i hate my wife final boss

It was a grueling decision, at least for the me of ten minutes ago.

I was now foregoing all thought, letting one booted-foot step after the other. My burden was no longer heavy, and while my back still ached it was now only a physical pain. There were no tears nor anger from self-inflicted punishment. There was no burn in my chest save for the cough I let out every time I got a whiff of myself that had been swept up by the cool mountain air. After the long and arduous journey, id made my choice and am satisfied with it.

Two days prior I’d left my house in a huff, foregoing any goodbyes with the wife. We’d argued all morning over who was to make the trek to the next town over for our previously ordered share of food for the approaching winter. This one was set to be larger than usual and she complained of fatigue and aching feet after being home all day, while I argued fatigue and what is now a still aching back. Even during this bought she was lounged on the couch, so I continued the shouting match while gathering my things for the trek, and out the door I went.

My first whole day was spent moving through our small town, young and old asking about my wife despite my sour disposition. They praised her and said to deliver their thanks and well wishes as always, not knowing of her recent intolerable nature. She publicly was a major part of our community’s group of artisans, creating paintings and murals for events. The largest was the one at the entrance gate, a gorgeous display of the distant plains a ways away from us. She claimed it to be “welcoming” to those from the area who came to exchange goods, but im sure its because she still hadn’t managed to work through her perfectionism when it came to displaying our own area’s beauty. While I admit her talent drew me in I’ve come to learn recently she infact only thinks of herself.

I scoff at the thought later that evening as I settle in the guest grounds at the edge of town. That night id dreamt of a prior argument only months earlier. She’d been angry with me for one of the carpentry jobs I’d done for the house, not even acknowledging that I used my own tools and materials as well as my own free time to do something she’d later only begrudgingly “accept for now”.

The second day, I’d left through the gates not bothering to look at that woman’s fading work, already in a mood from my dream. She only does this because my carpentry mentor is on me often about my skills. He says I’ve got a long way to go before I’m able to make anything of use to our community though he doesn’t know I’ve fully furnished my house on my own. At least not to my knowledge. The wife frequents the carpenter’s square for isles and frames often, and they all know she’s married to me since she boasts of it often. I’m positive it’s only a coverup; some sort of inside joke amongst them all that she’s embarrassed of me and my status as an apprentice despite our age.

The walk was uphill and through thick forestry along a thin dirt path. With the sun high, you could see what you were going to be amongst in a few moments so it made it the safest trail to travel. I’d set up camp in a small clearing traders and travels had made over the years. The wife and I have traveled the path together many times, and now because of her own nagging and complaints here I am, set to lug down more than ive ever needed to carry on my own. She’s lucky I don’t bar her from eating any when I return, though im sure she’d shout her way out of it and id be left with trying to decipher another inside joke amongst her and my peers. She acts as if she’s better than me recently, sending me here and there for this and that, turning away my attempts for compromise, having the nerve to negate my carpentry work.

I’m more than halfway through the forest and at the clearing as night falls, tent pitched and head hurting from my stewing anger. Regardless I told myself not to fret as I was nearly halfway through the journey, growing angry all over again at the thought of return to that woman.

Day three, I collect my things and peacefully leave the forest, being as I had a dreamless night of sleep. From then it was clear, a sprinkle of trees here and there upon the uphill view and the chill beginning to bite through my thick clothing. I think again of the journey back down im soon to make, hoping the order wouldn’t be too heavy. I knew it would be. I come upon the four-way intersection, and make the right into the trader’s town, all walks of life owning a stall, cart or store. I join the line, and collect the order, fitting it securely in my bag and it’s lighter than id thought.

After a bit of lingering and gazing at the items I passed, I arrive back at the fourway sign. At the intersection, I could go right and head home – but turning left would take me over the mountain, and into the town on the otherside. It was a new and budding town, one the wife and I had spoken at length about recently. We were at odds about whether or not to move, to try and make greater names for ourselves and futures and foregoe the ceiling our titles created, but of course with her complaining she opposed, it wanting to wait to see what things would look like after the winter.

My gaze lingers on the sign directing me back to the woman and then on the one of promise.

I couldn’t stand to be around her recently, which is why id started to stay out, causing the argument without the goodbye at the beginning of all of this. She was 6 months pregnant and seemed to grow arrogant with all the gifts and pampering she received from fellow artisans and the townsfolk alike. Asking things of me as if she wasn’t still capable of travel being that up until this week, she’d fought with me on her not staying home. She was afraid of the “loss of painting” though I didn’t understand and still don’t.

My stomach churns and I clench my jaw as I step forward, but I scoff again.

Rejecting my hard work on a crib for my little one because it was the slightest bit off balance, and she “didn’t want a rush job”. She simply doesn’t believe in me.

My chest aches as I take another step.

She just looks down on me. Expects me to do her bidding because she pregnant, when I’ve seen what she’s capable of, that sympathy seeking woman.

I take one step and then another. Time away is all I need, yes. I’ll begin our life ahead of us at the new town and return after the winter to see her and our child. She’s got enough for herself to never have to leave the house, I’m sure. I’ll show her.