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Fuck me. I want so badly to tell myself that I’m angry right now because she lied, or because she broke the law. Or because if this gets out now, it’ll be a “troubled past that made him a stronger man” for Hall, and it’ll be an embarrassing punchline for me, as the candidate who went and married Hall’s old fling.
But that’s not really it.
I’m angry because all I can think about is Fumi with another man, and it’s making me want to destroy the world.
“Did you manage to pick up bok choy?—”
She tenses when she turns and sees the poisonous look on my face. “Gabriel?”
My jaw grinds as I start to move toward her. Fumi shivers, a look of fear spreading across her face as she backs away from me.
“You’re scaring me?—”
“Yeah?” I snarl, surging into her. She gasps, shuddering as my hands slam past her, gripping the counter behind her on either side, boxing her in.
“Gabriel…”
“You fucked him?!” I hiss.
Her face pales. “What?”
“DID! YOU! FUCK! HIM!”
Fumi’s throat bobs. “What are you talking?—”
“I’m talking about you and fucking Hall,” I snarl viciously. “I’m talking about you playing Monica fucking Lewinsky with my goddamn opponent!!”
Her face cracks.
“I am talking about,” I roar, “the fact that you neglected to mention your fucking fling with the very man?—”
“It wasn’t a fucking fling,” she suddenly screams at me, her face shattering as tears begin to tumble from her eyes. “I was drugged and raped by that fucking man!!”
The kitchen goes utterly silent.
“What you’re talking about, Gabriel,” she chokes, sobbing as she starts to break down completely, “was the most horrible experience of my life?—”
And then she crumples. It’s like she’s a marionette, and someone’s cut her strings, and she’s falling into a pile.
But she doesn’t make it to the floor. Because I catch her first and pull her into my arms.
At first, she’s still screaming and hitting me. But I don’t move away, or let go, or stop myself from hugging her tight to my body. Slowly, her screams and her anger fall away, and all I’m left with is her sobbing into my arms as she clings to me for dear life.
Fumi’s sipping on some tea, sitting on the sofa in the living room. She’s staring at the file folder sitting on the coffee table in front of her that I won’t allow her to touch.
Letting her read all those filthy lies would be cruel.
She slowly shakes her head, her shoulders still shaking as she breathes.
“Whatever is in that,” she murmurs softly, glaring death at the file, “it’s all bullshit.”
Her lip retreats between her teeth. Slowly, her eyes lift to mine.
“I was nineteen, Gabriel. I didn’t know I was going to go into law yet; I was going to be a political science major. I wanted to work on campaigns and be a part of the democratic process, you know? I mean, I wanted to help bring about change.”
She looks down at her tea.
“It was rape, not a fucking affair,” she hisses bitterly.
