney isn’t only my colleague. She is my friend. Always invited me out. Never ate without bringing me with her. Always a bad feeling about Alvin. She grabbed her keys and we went to the nearest supermarket to grab something.
“Class dismissed,” I said with a slight sigh. I’m tired.
I walked towards my office. Britney invited me on a girls’ night tonight. It’s Friday. Tension in my body rose every time I thought of telling Alvin the idea of me going out.
I sat down in my office. Cold, empty, soulless. Just like my bed this morning.
I was drinking coffee from my favourite mug. “Mug of Sunshine,” it said. I miss you, Alvin.
I started reading Mia’s work. It was called Dear Bestfriend.
“To my dear bestfriend, Luke.
Whose jokes always made me smile,
Whose smile was always warm,
Who always cheered me up,
Who always told me it’ll be alright.
The one I like the most.
The one I hope will never leave,
The one who never let me be alone.
The one I hope to say ‘I love you’ instead of ‘See you.’
My bestfriend, and I hope someone I will call
My love.”
I could feel tears in my eyes. Innocent, pure and sweet. Right, Alvin?
Someone knocked on my door as I was about to wipe my tears with a tissue.
“Yes?”
“Hello, Professor. It’s me. May I come in?”
“Of course, Mia.”
“So… what do you think?”
“Amazing. I wish I was able to grade this. Do you maybe want to read this to the whole class?”
“No!” she chuckled.
“Is this about Luke Peterson?”
“How did you know?!”
I smirked and handed her the papers.
“Teachers know best.”
“See you tomorrow, Mia.”
“Goodbye, Professor, and thank you!”
I see how her eyes sparkle when they talk.
I felt how my heart warmed as we touched.
CHAPTER III
Friday, 22:43.
Britney was getting ready with me. She told me I needed to look alive.
“I haven’t gone out in ages.”
“Of course you haven’t, Isolde. Your leech of a husband never lets you,” she said.
I was wearing my black dress — the one I hadn’t even seen in ages. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Red lipstick. Hair down. Black heels.
“You look gorgeous, De.”
“Thanks,” I smiled softly.
I heard someone honking outside.
“C’MON GUYS! WE’RE GONNA BE LATE!”
“Oh crap!” Britney said in panic.
“Where is my purse?!”
“Right here, Britney, come on!”
We rushed to the door. I almost tripped — I hadn’t stepped in heels since our wedding.
“Come on, De, let’s go! Snap out of whatever you’re in!”
I smiled and entered the car.
The music was blasting. Everyone was hyped. Everyone was happy.
Is this… happiness?
We arrived at the club.
“You okay, De?”
“I haven’t told Alv—”
“Don’t even think about him.”
“Okay…”
We made our way inside. Neon lights, loud music, people, smoke. Everyone was enjoying their time — girls swinging hips, guys paying for their drinks, phones out, the DJ remixing different songs.
I used to love this life. Alvin turned me into the word boring. I forgot what partying felt like, what alcohol tasted like.
“And for the black dress?”
“I’ll have a martini.”
“Good choice.”
My friends pushed me onto the dance floor. I was tipsy. I danced, drank, smoked. I lived.
“I’m going to sit and order another martini.”
“Okay, call me if you need me!”
Britney and I screamed into each other’s ears — the music was too loud.
We had a girl code: never leave anyone behind. I think that’s just basic human decency.
I sat at the bar.
“Hello, black dress. Another martini?”
“Give me one.”
My phone started buzzing. Alvin, of course.
“Where the hell are you?!!?”
I chugged my drink down.
“Can I get another one?”
“Sure.”
My phone started ringing again.
“Answer me, Isolde!”
You are so gorgeous.
I would never leave you.
I love you, Sunshine.
This reminds me of you.
Now it’s just… emptiness.
“What? Don’t tell me you’d like another martini?”
“Yeah, I would.”
I love you.
Isolde, you’re crazy.
I’m obsessed with you.
What the hell is wrong with you?
I’m gonna marry you.
She’s just a friend.
I was chugging the drinks down like whiskey.
“…Another one?”
“I’ll pay!” a random creep said.
“Yes. Another one.”
My phone was blowing up with texts. Everything felt numb.
“SEND ME YOUR LOCATION! NOW! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!!???”
