Chapter 2 Resentment
The two or three days Colonel Thanet didn't return home brought a rare, tranquil silence to the grand mansion. Namping and his son felt at ease, spared from living under constant pressure and the deep cuts of harsh insults. Yet, that peace was always short-lived.
Late one night, just as Namping was drifting off to sleep, the silence was shattered by the familiar rumble of an engine outside. He walked downstairs, overcome with dread. The scene before him rooted his feet to the spot. Though it wasn't the first time, he could never grow accustomed to the agonizing pain that slashed deep into his soul.
His husband's tall, imposing figure was guiding a cute young woman in revealing clothes into the house, completely brazen and unbothered. Namping's heart had shattered countless times, and each instance felt like a blade scraping over an unhealed wound. He had tried his absolute best to hold this family together as a devoted spouse, but all his dedication was meaningless in the face of his husband's relentless betrayals.
"Phii Nes... when will you stop bringing women into our home?" Namping asked, his voice trembling even though he knew the answer would be painful to hear.
"Mind your own damn business, Namping! When I brought men home, you complained. Now that I bring a woman, you're still sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!" Colonel Thanet barked back, his voice thick with alcohol and irritation.
"Do you even still see me as your wife...?" Namping whispered, his voice shaking so severely it was barely audible. He swallowed hard, attempting to force down the bitter lump in his throat, but the heartbreak overflowed, blurring his vision with a veil of tears.
"You're just bland! Tasteless! Since you can't satisfy me, I have to go out and get my fill elsewhere!"
The vicious words sliced through his dignity like a sharp blade. Thanet curled his lips in a derisive smirk, looking down at the slender man with utter contempt, as if all the love and loyalty Namping had given him over the years were merely worthless things to be trampled on at will.
Namping took a deep breath. His initial trembling gave way to an icy calm that seeped into the deepest corners of his heart. He looked at the man he called his husband with a transformed gaze a look that no longer held any lingering hope for love.
"Let's get a divorce." His voice was steadier and calmer than it had ever been. It was not a sarcastic remark, nor an angry outburst, but words forged from the ruins of a completely shattered heart.
Thanet, caught off guard in his frustration, froze for a moment. His bloodshot eyes tried to focus on the slender figure before him in disbelief.
"What did you just say?"
"I said, let's get a divorce... I'm done with a life where I have to endure your violent rages and your side chicks." Namping lifted his chin, fighting back tears to hide his weakness.
"Since you only see me as a tasteless, worthless thing, go ahead and find your 'excitement' elsewhere... I'm giving you back your freedom."
"Namping! How dare you ask me for a divorce! Have you forgotten that without me, you and your brat wouldn't even have a roof over your heads?!" Thanet roared, taking a menacing step forward to intimidate him as he always did.
This time, however, Namping did not shrink back.
"I'd rather sleep on the street than lie in a pool of blood and tears in this house with a man who is never satisfied." Namping held his gaze, his eyes resolute.
"Tomorrow, I will prepare the papers. You just sign them, and we won't have anything to do with each other... ever again."
"I'm not divorcing you!" Colonel Thanet refused instantly out of a tyrannical need for control not out of love, but like a dog guarding a bone it refused to share.
"Then you expect me to endure living like this?"
"That's your problem! Move, I'm going upstairs." The tall man made to brush past him indifferently.
A sudden surge of anger, pain, and total loss of faith erupted within Namping.
"If you take that woman into our bedroom... you'll regret it!"
"Regret it...? Oh, really, Namping?!"
The moment the words left Namping's mouth, Colonel Thanet, fueled by drunkenness and fury, lunged forward. His large, powerful officer's hand clamped ruthlessly around Namping's throat with brutal force! The crushing grip cut off the air supply to his lungs instantly.
"Ugh! Ah..."
Robbed of air, Namping felt as if all the oxygen was being sucked out of his body. He struggled feebly for a brief moment, but as despair overwhelmed him, he surrendered to the crushing grip, letting his body go limp in the hands of the man he loved, who had now become his enemy.
"Go ahead, Phii... kill me and end it right here in your hands!" Namping choked out with great effort. Yet, despite his hoarse voice, a fearless defiance shone through. The physical pain was nothing compared to the agony his heart had endured for a decade.
"Don't you dare test me, Namping!"
"Since you don't love me anymore... why hold on...?"
The tall man tightened his grip even further until Namping could barely breathe. Namping closed his eyes, awaiting the death he believed would finally free him from this torment. But suddenly, the suffocating pressure on his neck began to ease, as if held back by a sudden realization.
"Agh!"
The trapped air rushed back into his lungs, making his entire frame jolt violently. He collapsed onto the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, his limbs too weak to support his weight.
"Gasp... gasp... cough, cough!"
A harsh, raspy cough broke out repeatedly as his chest heaved violently. He greedily pulled air into his lungs, the bitter burn of fear and pain searing his throat as tears washed down his cheeks unconsciously. His trembling fingertips reached up to clutch his burning neck, where the bruised imprint of a hand remained clearly visible.
"Remember this! Don't you ever dare cross me again! And get it through your head that I am the master of this house!" Colonel Thanet spat coldly. He stepped over the limp body on the floor and led the young woman upstairs to the bedroom, leaving Namping abandoned in the dark.
Namping sat battered on the floor, devoid of strength, crushed by the overwhelming wave of sorrow. The deep physical and emotional scars were far beyond his power to mend. Disappointment had eroded his heart so completely that he barely possessed the desire to go on living. But then, the image of his little boy flashed vividly in his mind. He couldn't die... he had a precious little life left to protect and nurture.
Perhaps all this turmoil had started when Phii Nes first expressed his desire for a son. Namping had willingly undergone medical procedures and treatments until he successfully became pregnant. When Phii Nes learned of the pregnancy, he was overjoyed dotting on the baby, pampering and cherishing Namping as if he were a princess in a fairy tale.
Yet, everything vanished the moment Namping gave birth via C-section. Due to his frail body, Namping had to turn down his husband's advances while recovering. At first, Phii Nes was understanding, saying,
"It's alright, I can wait." But soon after, the man who used to come home on time began to change claiming he was busy, on duty, or simply not coming home at all.
As suspicion grew, Namping decided to carry his baby to the military camp to find his husband, only to be met with a soul-crushing truth. His husband's excuses were nothing but a staged web of lies. Namping could only carry his child back home, bearing the weight of a shattered heart alone.
From that day on, arguments erupted nearly every day. The verbal abuse gradually escalated into increasingly severe physical violence. Having no income of his own and being entirely financially dependent on his husband, Namping was consumed by fear that if he ran away, his son would grow up without a father's love, not to mention the lack of funds to start anew.
He didn't dare call his mother for help out of consideration for her situation, so he quietly saved whatever money he could. Over time, he built up a modest fund just enough to get himself and his son settled in Isan. Freedom was within reach; he just needed to plan every step with absolute precision.
Namping slowly forced himself up from the ground amidst the lingering pain. He took weak, unsteady steps up the stairs toward the second-floor bedroom where his little boy was sleeping peacefully. This was his sole motivation... He had to succeed for t
he sake of his child, and he had to break free from this living hell once and for all.