Coming back to the inside, he uttered, “You look fucking scared, bitch. Don’t worry about it. She’ll come back, I know. To be frank with you, this is not the first time; this is the second time for her to storm out the apartment like a furious hurricane. The last time she came back three days after the incident. This time will take more time for her to calm down according to judging her level of resentment. In short, I expect it’ll take a week for her to come back. Christ, you still look worried, bitch. I’m really sorry for this, but what can I say? This is the marriage, you know….”
“But I’m still worried, for she looked like a quite determined,” I said nervously.
He hopped on the bed, undressed, and replied, “No problem, bitch. Time will make her calm down. She’ll eventually come to her sense and come back to the apartment. She’ll be staying at her sister’s apartment, so don’t worry. As I told you, it might take a week for her to calm down on this time, so we have a whole week to enjoy our night adventures without interrupting, ha-ha-ha….”
Here he suddenly raised his eyes heavenward, tilted his jaw higher, opened his arms horizontally, thrust his bare chest forward, and sang a ballad poignantly like an opera singer, as if only heaven were his solo audience:
Don’t worry, bitch! This is marriage. I can
Handle it. Oh yeah, I can handle it. She’ll
Eventually come back. Oh yeah, Just a
Matter of time, she’ll come back….
After finishing his improvising performance, he said downheartedly, “Let’s sleep, bitch. I’m fucking exhausted. I just want to have a good sleep tonight. I’ll think about it tomorrow. Good night, bitch, everything will be ducky.”