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“Where were you?” John asked, as his wife, Munira, had just returned home from the office. It was one in the morning on their black cat clock, and the husband was standing by the door, his face as red as fire. Munira glanced at him with a pensive look, hiding her hands behind her back.
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“I had a lot of things to do in the office,” Munira answered his questions calmly, her voice shaking. “My colleagues had to leave early and my boss wanted me to complete their unfinished work, so I had no choice but to-”
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“Hold on just a minute,” John cut his wife off mid-sentence. “Are you really sure you were covering for your coworkers?”
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“Of course I am, John,” she nodded her head. “Why would I be lying to you?”
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“It's just really suspicious of you to come home in the middle of the night all the time. Are you really sure you were completing what your coworkers had left off?”
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“Yes, I'm sure. Again, there is no reason for me to be lying to you about this sort of thing.”
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The blond-haired man rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms, looking at her straight in the eye. “Just admit it. You're having an affair with the boss.”
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Munira's eyes widened. “No I'm not. Why would I ever cheat on you with my boss? You know how much I love you, right?”
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“Do you really, though?”
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“I left my home country just to marry you. I would never, ever, leave you for someone else. You know how much I sacrificed just to be with you?”
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“If you love me so much, then you wouldn't have stayed at the office and kissed your boss with that mouth of yours,” John raised his voice. “A good wife is supposed to do everything her husband says, no questions asked.”
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“My father never did that to my mother,” Munira shouted back to him. “He never shouted at my mother, and he never even raised his hands towards her, unlike you.”
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“Your culture emphasizes husbands doing what the wife says. In my culture, it's the other way around, so you have to respect me in this house.”
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“Respect goes both ways, John. I respect your way of life in America, and I expect you to do the same with Malaysian culture, yeah?”
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“This is America, Munira,” he pounded his fist on the wall, making her gasp. “You are no longer in that backwards country of yours. It's time for you to move on so that you can fit in here.”
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Her blood boiled as she dropped her handbag on the ground, standing firmly on her ground, with her fist clenched. "When you marry me, you promised that you would let me be myself. You also promised that I get to follow my American dreams while maintaining my way of life back home.
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“You know, I never even got to go home to my kampung for the last 5 years. Both my parents are already old, and I never got to see them at all, and it's all because of you, John,” sobbed Munira, her tears streaming down her cheeks. “You promised me that I would visit them every year, but every time I planned to go back, you always stopped me. You always begged me to stay here because you can never survive without me. It's like I can't have a life outside this marriage.”
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Letting out a groan, John turned to his wife and raised his hands towards her, slapping her across her face. “How dare you complain about our marriage?” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “I gave you everything you wanted, and this is how you're going to thank me?”
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“Everything I wanted?” she got up, holding her sore cheeks. “All you do is ruin my life. I only wanted you to treat me equally, but you never did that to me.”
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Hearing that, he did not hesitate to jab his wife in the eye, leaving her to cry on the ground. His eyes hungered for suffering as she pulled her hair in his arms and tossed her towards the wall like a bag of rice. Munira cried and cried and pleaded for mercy towards him, but he just laughed at her.
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There is no mercy, he thought, as she kicked her in the stomach, making her cough out blood from her lips. “Please stop,” she begged one more time. “I'll do anything for you, John, I promise.”
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His lips curved into a smile as he tossed a tissue box towards her, retreating to the master bedroom upstairs. Munira could only wipe her tears as she managed to carry herself on her two feet, cleaning the wounds on her face.
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Locking herself in the bathroom, she cleaned her wound and blood which stained her white blouse and black pencil skirt. That son of a bitch, she cursed. I'll make him pay for what he did to me for the last 5 years. And I will go through with my plan to get rid of him.
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So the next day, Munira called in sick when she noticed her husband wasn't home. Probably hanging out with our neighbor's wife, as always.
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Flipping through the pages of her old diary, she discovered one of the rituals that was done back home, which involved whipping something up in the kitchen. Adding two cups of rice into the rice pot, she let it cook for around half an hour, and, while she was waiting for the rice, she started frying a bowl of marinated chicken from the refrigerator together with blended chilies, adding a bit of tamarind juice and tomatoes to balance the spice.
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Grabbing a container of chopped long beans, she poured them onto a saucepan and mixed them together with the fried onions and garlic that were diced, before putting a bit of oyster sauce for flavor.
