One Shots

anniversary | bryson tiller

I smiled when I finished all my paper work. I filed it all and put them in my folders in my desk before grabbing all my belongings and fast walking out of the office. I had to run down five flights of stairs because the elevator was out of order. I got to the packed garage that had over a hundred cars in it and slid inside my red SUV and quickly drove to my modern home in the suburbs.

As soon as I got home, I ran upstairs and quickly undressed myself. I was the average business woman. Worked a nine to five, came home, drank myself to sleep. The usual. But those weren't gonna be my plans today, today, July 16th is the marking of my two year anniversary with my husband, Bryson Tiller. It doesn't even feel like it. It still feels like we met yesterday at Walgreens, on the corner of happy and healthy.

I took a quick shower and put on my sexy lingerie, waiting on my husband of two years to walk inside the house. I checked the clock while I was putting cocoa butter on my body. It was almost 6:30. Bryson should be walking in at any minute.

I slid on my slides and went downstairs to the kitchen, pulling out his gift from under the sink, just a card, a framed picture of us, and new Nike snapback. Nothing too special because I'm gonna give him something tonight that he's never done.

I pulled out his food I had made him this morning, shrimp alfredo. He loved that stuff. He could eat if everyday.

I plugged my phone up to my Beats pill and started playing our favorite sexual songs. Privacy by Chris Brown was the first to play. I pulled the whipped cream, strawberries, caramel, and chocolate syrup out of the refrigerator and sat them on the counter.

I leaned against the refrigerator and waited for Bryson to walk through the door. Ten minutes passed, then 30, then an hour. Then three.

I gave up on my cute anniversary idea and just left his gift and his food on the table. I went upstairs and put on a pair of pajamas and my pink robe. I walked back down the stairs and saw Bryson right when he came in. I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall.

"I hope your day went well. There's your dinner." I pointed at the table. He made a face when he saw the present then looked at me.

"I'm so sorry..." He trailed off but I held my hands up. I was sick of hearing his lies and excuses. That's all he does. He lies to me more than he talks to me. He's been acting like that for a while now but I thought our anniversary would've changed that, guess I thought wrong.

"No it's fine. I'm sure whatever you were doing was way more important than your wife." I smiled. I was smiling on the outside but on the inside, I was beyond pissed. I was livid. Like how the fuck could he forget our damn anniversary? I'd see if we'd been married for twenty years, but two years? But 730 days? That's basically nothing. And it's literally two days away from my birthday. I guess that's why it's so easy for me to remember.

"I was stuck at the studio. But I promise, I'll make it up to you. I will make it up to you baby." He tried to walk closer to me but I held my hand out, not wanting him to come near me. I had heard, seen, and smelled enough.

"Studio huh?" I asked while eyeing his hickeys that ran down his neck. I looked down at his hoodie and grey sweats then scoffed. That's dick me down attire. Why do I think that? Because every time we fuck, he wears that before.

"Yeah. We ran a little late with the track." He scratched the back of his neck, trying to cover the hickeys but I already seen enough.

"Right, right. I didn't know that. That's crazy." I said while picking his bag up off the table. I looked down at the bag. I felt no emotion towards it.

"Know what?" He asked as I handed him the bag. I shook my head before running my hands through my twists. He was stressing a young girl out.

"Didn't know that Tim was gay." I referred to his producer, Timbaland. They worked on a lot together. He was always with him.

"He's not...Why would you think that?" He asked while digging the hat out of the backpack. His face lit up. He had every color Nike hat except pink. Every time he tried to go get it, it was either sold out or not in stock. But I got it for him, because I love him.

"Because of all those hickeys and your attire." I looked him up and down. His shoes were untied and on the wrong feet. A sign that he was somewhere his grown ass didn't need to be. "Nope, scratch that. Looks like you were with one of those damn groupies."

"Let's not start this now, okay?" He tried to reason with me by holding his hands up in surrender but I smacked him in the face.

"No we're gonna start this Bryson." I took my pearls out of my ears and put them in my robe pocket. "We are gonna sit right here and talk about how you cheated on me on our fucking anniversary." I said while making hand gestures after every two words. I was a business woman, but I'm also straight out of the hood. So I still have that hood mentality and a couple of other hood things in me.

"I'm not doing this." He rolled his eyes while sliding the hat over his hair. It actually looked really good.

"I just think it's funny how..." I said before he interrupted me. What he said after me, was like a slap in the face.

"I just think it's funny how I wifed a fucking hood rat." He shook his head and picked up the plate before walking to the door. "I guess the sayings were right, you can't turn a hoe into a housewife." He slammed the door behind him.

He always tries to turn everything on me. I walked back up the stairs and did something that I haven't done in years, cried.