For every sin, there shall be punishment.
For every punishment, one must repent in sincere penitence of sin.
To whom be the glory, forever and ever... Amen.
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"the inevitable discovery of what we would rather not know; the opposite of serendipity"
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𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍, 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐒 | 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑
Nicole was on schedule. Bey was home early. A fragile frown that could and practically would crack, depicting all of her simmering feelings that'd been stacking like cinder blocks for the last seven days which had begun to pile from the depths of her.
Starting at her toes. Her feet felt majestically heavy. The pair refused to bear and carry the imponderous weight of the Mrs, so she sat fixed on the woven cotton sofa with a hidden agenda behind the frown plastered on her face.
Then, her torso. It'd become as tight as suffocation; Suffocation she inevitably felt when the truth in all her suspicion and her wife's treachery revealed itself. Right in the core. The suffocating pain was sitting over heat for six days and on this seventh day, it was finally boiling over. Slowly but surely.
And of course, her head. What an amazing headache she'd sobbed onto herself as she took in the disbelieving truth oddly... quiet. Lenient. For the last week, it was only an inkling and there was a fifty percent chance that her intuition would fail her. Prove her wrong, prove Nicole's innocence and faithfulness — innocent. But the equivalent, opposing half beat the chances.
Nicole was not innocent.
Nicole wasn't faithful.
Nicole hadn't been faithful? In Bey's head and over and over to herself out loud in utter shock, she repeated at least one hundred times under her breath. She could not believe it, she did not want to believe it.
Nicole. Wasn't. Faithful.
The evidence lies right before her on her lap, staring back at her like it had a reason to. A stack of vivid candids of none other than Nicole and her mistress. Bey's chest burned towards the pictures. She'd been staring at them for so long, that the pads of her index fingers began to turn ghost white from the tight hold she gripped the pictures in with the two fingertips placed right at the very tips of the left and right corners of the glossy paper. Only when she'd removed her fingers before unintentionally stabbing a hole into her skin, she'd find them turning sickeningly red in the blink of an eye and place the stack under her left thigh.
Nicole would be walking into the home in no less than a minute now. Preferably home from work on time and well, all that Bey could think about was the possibility of her wife coming in from another rendezvous with her mistress. After all, she had been gone all morning and usually shows her face to her family at no less than six-thirty in the afternoon. Her last class ends at six o'clock and sometimes, five-thirty in the day on select days: Mondays and Fridays.
