Brainwashed to Divorce

It felt as if the universe had tuned into his inner thoughts, with no intention of allowing him another opportunity to feel regret. The phone's ring broke the moment, announcing another call from the same number. This time, a faint smile tugged at the corner of Melvin's lips, a glimmer of anticipation or curiosity crossing his face.

"Hello." He spoke, pressing the phone next to his ear. 

A shaky, tired voice echoed from the other end of the line, carrying the words "My dear grandson!" After such a long time, hearing those words sent a chill down his spine, as if a wave of emotions and memories had suddenly surged back into his consciousness. 

There was a quality in the voice that caused Melvin to set aside the past and fixate solely on the current situation, on what might be troubling his grandfather. Why wasn't his voice its usual self?

"Are you okay, grandpa?" Melvin's voice, laced with concern, broke in. He couldn't recall a time when his grandfather had sounded so frail, not even when the devastating news of his son's brutal murder had shattered their lives.

"No, my dear, I am not okay," his grandfather's voice carried a heavy weariness that triggered a sense of alarm within Melvin. The urge to be by his grandfather's side surged so strongly that he considered rushing to his house immediately. The idea of seeing his grandfather in pain was unbearable, regardless of the cost.

"You're really worrying me. Please, let me know what's going on," Melvin implored, his pacing reflecting the anxiety that had taken hold of him, his hand resting on his waist as he moved around the room.

"Melvin," his name was spoken with a profound affection that resonated through the phone, "I need you to return." The words carried a sense of urgency and commitment, intriguing Melvin further about the hidden circumstances. His curiosity grew, sensing that there was more to the situation than met the eye. He knew his grandfather well enough to recognize that this tone was unlike anything he had heard before, a fact that only deepened his concern about what could be troubling him.

"I…" he began to speak but halted, caught in a moment of uncertainty. Melvin himself wasn't sure what had caused the pause – was it the lingering hurt from being forced out of his own home, or the empathy he currently felt for his grandfather's situation?

"I'll consider it," he responded, keeping his words succinct and avoiding delving into the past. His priority was acknowledging that his grandfather needed him now, setting aside personal grievances for the moment.

"Fair enough. Just remember, my arms are wide open and waiting for you," his grandfather's words came through before the call ended.

As the call disconnected, Melvin's gaze remained fixed on the phone's screen, his thoughts wandering through the labyrinth of his mind.

 On one hand, he was grappling with the mistreatment he faced in his marital home, despite being married, yet distant from his wife. Presently, he had little reason to stay there. On the other hand, his pride clashed with the offer of returning to his grandfather's home, making it a difficult decision to make.

Sliding the phone into his jeans pocket, Melvin opened the door, mentally preparing for the upcoming task of preparing lunch. He was determined not to give his troublesome mother-in-law a chance to belittle him any further. With resolve, he retreated into the kitchen, focusing his energy on the task at hand.

"You have to make a decision now!" Mrs. Edward's sharp voice halted Melvin's steps as he entered the kitchen. Her words were directed at someone unfamiliar to him. He quickly set down the knife onto the cutting board, curiosity piqued. Slowly, he backed up toward the wall that divided the kitchen from the living room.

He strained to catch her words, the sound of her voice reaching his ears. Yet, in the beginning, the context eluded him. What decision was she talking about? And who was the intended recipient of her urging?

"But Mom…" Naira's voice interjected, attempting to reason with her mother. Melvin's equilibrium threatened to falter as he instinctively reached out for support against the wall. A sense of panic began to surge within him.

"What you need to do is throw those damn divorce papers right in his face, and then kick him out of this house," Mrs. Edward's resolute tone carried to his ears, the orders she was giving Naira unmistakably clear. While Naira was an independent woman, she was also a dutiful daughter to her mother, a dynamic Melvin was well aware of. This characteristic of Naira's was precisely what Mrs. Edward and Bella capitalized on.

"He's utterly useless. I'm warning you, Naira, he's just after your money. He's scheming to ensnare you with affection and sweet talk, and eventually, he'll strip you of everything and leave us destitute. That's his intention," Mrs. Edward's accusatory tone conveyed, laying out her perception of the situation to her daughter.

A tidal wave of panic crashed over Melvin as those words reached his ears. The lack of response from Naira only heightened his unease. A strange blend of apprehension and curiosity surged within him, eager to uncover her reaction. 

Deep within, he held onto the belief that she wouldn't abandon him. His unwavering loyalty and compliance to her wishes gave him a glimmer of hope. He nurtured the assumption that perhaps there was a connection between them, enough to make him believe that worrying was unnecessary.

"I'm not naive. Rest assured, he's not capable of turning against us and betraying our trust," Naira's voice delivered the crushing blow that shattered the fragile shell of his optimism.

"Naira, my dear," she said, her voice tinged with concern, "I believe I can help you find a more suitable life partner. Someone who aligns better with your stature. Melvin, well, he just doesn't seem to fit by your side." She let out a heavy, audible sniff, the sound reverberating in the room. "I can't quite comprehend what your late father saw in him. It strikes me as an unfortunate choice." 

Naira responded, her tone slightly rushed, "You have a point, Mom. I'll certainly consider it. But at this moment, I'm pressed for time, with a meeting to attend. Let's talk more about this later." As she spoke, the sound of her heels clicking against the floor resonated, gradually fading into the distance.

Melvin's heart sank as he overheard the conversation. The words pierced through him, leaving behind a pang of hurt he couldn't ignore.

 Doubt and insecurity crept into his thoughts, and he found himself contemplating his grandfather's earlier offer to return home. The weight of Naira's mother's disapproval weighed heavily on him, and he began to question whether he truly belonged by Naira's side.

Fueled by a mix of frustration, hurt, and a deep whirlwind of emotions, he turned back to the kitchen shelf, where his unfinished task awaited. The knife felt cool and solid in his hand as he gripped it, quickly setting to work on the onions. The sharp blade moved with an almost reckless speed, the rhythmic thud of the knife against the cutting board a reflection of his turbulent thoughts.

Yet, despite his focus on the task, his eyes betrayed his emotional turmoil. As salty water welled up, his vision blurred, and the onions became secondary to the weight of Naira's words echoing in his mind.