Love is Wrong

But before I could open my mouth to question, the door of the lounge opened again.

A well-dressed young girl approached and timidly called out, “Mrs. Kaiser!"

She was Ruben’s new graduate student this semester, Chelsea Rangel.

I had seen her.

Not long after school started, Chelsea was scolded by Ruben in front of other students because of homework problems.

Later, she rushed home late at night to hand in her homework and was drenched by the rain.

I let her take a hot shower and changed into my clothes.

But, the homework she brought and had revised late at night was again criticized by Ruben as worthless.

Seeing the delicate and weak little girl's eyes red with grievance, I could not help but comfort her with a few words.

Later she added me on WhatsApp and asked me about Ruben's temperament and preferences from time to time.

I thought she was trying to please her teacher, so I told her everything.

Later, during the Mid-Summer Holiday, Ruben said that Chelsea, a young girl from another place, was studying at a university here alone and could not go home for the holidays, which was very pitiful.

In the end, I invited her to come to our house to enjoy the holiday.

But then, it turned out what I did all the time was wrong.

While looking at the ambiguous red mark on her neck that was not covered, suddenly I felt that I was the biggest fool.

"You should go back first," Ruben suddenly spoke.

Chelsea lowered her head, quickly picked up her shoes and bag on the ground, and passed by me.

I turned and looked at Ruben who was sitting on the sofa, while trying hard to suppress the sourness and pain in my heart.

He asked in a deep voice, “Why?"

Ruben put down his crossed legs and sat up straight.

He looked at me and smiled, his expression the same as usual.

I would rather he was a little flustered or scared, so that I would look less embarrassed.

But reality was always cruel, and the words that came out of his 37- degree mouth were icy cold.

"Chelsea, she is very young and full of energy. You are so much different from her."

Well, how could she not? She was a 26 years old university student while I was a 29 years old married woman.

I pursed my lips. Suddenly I did not have the energy to ask any more questions.

While pretending nothing happened, I accompanied Ruben's parents to finish dinner together.

But the home was surprisingly quiet, and the long traffic jam made my already aching head even more painful.

As soon as I entered the door, I could not hold on any longer.

I climbed into bed exhausted, without even the strength to pull up the quilt.

My eyes closed uncontrollably in the night just to wake up from a groggy sleep in the morning.

It was already past eleven o'clock in the afternoon.

The other side of the bed was clean and tidy, with no signs of having been slept in.

I raised my hand and rubbed my sore eyes.

As I came downstairs, I saw Ruben in the kitchen.

"Morning. Since you got up late today, I decided to cook noodles."

Ruben looked as natural as usual, as if what happened yesterday was just a dream.

But Ruben's abnormal behavior had already explained everything, and I could not deceive myself.

"Aren't you going to work today?" I asked.

He answered simply, "Go in the afternoon."

I nodded and walked straight to the refrigerator to get out ice cubes to put on my eyes.

“Do you want to go to the hospital?" Ruben came over with noodles and asked with concern.

"It's okay, just apply ice to reduce the swelling."

"Then, let's eat."

I took the fork he handed over and looked at the noodles in the bowl which looked soggy. It really made me not have the desire to eat.

When I just felt my throat tightening, Ruben said again, “Try it. I just learned how to make it. It may not look good, but it should taste okay."

I had known Ruben for ten years and had been married for five years, but he had never been into the kitchen, let alone cooked.