Rena: Code 143

3.1

 The sun was shining today through the windows, lighting up the place I call my home. Despite the brightness, it felt dark; gloomy. A few weeks passed as the summer began, the weather becoming hotter each day. It was the perfect time to go outside and enjoy the summer air. Most days I could hear the children outside my window, playing with the sprinklers. 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 as much fun? And when the dreary 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, Kenny has continued to avoid me. He's even taken 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 Kenny 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 sex 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 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 Kenny and I were in a rough patch, Nicolaus and I weren't. In fact, we've grown closer. Whenever Kenny was at work and I didn't have a client to attend to, Nick 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. Felt the burn of his gaze each time we greeted one another. And the times I would have to leave, he didn't want me to go. I knew it was wrong of me to continue seeing him. But he was providing something Kenny hadn't in such a long time.

Happiness.

Unadulterated happiness. Although I tried to fight the feeling, I couldn't escape my want for Nicolaus. Am I wrong to say he's treated me better than my husband? That I wish he was my hus-No. No, I shouldn't. Don't go there, Rena.

I was losing my mind. A large part of me wanted to stop seeing him. Knew that I should because if I didn't-If I don't stop... I would fall victim to a broken heart. A shaky breath escaped men, a surge of anxiety rushing forth at the thought. What is wrong with me? I ask myself this question every day. Wishing that I didn't feel this way. Wishing that I never met the man who calls me his pretty stranger. Though each time he greets me with those words, I've begun to think of something 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 don't know the name of... I really am a terrible woman. So terrible 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 his print beneath his pants. God, that man was handsome, and he smelled so damn 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 perfect, like Nicolas in a way. Except he was a black man that seemed to carry more muscle, judging by the thickness in his thighs, arms, and his chest. He wasn't massive, but he was a solid man. A man I was sure that's capable of getting with any woman. Plus, he was charming and infuriating at the same time. Yeah, I was positive he found someone to have sex with that night. Not that I wanted us to be intimate, anyway. I said as much to Wren when we got back to her place. She seemed to have been having a ball, as I shamed myself for grinding on a stranger.

"I told you to have fun, not sex it up on the dance floor!" she laughed.

"Wren," I sighed, yet still baffled by my own actions. I'll blame it on the alcohol if Kenny 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 beckoning 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 hesitance because I love my husband. I would do almost everything for him if he asked. He never had to beg me. I would almost always give whatever he wanted; whatever 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 off adrenaline. I wasn't sure. But I could have sworn I felt a piece of me wane as if... tired. So, for 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 long forgotten as the house become sodden since his arrival home. 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 it.

"Do you still love me?"

Silence.

The air was too tense to move or even breathe. Seconds ticking by as I awaited his answer. I saw him shift in his seat as he met my stare head-on. Neither of us breaking 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 shuddering against the floor. And just when he reached me, he chose to walk past toward the stairs, taking my hope with him. I squeezed my eyes tight. Angry with myself for thinking he'd-

"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 upstairs. Where he had his way with me for however long he wanted. Then, after he finished, he lay spent 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 laid 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.

Sometimes when I write, I literally sit back and just say, "Damn, I'm cruel." Sorry for the late update :( I'm putting something toegther for the story. Thank you for reading!