Alone In A Foreign Land

He looked at me without a trace of concern, only irritation.

“Clean this up, and hurry with the food. Everyone’s hungry.”

The door shut behind him.

What he didn’t know was that there was a seven-week-old child in my womb. What he also didn’t know was that I had just discovered, at the hospital, that my marriage was nothing but a lie—a joke.

My life, ever since the moment I fell in love with him, had been one cruel joke.

…

The next day was the weekend. Early in the morning, Mark left the apartment, saying he had an urgent client to meet. Of course, Tonya went with him.

The apartment fell into a dead silence. Then suddenly, my phone screen lit up with a notification. The profile picture looked familiar. It was a candid shot of a man’s back, but I recognized that watch instantly. It was the one Mark always wore.

I tapped into the account. There weren’t many posts, but every single one sent a chill straight through me. The earliest post dated back five years, shortly after I had “married” Mark. It was a photo of two hands wearing matching wedding bands, resting on a marriage certificate.

The caption read, “Even if we can’t make it public yet, what’s legally recognized is forever. Thank you, Mr. Henderson.”

Three months ago, the caption read, “He said he’s filing for my lawful permanent residence. All the documents are submitted. Once it’s approved, I’ll finally be a real citizen here.”

Two months ago, the caption read, “Someone secretly upgraded me to the new phone again, said I deserve the best. I told him not to, but he insisted.”

There was a comment underneath that said, “Is that woman who’s always clinging to your husband still bothering him?”

She replied, “Of course. She’s like gum stuck to his shoe. She’s been pursuing him since their university days. She used to wait outside his dorm. Now, she’s followed him overseas. Doesn’t she ever look in the mirror? Does she really think she’s worthy of him?”

I stood in the middle of the living room, gripping my phone. March sunlight streamed through the windows, but I felt cold all over.

She wasn’t wrong. I was the one who pursued Mark. On the first day of freshman year, I was walking around campus with my camera when someone with a white shirt, backlit by the sun, stepped into my frame. The moment I pressed the shutter, my heart skipped. From then on, I pursued him all across campus.

He was the untouchable star of the law school, while I was just the ‘stalker’ from the arts school, always carrying a camera with me. Everyone said I wasn’t good enough for him. However, with nothing but stubborn courage and blind devotion, I forced my way into becoming his girlfriend.

The year we graduated, my photography career had just started to take off. I had won two awards, and several magazines reached out to commission my work. Yet, when he said he was going abroad, I packed my bags and went with him without a second thought.

He held my hand, his eyes red, and said, “Kaia, I’ll treat you well for the rest of my life. Marriage procedures overseas are complicated, so let’s get married back home first.”

After arriving in the foreign country, I wanted to continue photography. However, because of the language barrier, I kept running into walls. Once, I took on a small job, couldn’t fully understand the client’s requirements, and completely messed it up.

When I came home crying, he frowned and said, “You don't even understand what they say. Why are you pushing yourself? Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

From then on, he transferred two thousand dollars into my account every month. It was just enough to get by.

When I wanted to go home to visit family, he would always frown and say, “I’m tied up with an important case right now. I can’t leave.”

Then, when I said I could go alone, he replied, “What’s the point of going back by yourself? Once I’m free, we’ll go together.”

That wait lasted five years. As it turns out, all those excuses of being busy, the timing being inconvenient, and it being career-sensitive were never the real reason. The truth was simple: he had never treated me as his wife.

My phone buzzed. It was a reminder from the hospital about my confirmed scheduled procedure three days later.

…

What Mark didn’t know was that, over the last five years, I had never truly given up on myself. I never stopped working on the foreign language. I could now hold a three-hour conversation with a native speaker without stumbling. Sometimes, I even secretly took on small photography gigs online. He never once asked what I did during the day anyway.

The day before my procedure, I received a call from an editor at the magazine I had worked with before. They were preparing a feature on outstanding elites in foreign countries, and this time’s interview subject… was Mark.

The editor knew I lived abroad and had produced strong work before. She asked if I’d be willing to take on the photography for the feature. The pay, she said, would be generous.