When did we stop laughing together?
Our mornings used to start with stolen kisses, not distant nods or good mornings, not this space between us at the dinner table that felt wider than the ocean.
I didn’t like this, but I couldn’t do anything about it.
Loving Ronald sometimes felt like trying to warm my hands on a dying flame; no matter how close I leaned, the heat was never enough. Every effort I made felt like pouring water into a sieve—nothing stayed, nothing changed.
He wanted to be promoted to head his department by the end of this year, which may have been taking his time and attention away from me.
Regardless of how hopeless it seemed, I had no option but to try; love, after all, deserved more than surrender. I told myself that if my love could survive his indifference, it could save us both. And if it didn’t work, then therapy would be my last card, but until then, I would keep trying my best.
The oven dinged, its sharp sound cutting through the quiet kitchen. I grabbed a pair of mittens and opened the oven, the warm scent of apple pie flooding the kitchen. And the pie’s juices bubbled at the edges, drawing a satisfied hum out of me.
Homemade apple pies were Ronald’s favorite breakfast food, and if waking early in the morning, barely before the sun was out, would pull a smile out of him, then it was so worth it.
And nope, I wasn’t doing this out of obligation because I was a homely wife, but out of a desperate hope that this small act might bring us closer.
I glanced toward the hallway, pie in hand, and called, “Honey, breakfast is ready.”
“Be right there,” he yells. Next thing, the sound of his shoes makes its way into the kitchen.
Even after all this time, I couldn’t help but admire him the way one admires a sunrise—inevitable, yet breathtaking. Dark, short hair framed his face perfectly—a striking contrast to the warmth of his deep brown eyes that could still hold me captive. The freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, which he despised, were my favorite details—tiny constellations I used to kiss every morning some time ago. And those wrinkles, the ones that deepened whenever he smiled, felt like treasures to me, etched proof of a life lived, of moments shared, even if they felt distant now.
Ronald kissed me on the cheek before whispering, “Good morning, honey.”
His tone was light, almost cheerful, a rare break from his usual hurried demeanor. As he sat down, he began to hum softly, a tune I couldn’t place but one that filled the kitchen with an unfamiliar warmth. He seemed to be in a good mood this morning, savoring each bite of the apple pie, his expression relaxed and content.
“Someone seems to be in a good mood this morning.”
“Mark says he wants to make an important announcement this morning, and I just feel good about it. You know that I’m about to become the head of the department after so many years.”
“I hope everything goes well.”
“Think we should celebrate it tonight?” he asked, throwing me a wink and a bright smile—one I hadn’t seen in what felt like an eternity. That type of smile once made me feel like the center of his world.
“I’m all for it.”
“That’s my girl,” he said as he smacked me on the ass when I walked by to sit near him.
See, I was right—once all this promotion stuff was behind him, my husband would return to the man I knew. The man who smiled at me like I was his whole world, who didn’t let work consume every corner of our lives. I just had to hold on a little longer.
For a while there, Martha had made me scared that he was having an affair, but I knew Ronaldo too much to believe in that cock-and-bull story.
“I’ll see you later tonight. Make sure to wear something sexy for me,” Ronald said, leaving the house with that.
The mission was successful, even if he didn’t eat much. Ronald hadn’t initiated a dinner date for us in what felt like an eternity. Even when I tried, he would grumble about being too tired or needing to prepare for another Zoom call. But today, the smile on his face was so bright and genuine that it felt good.
As I washed the dishes, I hummed with the birds outside and simultaneously broke into a bit of cha-cha dance—something I hadn’t done in ages. If Adele were here, she’d undoubtedly frown and tease me for being so terrible at it, but I didn’t care right now. The joy bubbling inside me needed an outlet, no matter how clumsy.
Tonight would be perfect. I’d make sure of it.
And for that to happen, I had to shave to look good down there. And, of course, I needed a dress that would wow him, something that would make his jaw drop. After all, he had asked me to look sexy for him, and I wasn’t about to disappoint.
I tugged my ponytail tighter, smoothing the band as loose strands tickled my neck. With a small, satisfied smile, I glanced at Martha and softly said, “You have just been proved wrong.”
Curious eyes stared up at me as she stretched on her mat. A brief silence lingered before she broke it, asking, “What do you mean?”
“My husband asked me on a date this morning.”
“And how does that prove anything?” She said with a tsk.
“Are you not getting it? He freaking asked me on a date with the happiest face I had not seen in a while.”
