The Truth Behind

III

I let out a big yawn and roll over, expecting to see my post drunken husband snoring next to me. Instead, I see nothing. It had become a routine for my husband to come home drunk and wake up with a hangover. Lately, he hasn't.

Yesterday went really well, shockingly. The other night he promised to change and so far I've noticed that he has. Granted, it has only been a few days but that's longer than he's ever gone sober since we got married.

I pulled off the covers, exposing my soft flesh to the cold air breezing in from the window. I slowly touched my feet to the cold ground, feeling for my slippers. I am certainly not a morning person so my eyes remain half closed until I fill my body with that bitter-sweet coffee that I oh-so love. I trudge over to the chair sitting in the corner of our cozy room where my warm, fluffy robe rests. I slip it on and make my way to the kitchen.

"Goodmorning, darling." My unrecognizable husband greets me as he reads the paper, sipping a cup of coffee that rested in his hands.

"It is, isn't it." I reply with a smile radiating off of my lips.

"I made you a cup." He says gesturing to the counter.

I plod over to the mug, still half asleep .

"Thank you."  He gives me a quick nod, implying a "you're welcome."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I strutted down the street corner, newspaper in my hand. It had been a few hours since I had left this morning and I needed to hurry back to do the dishes before he comes home for his lunch break.

I open the front door and step inside. Our black cat walks over and rubs against my leg as I take off my coat to hang it up.

As I take off my heels I notice a pair sitting next to the door. I examine them closely and come to the conclusion that they are not my heels.

"Honey, I'm home!" I yell, my voice echoing through the house.

I hear the sink run and then a voice shout from the kitchen. "Uh, in here!"

I make my way to the kitchen to see my husband standing there in nothing but a robe.

"Did you come home from work early? Are you coming down with an illness?" I walk over to him with a worried expression on my face.

I stop once I notice the two glasses of water resting in his hands. I look at him questioningly.

"Are you just really thirsty?" I ask as a sudden realization hits me, "Or is the other glass for someone else?" Anger starts to roll over me.

I stomp over to the front door to grab the heels. He follows behind, a guilty look plastered all over his face.

I lift them up and shove them in his face.
"Whose heels are these?!"

A more petite girl walks up behind him, wearing nothing but MY robe.

She gives me a glare and asks,
"Who are you?"