A marriage is like a rose; a romantic keepsake having the combination of thorns and petals. The red hue of the petals symbolizes love, and passion and is soft to touch. The thorns that lay on the stem, however, represent adversity and sacrifice.
De...
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Back to the present. .
I pulled the sheets over my head, squeezing my eyes closed. In a desperate attempt to fall asleep, I nearly forgot that I still had to heat Zayden's dinner.
My heart was heavy, carrying the weight of my sadness and confusion. They told me I was naìve, reckless, and delusional, never thinking things through and only acting on my emotions. Despite knowing it all, I had begun believing in myself, my decisions, and the man I chose to spend my life with.
But. . .
"That guy and his family have a past they're trying to erase. Why else do you think he married you without thinking twice?" The words echoed in my head like an endless loop.
. . .had I actually made a mistake?
I slowly walked towards the kitchen, my bare feet feeling the coldness of the floor, belonging to the house I no longer recognized. I curled up my toes, staring at the counter where we had shared a passionate kiss. It no longer felt real.
"Goodness, this is tiring."
I snapped back to reality.
I reluctantly turned back, meeting the strained eyes of the man before me. It took a second for him to look at me, and when he did, I was lifted from the ground.
"Now, where were we, love?"
Placed on the counter like once before, I studied his expressions, searching for signs of distraction, deceit, and... adultery. As his delicate yet firm fingers graced the bare skin of my thigh, I gulped, beginning to prepare for what the future held for both of us.
"You're beautiful, you know that?" He whispered to my ear, caressing my thigh and moving his other hand under my tee.
I took a deep breath, pulling away a little, "Who was it?"
"Huh?"
"Who called you just now?"
He frowned a little, resting his hands on my sides, "An annoying co-worker."
Co-worker, huh?
Silence filled the space between us, an overwhelming and uncertain one for some reason. He averted his gaze to the living room, pressing his lips together, "An intruding client."
"Have you known this client for long?"
"For many years."
"How do you know this woman?" I blurted, failing to conceal my desperation for answers.
He didn't seem to notice that I'd read her name on his phone. "Oh," He had a calculating look on his countenance, "Well, we were classmates back in college."