“My husband bought me a hundred thousand dollar Tiffany necklace a week before I caught his cheating ass.”
I shook my head and moved into a downward dog pose instead. Trying to convince Martha that Ronald wasn’t cheating on me, unlike her, was a lost cause. Nothing I said would change her mind.
“Tell me something. When was the last time he fucked you till you came and dripped all your juices out?”
“Tonight,” I said as smugly as I could. “He specifically asked me to look sexy for him.”
“That’ll be such a nice thing. Your husband is finally stepping up and being a good husband.” Martha said in a not-so-nice way as she transitioned into a warrior pose, her arms stretching wide and her palms open.
I ignored her jab and said, “Speaking of, why don’t you accompany me to shop for a nice dress? I don’t have anything decent, and I really, really want to make my husband look at me like he’s just looking at me for the first time.”
She nodded. “I hope things go well.”
There was a flicker of hope in her voice, and it was moments like this that made me realize that maybe one day Martha would return to the person she used to be—the one who believed in the sanctity of marriage, who thought love was the best thing that could happen to anyone. Not just sex or casual flings.
She used to be that kind of person—the type who was besotted with her husband until he cheated on her with a much younger woman.
“It will, for sure.”
Was it my nerves playing tricks on me, or what? Something inside me felt like things wouldn’t go well. I took a deep breath and blew it out, hoping whatever made me scared would leave with it.
Thankfully, the yoga instructor called for our attention, and training commenced. An hour later, my body was sore, but I felt good. The negativity lingering in me was still there, but the excitement and positivity buzzing through me overshadowed it.
Martha hadn’t said anything to me, but I could tell she wanted to. Her expression and how she opened her mouth, only to close it again, gave her away.
I would’ve asked her, but chances were high it would be something I didn’t want to hear.
“Reckon we grab dinner before going shopping?” she asked.
I nodded. It turned out I was famished.
We walked into the restaurant closest to the yoga studio, and as fate would have it—or not—it was where Ronald and I first met twenty years ago. He was a regular, and I was a part-timer. The owner back then had a ludicrous rule forbidding employees from having relationships with customers, but that didn’t stop us from falling for each other.
I used to think love at first sight was a made-up concept for people who wanted an excuse to screw each other quickly, but it happened to me. And the rest, as they say, is history.
Maybe that’s why I came here, despite the change in ownership and the food being far less impressive.
“The new waitress over there looks like a gold-digger slash dominatrix who’d drain a wealthy man of all his money,” Martha said, with no discretion, tipping her head toward a blonde woman standing behind the counter.
“Why would you say such a thing?” I asked, laughing.
“She has the look. See the boobs she just had done? And how she’s flaunting them for every man here to notice.”
“So getting your boobs done makes you a gold-digger now?”
“Not always the case, but in this case, yeah.”
“Judging people based on their looks is nasty, Martha.”
“Sorry, ma’am, I’m not a fan of ‘we listen, we don’t judge.’ I do judge.”
“You seem to forget she’s in a free country. She can do whatever she wants without giving a damn about what anyone, including you, thinks.”
“That logic applies to me, too. Freedom of speech and all.”
“Sometimes I wonder how I’ve stayed friends with you for five years when you’re this dirty-minded.”
“Easy. It’s because you’re just as dirty-minded as I, sweetheart.”
Just then, the blonde waitress sashayed to our table, her pleated black mini-skirt swaying with her hips.
“What can I get for you two?” The girl asked with a bright smile.
We ordered grilled chicken wraps with avocado, kale, and baked sweet potato fries with sparkling water. These were some of the few healthy options without completely sacrificing flavor.
“See? You were wrong. She’s a nice girl,” I whispered as the waitress walked away.
“Yeah, I wish I could say the same.” Martha wrinkled her nose in disapproval.
“Unless there’s something you’re not telling me, why are you hating on a poor girl you don’t know?”
Silence stretched between us as her face grew pale and her fingers tinkered nervously with her purse.
“There is something you’re not telling me,” I pressed, watching her closely. It was the first time in all the years I’d known Martha that she’d looked this shaken.
“What are you on about? I don’t even know the girl.”
Her denial was quick, but I wasn’t convinced. Martha never fidgeted like this, and she never turned so white.
Oh, there was absolutely something she wasn’t telling me, and I would be finding out. But before I could press her some more, the waitress arrived with our order, and the food was so surprisingly good that I decided to push her later.