Shattered vows

It is every woman’s dream to be married and have children. For me, my downfall began when I got married. That’s the thought that popped into my head as I looked at myself in the mirror. As I stared at my reflection, I asked myself: “Do I look pretty enough for him?”. I went back and forth in the kitchen, hoping the chicken I made for you wasn’t burned. When opening the oven, I was met with a delightful surprise: the chicken was nice and golden, just how you like it. I took a glance at the clock; 9.30. You should be home any minute now. I quickly got the table ready, lit up the candles and went back to the mirror. My make-up and hair are still in its place, thankfully. My long brown locks were straightened and freshly washed. My brown eyes have a beautiful golden eye shadow on them, with a bit of eyeliner. My cheeks are rosy, but not too pink, giving me a natural glow. My lips have a beautiful dark red color on them. I trace the outline of my hips with my polished red fingers as I look at my dress. It’s a fitted black dress that hugs my curves beautifully. And it was all for you. Before my anxiety can take over my thoughts, I hear a car engine stop in front of the house. It must be you, I think to myself, while hoping and praying to God that you think I’m pretty enough, and you will like my cooking. I hear a key in the key frame and my stomach instantly fills with butterflies. With my black and red stilettos, I run across our apartment to the kitchen, so I could pretend I wasn’t pretentiously looking at myself in the mirror, because I know you don’t like pretentious women. I turned my back to the door because I was anxious to see you, and I was scared of your reaction. The front door opens, and I start feeling lightheaded, gripping the kitchen counter, so I wouldn’t fall. And then… nothing. I turned around and saw no one. Feeling confused, I leave the kitchen and look for you. And surely, there you were in the bedroom, taking your shoes off. “Hi honey”, I greeted you, trying not to sound too desperate yet making my voice sound cheerful. Because you work in shifts, we barely see each other. When you work in the early mornings, you come home and sleep right away, so you can enjoy your afternoon with your family, who live in the city next door. When you work in the afternoon, you come home and want to enjoy your free time playing video games. When you work at night, you come home and sleep all day. Today, you worked in the afternoon, so I had all day to get ready for you. It has only been 3 months since we got married and 2 years since we’ve been together, yet we’ve already lost our spark. Before marrying you, you were one of, if not the most romantic man on this Earth. You would open doors for me every time we went on a date, would want to spend every waking second with me and call me all the time, and you loved gushing about me to your friends and family. It only made sense for me to marry you. But our relationship wasn’t always peaches and roses, especially since we'd gotten married. Your father had been in the drugs business ever since you were a child, and he got arrested and put in jail for 7 years in Morocco right before our wedding. It has been tough on you, but I stood by your side through it all. Remember how you would bring up your father multiple times in conversations? But you seemed to have made peace with your situation. Now, months after your father’s arrest, you bring up your father every waking moment of every day. You walk around plum and sad, and you don’t want to speak to me. I’ve done everything in my power to cheer you up, to be there for you and show you my support, but you have always blown me off, telling me you just want to be alone. As I look at you right now, I can’t help but wonder if you are still sad today or if you’re feeling better. Our eyes meet, and I feel instant happiness fill my body as I smile at you. You look at me up and down before saying “Hey, I feel exhausted, so I’m going to sleep. Do you mind taking the couch or should I?” My heart drops. It has been 3 weeks today since you shared a bed with me, and it looked like you weren’t planning on doing so any time soon. “Oh, I was hoping we could have dinner together. I made your favorite, you know. I don’t know if you can smell it. It’s roasted chicken with potatoes and…” But I’m interrupted right in the middle of my sentence. “Couch or bed, the choice is up to you.” Your face is firm, closed. I cannot read it, nor your eyes. You just look at me, waiting for an answer. Feeling my heart shattering piece by piece, I am mostly focused on holding back my tears rather than giving you an answer. The last time I cried in front of you was a month ago when you told me I was wearing too much make-up and that I should wipe all of it off my face, because you couldn’t be seen like that with me. I screamed angrily at you that you shouldn’t be talking to me like that because I was your wife and told you that I felt like you didn’t love me anymore, with tears streaming down my face. You looked at me, rolled your eyes and said that you were protecting me from other men, and that I should start acting like a grown woman instead of crying over everything. Ever since, I have vowed to myself that I would never cry in front of you. As my thoughts leave that memory, I realize I hadn’t answered you. I held my head high and answered “I’ll take the bed; you can take the couch. I’ll just have dinner by myself then.” I turned around, secretly hoping you would follow me. While entering the kitchen, I make myself a plate and wait for you. It seems like only yesterday we were desperately in love. We couldn’t go a day without speaking to each other, and we had to have a date every week. Our lips were always talking, laughing, or kissing. God, your kisses. They make me go weak to the knees. I close my eyes as I think back on those moments. My fingers travel to my lips as I caress them, imagining you kissing them with your beautiful, juicy lips. My favorite thing about kissing you was opening my eyes after our kiss and seeing your smile. I reopened my eyes, and I was back in my kitchen, at the kitchen table with my plate of chicken, potatoes and vegetables in front of me. The candles are now unlit, and the kitchen seems gray and empty. You didn’t come. I looked at my plate and pushed it away from me. The food needs to be stored in the fridge, because it looks like no one will be eating from it tonight. After I finished cleaning and storing everything, I head to the living room and surely there you were, the love of my life fast asleep on the couch. I stared at you and wondered why I loved you so much. I bent down to take my stilettos off, so I wouldn’t wake you and headed to bed. Taking my make-up and dress off, I put my hair in a bun and cried myself to sleep, again.