The Divorce
I got divorced. For real. My wife, Seo Jia, is walking out of the courthouse. We submitted the papers, went through the mandatory cooling-off period, and now that the stamps are on the documents, we are legally strangers. She no longer calls the "ex"-husband standing next to her "husband." From now on, if we happen to bump into each other on the street and end up speaking, she will address me as Mr. Han Suhyun or just Han Suhyun. Of course, since we’re divorced, I figured we wouldn’t even be talking if we ran into each other, but—
"I'm glad it went the way you wanted. Take care."
"..."
My wife said nothing. She spun to the right, climbed back into the car she’d arrived in, and started the engine. But she didn’t drive off anywhere. Usually, a woman who initiated a divorce should be happy that it went through without a hitch, but she looked like she felt as if something had gone terribly, fundamentally wrong. With a shadow over her face and a haggard expression, she just stared at the steering wheel.
"...This, this isn't it..."
Seo Jia. Until an hour ago, Han Suhyun’s wife. Now, his ex-wife. She was the one who told her ex-husband to get a divorce. She said it to a husband who loved her dearly and treated her so well. Objectively and subjectively, my ex-husband was a good man. That’s why I’d been head over heels for him for decades. But apart from that, my sexual appetite, my tastes, and my fetishes were a little different.
I want to restrain my husband. I want to use him like a slave. It wasn't about making him do chores or anything like that. Up until now, in bed, he was the one with the lean, muscular build who would pin me down and take the lead, but that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to climb on top of him, I wanted to cuff his wrists, and if possible, I wanted to put a collar on him. Was that all? I wanted him to be obsessed with me, to love me so intensely it hurt... I wanted to put a black blindfold on him, kiss him, gag him, and then kiss his neck and chest. After that, I wanted to gently wrap my hand around his manhood, jerk him off, and whisper dirty things to him. I’d read novels with those themes since I was young; I thought they were so exciting and I’d always wanted to try them, but I could never bring myself to ask.
The reason I couldn't ask was simple. I was a year older than him, and the thought of suggesting such perverted acts as I got older made me feel a level of shame that would make it impossible to even lift my head.
'I want to tie Suhyun up with rope, I want to cuff his arms and press down on him so he can't even wiggle... I want to lick his chest and make him embarrassed by asking if it feels good, and then... and then I just want to do it, I want to ride him, and ah... that thick, long thing... when I slide it in from top to bottom... the way it fills me up, haa... ah, it feels so good...'
So, I made a plan. First, I’d strongly push for a divorce. Then, because he’s sensitive and kind, he wouldn't be able to get angry; he’d come to me, suggest we talk it out, and promise to do anything I asked. I’d play hard to get a few times, and then, on the third time, I’d confirm he was really willing to do anything and bring him into the bedroom. By the time I asked for the divorce, I had a box of SM gear hidden next to the bed where we usually made love. I was going to pin my husband down, climb on top of him, fill a masturbator with plenty of lube, and slowly slide his large, even-if-not-erect member inside. Then, I’d blindfold him, kiss him, gag him, and caress his chest. If it looked like his arms were moving, I’d cuff them and pull them behind his back. I figured he’d love it, too. He was a man with a high sex drive, so naturally, he’d follow my lead. Once he got a taste of it, Han Suhyun—my husband—would be begging for more, and I’d be able to sneer and play the Queen.
Of course, I didn't mean I’d be like that every single second. Naturally, I would continue to support my husband, the son of a chaebol family, just as I always had. I’d whisper that I loved him, express genuine concern when he was tired from work, and smile happily when he drove me home. I’d do my best for the only person I’d ever loved, just as I always had. Maybe one day I’d even quit my job and become a devoted housewife, but in the bedroom... I wanted it to be like that. In the bedroom, at least, in those moments when we were having sex, I wanted to be the one on top. I wanted to hold the power and spend my time training my husband.
However—
"Now, now what do I do... *sob*, haa..."
—I got a message from my wife around the time I was leaving work. From the person saved as ♥. I thought she wanted to talk about something urgent at home, so I headed back early.
