Jasmin set out an extra plate because Merima said her friend would come after training. It was a small sign that perhaps they were returning to shared Sundays. In recent months, Merima always had something outside the house: training, coffee, a brief visit to an aunt. Jasmin didn't want to count her outings. Still, he began counting lunches eaten alone while the second portion dried in the oven.
The friend called to ask when she should arrive. In passing, she said she hadn't seen Merima since spring and was glad to hear from her again. Jasmin lowered the ladle. That same friend supposedly trained with her regularly in recent weeks. He didn't question her further. He said lunch was postponed over a private matter and apologized for telling her so late.
Merima arrived smiling, with wet hair and a bag of oranges. Seeing two empty places, she asked where the guest was. Jasmin told her what he heard. He didn't raise his voice, but wouldn't accept a story about misunderstood schedules. He asked where she had been that morning. Merima sat and admitted seeing a man she met at work. She no longer knew how to end her relationship with Jasmin and had postponed the decision for months.
"You made the decision every Sunday," he said. "You simply didn't tell me."
Merima cried. She said she hadn't wanted to hurt him and had felt lonely in their marriage for a long time. Jasmin could discuss their distance, but not as an explanation erasing her choices. He said he had been lonely too and hadn't known how to turn it into justification for another home. He didn't demand she immediately love him again. He demanded she stop making him the only person unaware of the life they were living.
They separated, with difficult arrangements over the apartment and shared belongings. Merima moved to her new partner, but received no confirmation from Jasmin that everything had ended well for everyone. He didn't spread their intimate conversations through the family. He stated what happened and retained the right to anger without a performance. For a while, he cooked only soup on Sundays because the smell of a large lunch brought back the same waiting.
In spring, he invited friends for a meal he wanted to make himself. Nobody was late without a message. One chair remained empty because a guest was ill, but it wasn't an empty place imposed through concealment. Afterwards, he packed leftovers and gave them to guests. He left no portion in the oven for someone who might arrive. For the first time in months, he closed the kitchen once the work was truly finished.