I couldn’t hear the music anymore. I couldn’t see the bright neon lights.
I only saw his eyes.
I only heard his I love you.
I fainted. I was really drunk.
Soon enough, everyone was around me.
We were outside. My phone still buzzing.
“Do we get an ambulance?!”
“No, no,” I mumbled.
“Oh, there she is! De, are you okay?”
“Take this,” Aubrey handed me a water bottle.
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Drunk. Is Alvin here?”
“No, he’s not.”
CHAPTER IV
I woke up in a strange bed. Not my empty, cold one. Not in my home. Where am I?
“De! How are you?”
“Britney? I’m fine, thanks.”
“God, you look awful.”
“I am indeed awful.”
“Right. Drink this.”
“Charcoal? I didn’t overdose, I’m just—”
I threw up.
“Drunk? Yeah,” she said, holding my hair.
After throwing up a few times, I went to the bathroom. I did look god-awful.
Messy hair, smeared mascara, lipstick gone.
“Alvin called you 87 times. I think he’s furious.”
“Really?”
He’s the main reason I got drunk.
“He’ll come pick you up in 10 minutes.”
“Amazing. Can’t wait to argue with him.”
“Isolde, I told him not to bother you a lot.”
“You think he’s gonna listen to you? He doesn’t even listen when I tell him to bring an umbrella because it’s gonna rain — let alone someone else.”
“Please, just keep calm.”
“I will.”
I saw his text: ‘I’m outside.’
‘Coming’ was my only reply to his 100 messages and 87 calls.
“Good luck, De.”
“Britney?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“Always,” she smiled. “Now go to your husband.”
Husband — your support, love, caregiver. Not a manipulator and a narcissist.
Okay. Here we go.
I opened the car door. Keep cool.
“Where the hell have you been?”
“Out, Alvin. I was at a party.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“No. I didn’t want to argue.”
“So you just get drunk and never tell me? God knows how many guys you kissed.”
“Yeah, exactly. And fuck you, Alvin.”
He chuckled. The argument was becoming heated.
“So you were making out? I knew it.”
“I wasn’t. I was getting drunk off martinis and the occasional tequila.”
“Martinis?”
“Yes, your favourite.”
“You’re insane in the head, Isolde.”
“You are!”
“No, you are!”
“You know what? Whatever. Pull over.”
“Hm, have it your way.”
He did pull over. How simple.
“I won’t be home either. Have fun with your Grey’s Anatomy show and a glass of wine. You could also call Arthur over.”
“Yeah sure, maybe he’s gonna love me more than you do,” I said as I slammed the door.
He sped off.
The night was quiet. I was indeed watching Grey’s, but without him in sight.
I fell asleep alone.
Our bed was cold and lifeless. It wasn’t made to be this empty.
I can’t live like this anymore. This is not love.
He was back again.
Plates breaking. Walls punching. Yelling.
“I hate you!”
“Never speak to me again!”
He thought I wasn’t being serious.
I disappeared into our room for a few hours. What he didn’t know was why.
“Oh come on! You’re acting all crazy again!”
Am I?
“Yes! What happened to the old Isolde? I want her back!”
You want the Isolde whose mind you were able to mess with.
“What is wrong with you?!”
“What is wrong with you?”
I kept my voice calm and steady.
He was already up from his seat. His freshly made coffee was now spilled all over the floor.
The same coffee we would drink every day.
The same coffee that calmed us down after a rough day.
The same coffee that kept us together.
That coffee was our tradition. Something that made us us.
But it was never about the coffee.
“You used to make us coffee every day!”
“You used to kiss me goodbye.”
“You used to keep the house spotless!”
“You used to hold me while I was dreaming.”
“You used to iron my clothes every day!”
“You used to bring my inner child outside.”
“What has gotten into you?!”
“You have. You used to love me, Alvin.”
My wedding dress swept the floor as my heels clicked towards the door.
“Isolde, please!”
“In another life, Sunshine.”
“ISOLDE!”
I closed the door behind me as he continued to mumble cuss words and punch the wall.
I left our garden. My hand ran through the roses we used to plant — the camellias he used to put in my hair. Everything was planted with love and purity, none of which is now left in him.
Goodbye, Sunshine.
