YOU COULD HEAR IT FROM a mile away. Rage simmered just beneath the surface of the small woman's brown skin, exuding from her pores. Closing her eyes, Zyanna opened the door the master bedroom. He sent a backward glance at the sound of the door creaking, catching sight of her.
Deeming her unworthy of acknowledgement, he went back to who he was doing. Dumbfounded, Zyanna took stock of the scene before her. Here was her husband pounding away at woman, who shamelessly moaned his name. As if, he were not in their bed.
As if she were a mere phantom.
Words eluded the stricken woman, horror enveloping her in a thick fog. Has he no shame? She thought to herself. She received her answer as he reached his climax, pulling out of her.
“Get out.” He stated tonelessly. Happily the woman complied, a pleased flush to her.
No. Shame is something he does not have.
“Will you stand there forever, Zyanna? Dinner is in thirty minutes and you've been here for ten,”
Helplessly, Zyanna sighed.
“You're not even going to make an excuse?”
Finally looking up at her, he smirked, confusion on his face.
“Excuse for what? You found out now, you know I have some women in the side. Now about dinner—,”
Dinner. This man was talking about dinner. Her blood boiled over, fury ignited. Love couldn't cover this. It just couldn't.
“What do you mean now I know?” She stated calmly, caressing her ring. “How long has this been happening?”
“Since we got home from our honeymoon, why?” His nonplussed attitude scratched at her wounds.
“That was three years ago. Three years ago—” She stopped.
Hysteria took over her, the magnitude of her husband's betrayal hit her. Three years. They'd been married for three years. He had been cheating on her the whole time.
Then again, she knew. She knew he didn't love her. And somewhere inside, she knew he was cheating. Love didn't just make her blind; it made her blind, deaf, dumb and stupid.
She had his kids. She took care of him. Cooked him breakfast lunch and dinner, washed his clothes, ironed his shirts.
She was his wife, yet everything in skirt reaped the benefits.
“You don't find that, I dunno—wrong?” Gone was the soft spoken woman he'd molded her into.
Raul glanced up at his beautiful wife. He was grateful, he really was. She did take care of him, provided him heirs. But honestly, did she expect him to be with just her.
The very thought was laughable. Raul needed more than one woman. While Zyanna was a good wife, a great lay, an excellent mother, exclusivity was never possible. Not for him.
Cold and aloof in his treatment of her, as always, he regarded her once more.
“Zy, dinner?”
That did it. Silently, she stepped further into the room, fighting not to gag at the smell of sex, she calmly went to the closet, opened it.
Curiously, Raul studied his wife as she retrieved a suitcase, threw clothes in it. Whatever could she be doing with that, he thought curiously.
She flitted to the bathroom, the nightstand. Each time she opened a drawer, a door, she got something out. It began to dawn on him. Quietly, he laughed to himself. She was trying to leave. How cute.
“Què pasa, Nena?” Raul smiled, amused.
That smile fell when his wife said nothing. Soon, his gorgeous brown skinned wife was leaving their room, leaving the suitcases she'd packed behind.
Deciding to follow her, he strutted behind her, into the twins room. Again, drawers opened, clothes, snacks, diaper bags were packed.
A waver ripped in Raul's confidence. Maybe she just needs a little attention.
Agreeing with that idiotic thought, he came behind her, peppering kisses on her neck. This should calm her down, he smirked.
Not a second passed before she smacked him away, batting him away like an annoying mosquito.
Raul frowned.
“C'mon Nena,” he coaxed, his tone skimming on the surface of her skin like silk. “Let me make it up to you.”
His lips met air, Zyanna stepped out of his arms.
“You think,” she gritted, “You're going to touch me, after you just fucked another woman.”
It was not a question, it was statement. She knew he did—he'd find out soon enough that he was wrong.
“Nena,” Raul tried again, “She doesn't mean anything to me, none of them do. You wear my ring, you had my kids, you have my last name—”
“You can take it back,” Zyanna sneered furiously. “All of it. The ring, your name. I'm not staying here.”
That statement sent the man sputtering to a stop, trying to rationalize this new development.
She'll be back, he concluded. She can't live without me. She loves me.
“You don't mean that, Nena.”
Now it was her turn to smirk.
“Believe what you want.”
Paying him no never mind, she continued packing, hurrying to put everything in her car. Exhaustion hung over her heavily, but she carried the two toddlers to the car with the last of her strength.
Now, Raul began to panic.
“Where do you think you're going?” He demanded.
Crickets greeted him.
Brushing past him into the house, she retrieved her phone, clenching her jaw. Surveying the house one last time, she couldn't help but feel disgust.
How many of these surfaces had her husband screwed a woman on?
The couch? The table? The room their children played in? The sofa they sat and had movie nights on?
Every memory was contaminated, infected with her husband's infidelity. There was nothing for her in that house.
Stepping out if the door, she came face to chest with her husband. His brown eyes blazed, his sharp jaw clenched, hands balled into fists.
Looking at her husband one last time, she memorized him. Then, she pushed past him, sitting in the driver's seat of her car.
“I'll have my lawyer contact yours with the divorce papers.”
With that, she shut her car door, backed out of the driveway, and drove away without a second thought.
Raul stared unseeing at the dust cloud that was left in her wake. Blinking back his wits, he shook his head, turning around he went into the house, slamming the door behind her.
She'll be back, he assured himself. She'll have to come back.
In the meantime, he called a woman to replace her.