"Let's stop. I can't live like this."
"?"
"How can you do it three times a day? I can't keep up. Let's get a divorce."
Ah.
"I've told you so many times I don't want to do those dirty things, why won't you listen to me?"
My wife said this to me, looking quite flushed as I sat on the sofa. Thinking maybe I could lighten the mood since it wasn't like it was a crime to want to do it, I offered to buy her gifts she’d like, but she wouldn't budge.
"We've done enough. I don't want to do it anymore."
"But it feels good."
"It's not about whether it feels good or not, I'm tired. I'm exhausted... I don't want to do it anymore."
After working hard at the company, coming home to hear my wife asking for a split left me staring blankly, wondering what the hell was going on. This had happened often before, and every time, I’d cater to her mood, do the dishes diligently, offer to do the cleaning for her, and tell her to lie down and rest, waiting until she calmed down.
"I don't need any of that. I'm sick of you now. It's hard. Just looking at you makes me scared, annoyed, and stressed. Just walking into this house makes it hard to breathe."
Whoa, this one was pretty harsh.
"I don't even need property division. I just want to pack my things and leave. Let's get a divorce."
"I'll just say it's my fault. Let's say I don't have the stamina to keep up with you. Please, just divorce me."
My wife went somewhere and brought back a piece of paper. A divorce application. My wife’s name, 'Seo Jia', written at the very top, and all the personal details already filled in below it. After picking it up, I let out a deep sigh, thought about it for a moment, and then looked at her, having made my decision.
"Fine. Let's get a divorce."
"..."
"I'll sign this and give it to you. You take care of the rest."
That is the reason I ended up divorced.
—I thought I had done my best in the two years of marriage—short as they were—since marrying my wife. When I earned money, I gave it all to her, I worked hard on the chores she assigned me, and I loved her without change. I never once got angry at her, and I never threw things or anything like that.
"Really? Just because of that? Seriously? Hey, you must have done something wrong."
"Do I cheat? Do I yell? Huh? What did I do? I'm telling you, it's really just because of that."
"Wow... how can you get a divorce for a reason like that? No, seriously, sister-in-law..."
I met my wife at the same university, and we went through this and that... but when I, the gentle one, didn't say anything, she confessed her feelings to me, and we started dating. It seemed like she really liked me a lot. She waited through my long military service, and I kept receiving letters from her asking when visitation would be, if I could take an overnight leave, if I could use my vacation time early, and so on. She was even worried about me meeting other female juniors, so she told me not to go out drinking, and in the end, she got a job first and became almost like a paranoid patient, trying to bring me into her studio apartment.
"It wasn't like this from the beginning."
Of course, she might think differently, but from a third party's perspective, my wife's reaction in bed was quite something to behold. At first, we didn't know what we were doing, so we’d look it up on our phones, but once we got used to it, her moans never ceased and echoed throughout the house. In the very beginning, there were even times when she wanted to go for another round.
"Then how did it end up like this?"
"I don't know, it just changed at some point."
It really was, quite literally, at some point. It happened suddenly. From one day to the next, she started saying things like, "I'm tired today, so I want to sleep early," "I don't have any energy today," or "I just want to sleep." If it were anyone else, they might suspect their wife was having an affair, but not at all. My wife was a translator you could often see on TV. She had no time for affairs. The people she met, the people she had to translate for, were all high-ranking officials in politics and economics, and after work, I usually drove her home myself. Out of ten times she came home, at least nine of them were with me. A woman like that wouldn't cheat. Furthermore, if she were cheating, why get a divorce? It’s not like her husband would know anyway—part of the purpose of an affair is enjoying the thrill—so I didn't think there was any need to get a divorce.
So, it was clear: my wife was either truly sick of sex, or she was so annoyed and bothered by a husband who wanted to do it three times a day that she decided to divorce me.
"So, what are you going to do now?"
Well, the first thing I need to do is...
"Uh, I'm going to go buy a PlayStation. How much is it? Is it cheaper to buy it online?"
Besides, wouldn't it look pathetic if I tried to hold onto my wife?