<br/><p>Nine hours later, Awang stumbled into the bathroom feeling worse than burnt filth on his tongue.</p> <p>“This is going to be a really miserable day,” he muttered to himself as he stepped out of the space around the toilet.</p> <p>The words <i>“I’m never drinking again”</i> kept circling through his mind. But of course, he would do it again. He always did, and deep down, he knew it. He had used that line more than a thousand times, and this wouldn’t be the last.</p> <p>Disgusted with himself, he remembered a survey that said seventy percent of college students who drank for social reasons got worse after graduating. And he knew that once he became addicted, it would stay with him for life.</p> <p>Staggering out of the downstairs bathroom in the clothes he had worn to the clinic yesterday, Awang muttered, “Where the hell is that Pepto-Bismol? I know we have some here. It better still be here—don’t move it anywhere!” he grumbled irritably, remembering that Kuntum couldn’t stand the smell of the pink syrup he found revolting.</p> <p>Still muttering to himself, he staggered back to the bathroom to look for the medicine.</p> <p><i>That’s what happens when you have a wife. They always find a way to worm their way into your life and destroy all the habits you had before marriage.</i></p> <p><i>Just like his old jogging shoes.</i></p> <p>When Kuntum bought him a new pair, she threw out the old ones, even though they were still perfectly good. Awang had worn them for more than nine years.</p> <p>Kuntum could have killed him. How could she make such a drastic decision without asking how he felt about it?</p> <p>After slamming open several wall-cabinet doors without finding anything, Awang finally gave up on searching for the Pepto-Bismol and headed for the kitchen. Cold milk had usually soothed his stomach before, and there was no reason this time would be any different.</p> <p>After pouring himself a glass, he gulped it down frantically. A few seconds later, a horrible, thunderous churning rose from his stomach, which could no longer process milk. But since he wasn’t drunk this time, Awang made it to the sink and easily vomited the white liquid into the basin, which was piled high with unwashed dirty dishes.</p> <p>“Damn it! I can’t believe this! I really did pass out for a long time this time,” he gurgled, his mouth sour and smeared with milk.</p> <p>He grabbed a plastic garbage bag in case he vomited again, then staggered toward the living-room sofa. As he passed the hallway corner, he saw his stethoscope hanging on the wall and struggled to think about work.</p> <p>If Kuntum came downstairs for breakfast later, he could call the clinic and tell them he’d be a few hours late. There was no way he could treat all the sick people in Taluk Kuantan who desperately needed him in his current condition. The clinic was his favorite nightmare even when he was healthy.</p> <p>And just like that, Awang fell back into a restless sleep. He didn’t hear Kuntum coming down the bare wooden staircase.</p> <p>Seeing her husband curled up on the sofa with a garbage bag tucked beneath his chin, Kuntum’s first impulse was to laugh. It was the first time she had seen Awang this sick since they got married. Aside from the accident, Awang had never been ill. And seeing a doctor sicker than most of his patients because of his own stupidity was actually pretty funny.</p> <p>“Awang... Awang,” she said, gently shaking her husband. “Aren’t you going to the clinic today?”</p> <p>Barely able to see Kuntum from behind his garbage bag, Awang groaned, “Please call the clinic and tell them I’ll be late. I can’t do it right now.”</p> <p>Quickly backing away when she smelled the vomit on Awang’s breath, Kuntum was overcome with disgust and began to scold him.</p> <p>“I think you’re lucky. Frankly, people didn’t expect you to be able to work again after that accident. Most people wouldn’t get a pass for behavior this stupid and reckless. What will your patients think if they see you like this?”</p> <p>“Shut up, Kuntum. Please leave me alone, Kuntum.”</p> <p>With a cynical smile curling across her lips, Kuntum turned away.</p> <p>“Whatever. Don’t take it personally. You did this to yourself, you know.”</p> <p>“Maybe,” Awang whispered.</p> <p>Kuntum’s anger exploded. “Don’t tell me you’re blaming me. I wasn’t the slut who poured palm liquor down your throat. I wasn’t!”</p>