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Placing the pot of freshly-cooked rice underneath her sarong, she let her menstrual blood drip onto the rice one-by-one as she chanted a special prayer for her ritual. I called for my husband’s soul to be controlled by me, and whatever I said or desired, he would obey my commands. If I choose to break the bond between us, then may Shaytan take my life as well.
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As the last drop of period blood fell onto the rice, she began mixing it together with a rice ladle and chanted, My husband will be drawn to this rice, and he will give his soul to me and Shaytan. If I choose to break the bond between us, Shaytan will drag me down to Hell as well.
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Munira then set up the table with stir-fried beans, ayam masak merah and plates and cutleries when she heard the front door burst open, signalling to her that her husband had returned from his moments with the neighbor’s wife.
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“Honey, is my lunch ready?” John demanded, making her smile sweetly.
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“Of course it is, my darling,” she replied, with a sweet voice and a deceptive smile. "I have prepared everything just for you."
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He smiled back as he sat down and took a bite of his meal, when he noticed his rice had a metallic taste in his tongue. “Umm...is it me or does the rice taste weird?”
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“It's just fresh out of the stove,” lied Munira, acting in a normal way. “It's normal for fresh rice to taste weird. You know how it is, right?”
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Without doubting his wife, John continued to eat the rice that was laced with her period blood, not knowing what would soon happen to him. Once they were finished with their meal, Munira cleared up the dining table and placed the dirty dishes in the sink when she glimpsed at her husband, who was twitching for a moment, before staring at the pastel green wall.
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She approached him cautiously and waved her hand in front of his, trying to catch his attention, but all she had gotten was a blank look from him. “John, are you okay?”
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“I'll do anything for you, my lovely, beautiful wife,” he told her, clinging onto her arms. “Just promise me not to leave me behind. I can’t imagine life without you”
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It worked, Munira gleamed to herself, before clearing her throat. “John, can you do the dishes for me, please? My arms feel sore after cooking all day long.”
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“Yes, my love,” John obeyed her orders, as he got up from his seat and did what he told her. For the first time, he was doing the chores that Munira would normally do, making her pleased with herself. Oh, I can finally control him without any complaints. This is going to be so easy for me to do my job.379Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡms23DLoH8a
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“Hey, John,” she called her as she leaned against the couch, watching her favourite Korean drama on Netflix. “Can you make us some popcorn? It's been awhile since I had them.”
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“Yes, dear,” he bobbed his head, as he microwaved a bowl of popcorn in the kitchen and served them to his wife, much to her pleasure.
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“Thanks, dear. You are the best husband I ever had.”
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For the whole week, Munira gets to do whatever her husband had forbidden her to do for 5 years. She could leave the house without John's permission, she could dress however she wanted, she could even hang out with her friends for hours, and she didn't have to worry about doing the chores, because her husband is doing everything for her.
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This is everything I've always dreamed of, Munira gave a pat on her shoulder, as John was standing behind her, massaging her sore back after work. Now that's how a fairytale should be.
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But as a month flew by, Munira felt something sinister around the house. Whenever she returned home from work, she noticed dark, shadowy figures in every corner of her wall, making her goosebumps sprout on her skin. She would hear ominous voices in her ears whenever she's asleep and feels like she's being watched constantly. Remember our deal, they whispered in her ears. Breaking this spell would mean I get your soul as well.
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“Why did I do this in the first place,” she expressed her regrets, as she frantically searched for an antidote to undo the spell, on hearing the same voice in her head. Breaking this deal would mean a place in Hell for you and John.
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“How do I get rid of him?” Munira bit her nails, when she glanced at the window, making her eyes brightened.
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When morning came, she peeped through the door and saw him looking at his reflection in the mirror as he adjusted his tie. Giving him a knock, John gave her a lovely smile as he caressed her cheeks with a blank, zombie stare. “What do you need, honey?”
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She tilted her head sideways as her eyelids moved upwards, before giving her total attention to him. “I want you to fly for me,” Munira told him. “It’s torturing for me to see you cooped up at home, and I want to see you fly for your everlasting freedom.”
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“Yes, my love,” John listened to her for one last time, before climbing onto the windowpane and jumping out of the window, landing on the hard, concrete ground. His blood splattered all over their backyard as his limbs were stiff and his eyeballs separated from his sockets.
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Overlooking the gory scene, Munira let out a throaty cackle as she clapped her hands and lay on her bed, wiping the tears of joy from her eyes. May he burn in Hell for eternity, she shrieked to herself with pleasure, when her body soon began to combust into flame.
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