My Husband and I
Dark Romance ?
Part 2 (Episode 18)
~ Mary’s POV ~
The sun was shining through the windows, lighting up the place I call my home. Despite the brightness, it felt dark; gloomy.
Most days I could hear the children outside my windows, playing with the sprinkles. Their giggles reached my ears, making me smile. And as their laughter continued until the late afternoon, when they were called home, I couldn’t help my thoughts, wondering if I had had a child, would they have fun? And when the dreamy thought came to my mind, I pushed it away.
That was the past, but why couldn’t I let it go?
It didn’t help that—along with my solemn thoughts, John had continued to avoid me. He’s even taking extra measures to pretend I didn’t exist. And when we lay in bed, he would turn the other way. I tried not to show how hurt I was, but often I’d find myself leaving the room to go into the bathroom and cry silently. And as I wept, I couldn’t help but ask myself.
Is this my punishment? My penance?
I knew I shouldn’t cry over something so silly. I hurt and angered John by saying no to having children. Though he refused to acknowledge it, I knew. Maybe I should’ve said yes, but then I would still be miserable, pretending to want a baby and constantly having segz that I don’t enjoy. Just for me to sneak off in the middle of the night to take a plan B pill.
The fact that I did that for months was pure insanity. But I had a feeling that if I said no, then — well, I’d be in the situation that I’m in now.
Although John and I were in a rough patch, Abbey and I wasn’t. In fact, we’ve grown closer. Whenever John was at work and I didn’t have a client to attend to, Abbey and I would meet. The man was so nice, sweet, and thoughtful. He showed it every time we met through his actions and words.
Despite us keeping the friend boundary in place, I have noticed the times when his eyes lingered. I felt the burn of his gaze each time we greeted one another. And the times I would have to leave, he didn’t want to go.
I knew it was wrong of me to continue seeing him. But he was providing something John hadn’t in such a long time.
Happiness.
Unadulterated happiness. Although I tried to fight the feeling, I couldn’t escape my want for Abbey. Am I wrong to say he has treated me better than my husband?
That I wish he was my hus..No. No, I shouldn’t. Don’t go there, Mary.
I was losing my mind. A large part of me wanted to stop seeing him. I knew that I should fall victim to a broken heart. A shaky breath escaped me, a surge of anxiety rushing forth at the thought.
What is wrong with me? I asked myself this question every day, wishing that I didn’t feel this way. Wishing that I never met the man who calls me his friend. Though each time he greets me with those words, I thought of someone else.
Someone else.
No, no, no! It’s bad enough I’m fantasizing about one man behind my husband’s back and to add another to the list… A man I didn’t know his name. I was really silly; so silly that when I sleep, I think about that night. How his hands clung to my waist, guiding me as we danced. Wishing I had ground my hips harder on the man just to feel the print beneath his trousers.
God! That man was handsome, and he smelled so good. I remember doing my best to make sure he hadn’t noticed me sniffing him as I lay my head beneath his shoulder. The man was cute, like Abbey in a way except he was darker and seemed to have more muscles, judging by the thickness of his thighs, arms, and chest. He wasn’t massive, but he was a solid man.
A man I was sure that’s capable of getting down with any woman. He was also charming and infuriating at the same time. Yeah, I was positive he found someone to have segz with that night. Not that I wanted us to be intimate anyway.
I said as much to Confort when we got back to her place. She seemed to have been having a ball as I shared myself for grinding on a stranger.
“I told you to have fun, not segz it up on the dance floor!” she laughed.
“Comfort.” I sighed, yet baffled by my actions. I’ll blame it on the alcohol if John ever finds out which he won’t.
“Cheer up, we’re home,” she chuckled, then went towards her room. “You can put your ring on now. I’m going to wash this sweat off my body!”
And when she left, I looked toward my ring. I remember how I felt as I looked at it. The small ring glinting in the light beckoned me to put it back on. I stood there, staring at it, wondering what a married woman shouldn’t. But then I pushed through my hesitancy because I love my husband I would do almost everything for him if he asked.
He never had to beg me. I would always give wh@ťěver he wanted; wh@ťěver he desired.
Yet it was never enough. I was never enough. And so before I slid the ring on my finger, I put it down again —using my other hand to cover my mouth as a sob bubbled up. Maybe I was just drunk or high on adrenaline. I wasn’t sure.
But I could have sworn I felt a piece of me wane as if tired. So, after a brief moment of weakness, I thought about listening to it.
***
Now, here I sit, weeks later, sitting across from my husband eating the dinner I just made. Fiddling with my wedding ring, hearing him eat while I didn’t bother with my plate. I wasn’t hungry. My appetite was long forgotten as the house become soggy since his arrival. I glanced up, looking at the man I call mine. I cleared my throat once, twice, to capture his attention.
Once the noise of his fork stopped scrapping the plate, I knew I had his attention, so I asked him.
“Do you still love?”
Silence.
The air was too tense to move or even breathe. Seconds ticked by as I awaited his answer. I saw him shift in his seat as he met my stare head-on. Neither of us broke eye contact as I stared at him hopefully while he looked on, blankly.
Suddenly, he stood up from his chair and made his way over to me.
My heart thumped painfully against my chest as he walked toward me. His steps shuddered against the floor. And Just when he reached me, he chose to walk past, taking my hope with him. I squeezed my eyes tight —angry with myself for thinking he would…
“Are you coming or what?”
Huh?
I turned in my seat, staring at him wide-eyed. He stood waiting on the steps for me to join him. Looking at me suggestively and my heart did a flip. Some part of me knew I was being foolish to follow, but he was my husband. I love him. And so, with nerves fluttering in my belly, I got up and went toward him.
When I reached him, he grabbed my hand and led us into the room, where he had his way with me for however long he wanted. Something I don’t even enjoy.
Then, after he finished, he lay for a while before he rolled over onto his side and fell asleep.
That night, I stared at the ceiling with his seed still coating my thighs, crying silently. For the first time, I lay there, wishing to be loved by anyone who wasn’t my husband. And when my lashes fluttered closed that night, I knew that there was no point.
I didn’t deserve to be loved, anyway. At least, those were the words, he said once he came inside me.
My mind was now focused on meeting with Abbey the following day. I can’t wait to see him. I was able to fall asleep that night by thinking about him.
To be continued…
Frank The Writer