Betrayal

 

My wedding gown! It still looks as beautiful and as magical as it did on the day of our wedding. Twelve years ago, on this day. The memory of me wearing it and walking down the aisle to marry the love of my life is still fresh in my mind. I carefully put it on, before I begin doing my hair. The same style as I wore on our wedding day. I've already done my make up. Again, just like it was done on our wedding day.

As I get ready, I glance over at our three children lying in bed. Two sons and a daughter. They look so peaceful.

I think about what the initial years of our marriage were like for George and I. We didn't have much money. In fact, we lived paycheck to paycheck. My paycheck, as he had quit his job to finish law school. Around the time George finished his education and found a job at a reputed law firm, our oldest son was born. By the time he was two years old, my husband was making enough money that I could quit my job.

I became a stay at home mom, and soon after our five year anniversary, I was pregnant with our daughter. I was so blissfully happy.

The first time it happened, or at least the first time I caught him, was on our daughter's second birthday. When the party was over, and the children and their parents had gone home, I cleared out all the decorations and headed upstairs to take a shower, assuming my husband was still in the yard, playing with our kids. I was about to enter the shower when I remembered I had left my cell phone in my son's room. As I was expecting a call from a friend, I went to get it.

I opened the door, the sight before me made me nearly collapse to the floor. My husband, the father of my children, was fucking the nanny. Right there on the floor of our son's room.

I began to scream and cry. I asked him how he could do this to us!

The children were still playing in the yard, and thankfully, didn't hear any of this.

George apologised over and over again. He didn't mean for me find out, he said. This was nothing but sex. He was just having a little fun, it didn't mean anything.

He said all this as I sat on the floor and cried eyes out.

Some of my friends told me I should leave. But I didn't. I couldn't let my family, my beautiful family get torn apart.

I decided to forgive my husband.

After months of marriage counselling, our relationship seemed to have recovered. To add to our joy, I was pregnant again. When I gave birth to our third child, another boy, I thought nothing could tear us apart now.

Four months later, I noticed George was spending less and less time at home. It was his secretary this time. He had been seeing her in an apartment he owned. One that I didn't know he had bought.

I confronted George. I cried my eyes out. I asked him how he could do this!

Never again, darling. He had said to me, before presenting me with an exquisite piece of jewellery.

The third time I caught him, he fell to his knees. He begged my forgiveness. He bought a new home for us. He took us on a luxury cruise. He showered me with jewellery. All that extravagance, all those expensive pieces of metal and minerals could fix just about anything, right? Right?

I'm wearing every single one of those pieces right now. As I sit in front of the mirror in my wedding dress.


George had changed, I told myself. He just made a few mistakes, I told myself as we celebrated our ten year anniversary. Like the loving and caring father and husband that he was, George showered me and our children with affection.

We had made it. Things were fine now.

The fourth time I caught George was at that apartment he had bought years ago. The one he had purchased to entertain his mistresses. The apartment he never got rid of.

I walked into the bedroom to find my husband in bed with my little sister.

This time, he didn't apologise. Didn't try to explain. He just seemed annoyed that I had caught him.

Why couldn't I just leave well enough alone, he had asked. Why did I have to snoop around? Why couldn't I let him have his fun in peace? He made good money, didn't hit me, kept me in luxury. What more did i expect. Besides, I just sat at home all day. While he was the one who worked hard. He had every right to enjoy himself with other women if he so pleased.

I just stood there and listened. I listened as George told me how I needed to be a good wife and stop pestering him over a little casual sex. How it was natural for him to be attracted to younger, more beautiful women.

As I stumbled out of George's apartment, I glanced at my sister. My sister who couldn't look me in the eye.


For the next two years, I was on autopilot. I cooked, planned parties, raised our children, and turned a blind eye to my husband having his fun.

Was is right? Was George a bad husband? Were his affairs justified?

I didn’t ask myself any of these questions. I just kept doing what good wives do.

The children didn't understand why their mother sometimes bled from her arms. They would ask if I had fallen. I would smile and tell them yes, Mommy was just clumsy.

I concealed the fact that watching myself bleed was now one of the few comforts in my life. That the physical pain helped me ignore the emotional one. Watching the blood flow down my skin makes me smile.

Their father, of course, doesn't notices. The marks on his wife's body don't interest him. Why would they? When he could have his pick of younger, hotter bodies.

Today is our twelve year anniversary. Yesterday, just before going to bed, George told me that he was going on vacation with his mistress. No, not my sister. She was dumped in just a few months. This one is new. He would be leaving this evening with her, and would return the following week.

I reminded him that it was our anniversary.

So? He had asked without looking up from his phone.

I told him the kids are looking forward to us celebrating as a family.

He told me to tell then it was an important business trip. We can celebrate when he gets back. Without looking up from his phone.

I began to cry.

Don't break the kids' hearts George. I begged him.

He looked at me. Annoyed and disgusted.

He had been working hard all day, he said. Why did he have to deal with my tantrums after a long day at work.

Then he turned off the lights and went to sleep.

I sat on the bed as my tears flowed.

I glance over at our children again. So peaceful they look. Exactly as though they are asleep.

The poison was expensive. But considering it was tasteless, odourless and caused no suffering of any kind, it was worth it.

I had mixed it in a molten chocolate lava cake. Their favourite. The kids' eyes had lit up when they saw it, and I told them they could eat as much as they liked.

They loved it. How happy they were as they enjoyed their cake.

I walked over to them and touched each of them gently. Their little bodies were a stiff now. Rigor Mortis was setting in.

I looked at myself in the mirror one last time as I heard George's car pull up in the driveway.

I can hear him calling my name as he ascends the staircase.

I'm waiting for him just a few feet away from the door and just as he opens it, I place the barrel of the gun at my temple and pull the trigger.

The last thing I see before darkness engulfs my vision is the look of horror on his face.

The blood will probably stain the floor and maybe has even spattered on the clean bed cover.

Oh well. That's not my problem anymore.