Erotica Short Stories

Tinted Love 2

She was unsure of what to expect. And if she should expect something at all. In all those years she had leaned that expectations were rarely met and therefore having none was rather beneficial.

He had already left the house way before she woke up. His job was consuming most of his time and as his paycheck was growing, his time for her was decreasing significantly. Often she had asked herself if there was a nice, young lady at his office. Naive, youthful, innocent. Somebody who would be a reason to work from early in the morning till late at night. Mostly overtime. Something fresh, an adrenaline kick in his boring, routine-like life.

As she stepped into the kitchen she couldn't hide the disappointment from herself that there weren't any red roses on the table and that there was no sweet short note that read 'happy anniversary love'.
She scolded herself in her head.
She should have known. Why should this year be any different to the years before?

He hadn't changed. And neither has she. Right?

Her cup of coffee slowly turned cold as she was thinking about how things used to be. The midnight trips. The moonlight walks. The passion. The love.
The kisses on the forehead and the long warm hugs.

And she couldn't quite understand when it happened and how it happened. And what that 'it' actually was. She just knew that it felt like a lump in her throat, like a headache, like weight pushing her to the ground. Bitterness you might call it.

She shook her head to get rid of her thoughts. She left the coffee on the counter as she stepped outside with her car keys, breathing in the polluted city air. Only 10 hours she kept repeating in her head while turning the radio on full volume in her car to shake off her apathy.

---------------

She looked at the bright display of her mobile. No message. He had forgotten it. There was no other explanation. He had forgotten it just the way he had almost forgotten her birthday if her sister hadn't asked him for advice concerning her birthday present.
She couldn't stop the disappointment from creeping into her heart. 'He's just a man '. She tried telling herself. 'He'd make up for it'.

Another three hours later she contemplated calling him. Just to check up on him. Just to see what he was doing. But she wasn't able to press the button and in the end she reminded herself that they didn't do that anymore. They didn't call to check up on the other person. They didn't need to.

She didn't need to.

Everything was normal.

Everything was fine.

When the day was finally over, and she hadn't received any sign from him, she decided to act like every other day and not show him that he had hurt her. Because she was sure he had had a rough day at work and she defently wasn't in for a fight this evening. Maybe she could call some of her old friends and catch-up over a hot cup of coffee at the coffee shop at the end of the street?

But it was a Monday. They all surely were busy, so she stuffed her device back into her pocket after typing in 'Sophie' and staring at the smiling picture of her former friend for what felt like hours.

With a heavy heart she got into her car and drove home. As she turned the key, she texted him asking what he wanted for dinner and how his day had turned out.

His reply was short:

'Ravioli. Working overtime today. Don't know when I'm back. CU'