Crazy Rich Asians

“Really? Michael, you’ve worked late every single night this week,” Astrid said, trying to maintain a neutral tone.

“The whole team is staying late.”

“On a Friday night?” She didn’t mean to give away any indications of doubt, but the words came out before she could stop herself. Now that her eyes were wide open, the signs were all there—he had canceled on almost every family occasion over the past few months.

“Yes. I’ve told you before, this is how it is at a start-up,” Michael added warily.

Astrid wanted to call his bluff. “Well, why don’t you join us whenever you get off work? It’s probably going to be a late night. Ah Ma’s tan hua flowers are going to bloom tonight, and she’s invited some people over.”

“Even more reason for me not to be there. I’m going to be much too worn out.”

“Come on, it’s going to be a special occasion. You know it’s awfully good luck to witness the flowers bloom, and it will be so much fun,” Astrid said, struggling to keep the tone light.

“I was there the last time they bloomed three years ago, and I just don’t think I can deal with a big crowd tonight.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s going to be that big a crowd.”

“You always say that and then we get there and it turns out to be a sit-down dinner for fifty, and some bloody MP is there, or there’s some other sideshow distraction,” Michael complained.

“That’s not true.”

“Come on lah, you know it’s true. Last time we had to sit through a whole piano recital by that Ling Ling guy.”

“Michael, it’s Lang Lang, and you’re probably the only person in the world who doesn’t appreciate a private concert by one of the world’s top pianists.”

“Well, it was damn lay chay,^* especially on a Friday night when I’m exhausted from the long week.”

Astrid decided that it wasn’t worth pushing him any further. He obviously had a thousand ready excuses not to be at dinner. What was he really up to? Was the texting slut from Hong Kong suddenly in town? Was he going to hook up with her?

“Okay, I’ll tell the cook to make you something when you get home. What do you feel like eating?” she offered cheerily.

“No, no, don’t bother. I’m sure we’ll be ordering food here.”

A likely story. Astrid hung up the phone reluctantly. Where was he going to order the food? From room service at some cheap hotel in Geylang? There was no way he could meet this girl at a decent hotel—someone was bound to recognize him. She remembered a time not long ago when Michael would be so sweetly apologetic for missing any family occasion. He would say soothing things like, “Honey, I’m soooo sorry I can’t make it. Are you sure you’ll be okay going on your own?” But that gentler side of him had dissipated. When exactly did that happen? And why had it taken her so long to notice the signals?

Ever since that day at Stephen Chia Jewels, Astrid had experienced a catharsis of sorts. In some perverse way, she was relieved to have proof of her husband’s unfaithfulness. It was the uncertainty of it all—the cloak-and-dagger suspicions—that had been killing her. Now she could, as a psychologist might say, “learn to accept and learn to adapt.” She could concentrate on the bigger picture. Sooner or later the fling would be over and life would go on, as it did for the millions of wives who quietly endured their husbands’ infidelities since time immemorial.