"Are you going to talk to me?" He said, following you into the kitchen.
Matt placed his hands on the counter, watching as you put a glass into the dishwasher before slamming it shut.
"What was all that, huh?" He asked, concerned as he watched your every move.
You leaned against the counter and folded your arms, giving him a death glare. Your eyes stared angrily at him, letting him know something was wrong and he knew it was his job to find out what was bothering you.
"The silent treatment" he shrugged, shaking his head. "Very fucking mature"
You scoffed and rolled your eyes.
"And leaving your family, your wife and kids, to go back to LA to meet with Laura" you began, waving your arms towards him, but you were cut off when Matt held up his hand to cut you off.
"I was working!"
"You're on a break!"
"She's my manager!" he said, defending the older lady who was dragged into the argument.
Matt slammed his hand down on the counter. Silence filled the room, before he sighed and ran his hand through his hair.
"And I'm your wife" your voice cracked as tears welled in your eyes.
You raised your hand and showed him your hand where your wedding ring was, reminding him that you'd been married for two years.
You looked up at the ceiling, acknowledging your children asleep in their beds. "And they're your kids, Matt"
"You tell me like I've forgotten-"
"It seems like you have"
Matt scoffed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know what it means" you tell him, suddenly regretting putting your wine glass in the dishwasher. You turned away from him and reached towards the cupboard, taking another glass out, when his hand pulled you away.
"I think you've had enough"
The sob that escapes your lips only increases your husband's worry further.
"Hey, look at me" he encouraged.
He dropped his hand to your elbow, taking it and prompting you to turn around. As you do, your glossy eyes expressing your heartbreak meet his sad ones.
"Babe?" He asked. "Where's this coming from?" Matt frowned. "This isn't how you act" he whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear.
You protested, gently swatting his hand away. Your eyes avert to the 'man cupboard' that every family home seemed to have. Of course, Matt hadn't seen what's inside for months since he hasn't been home.
Matt frowned and looked in the same direction as you, before he walked over to the cupboard.
When he opened it, he was met the typical things, bolts, screws, screwdrivers, booklets for local takeouts and chargers.
He quickly adds up the maths and resolves the reason behind tonight's outburst from you as the most recently added item is slowly taken within his fingertips. He unfolded it with caution, to reveal an image and a caption.
"Babe" he whisperers, as the image spoke louder than the headline. 'LA HOTEL FLING FOR STURNIOLO BROTHER'
It wasn't an accusation, it was a statement of both accusation and assumption that Matt was cheating on his wife with the girl he was pictured with.
"Fucking hell, babe" he groaned. "That-it's-it's not-" he stumbled over his words, aware of how bad it looked to anyone outside of the marriage, let alone to you.
