SHE HIRED A HONEYTRAP TO CHECK HER HUSBAND'S FIDELITY

The phone vibrates and Benson quickly presses to silence it. He looks by his side to check if the wife is awake. He then slowly moves out of bed and into the second room and stands at the far end near the window and now holding his phone near his right ear. He is in a conversation with someone. Stella sneaks by and stands just near the door and she could hear Benson speaking on call. “Yes, I’ll be there. I am on my way.” He then peeps through the window then takes back the curtain and looks back. “Where do you think you are going at 3 a.m.?” Stella asked, looking shocked and with a surprise look. “Honey I… I need to go to help my friend”, Ben said in hesitation as he held his wife’s hand, then quickly moved away from her. “What? Have you…look at your watch?” she continued. “Yeah, I know it’s not a good time, I am aware of that, but I have to be there, I am really needed there, so I have to go.” Ben continued. “But you have your laptop with you at home and you can be working like usual. I think you will be much more comfortable in bed, come on”, as she tried to drag him, but Benson wasn’t ready to get back to bed. Benson’s phone vibrates again and then another tone on a handset he was holding in his hand. A pop-up message came in, he tries to hide from her, “What? Who is texting you? Why are you hiding this from me?” she was growing angry. “Of course nothing. I don’t hide anything from you. That’s it, I for sure need to go.” He pleaded with her, but he realized she wasn’t ready to accept. “I have to run, go back to sleep, sweet dreams.” He said to her as he rushed to the door. “Wait, wait.” She tried pleading with him but then he just disappeared from the door and into the streets. The soft morning rays peeped through the curtains to shower the room with a warm glow. Stella stood beside the drawer, her hand stretching for something in the drawer but the fingers hesitating as if in suspension. Sourly, she retreated and put the rag on the floor. She grabbed her phone, her fingers scrolling through it in a state of deep concentration. She seemed to be drawn by an unseen power and found herself right in the middle of the room. The mirror beside her portrayed the best of her, highlighting her long, gorgeous blonde hair. There she was appearing to be standing still in wide-eyed contemplation, her eyes distant and her thoughts wandering. The door creaked and Benson stepped in warily on tiptoe. He closed the door carefully while his eyes met hers. "From where are you coming from?" Stella inquired, her voice showing a mix of curiosity and suspicion. She had her phone in one hand and the other hand on her waist. Benson had no words, only a long pause that seemed endless and stretching. He stepped forward with downcast eyes and taking off his blazer. "There was an emergency," he finally said, his voice dreary and tired. "He called me to the crime scene." "An emergency?" Skepticism was quite clear on Stella's face. "Wow! And what have you been doing at the Michelin hotel?" Quickly she showed him her phone with her finding on the screen. Benson scanned through her phone without hesitation and his face seemed to be caught in a momentary struggle. He glanced again but it hardly brought any clarification to him. Stella's tone grew sharp. "You can call it a situation of emergency," she emphasized in a sarcastic tone. "Are you stalking every one of my steps?" Benson retorted, his delivery tinged with a bit of irritation. Stella kept on looking him straight in the eye. "All right, what were you doing there?" Her question suddenly became palpable, obvious and desirous of answers as it hovered in the air. "Makeup smearing on people's clothing is an unusual emergency we had," Stella added bitterly. Benson more and more grew frustrated and he began to cast aspersions on her, “are you insane? Do you realize what you are talking about?” Stella was upset and pointed to his shirt, which had a stain on it. “And what about the shirt?” “Was I supposed to take it off because it’s a fancy shirt?” Benson’s anger increased and he challenged her. “You have lipstick on your neck,” Stella continued in desperation. The patience in Benson was dry, irritability apparent on his face. He grasped her phone, typed a message, then pushed it back to her. Stella's glistening eyes almost burned his face, yet her look was charged with wrath. "A guy was murdered absolutely mercilessly," Benson started saying, his voice full of the heavy sound. He walked by, then turned around towards Stella. “The girl got emotional about what had happened to their loved one, she must have left it when she hugged me as a thank you” he continued. “I just thought,” Stella was confused, not knowing she had been manipulated to doubt her initial judgment. Benson continued talking to her to make her doubt herself completely, “you women make things up and then get offended by that.” He then smiled at her, then said, “honey you know me, I just can’t say no to people who need my help.” Stella believed his version of what happened as he explained. Her husband made her not even trust herself. The man’s intelligence was top-notch. He gained complete control over her. This was disgusting manipulation and emotional abuse, experienced panic attacks. What I know is that gas lighters do this to keep one close as long as they are beneficial to them, but as soon as they get bored, they will look for another. Benson used his mind-tricks to make her think of her mistakes. The look on Stella's face was expressionless, revealing that she was in awe of what she was hearing. Benson slipped his key-ring off his finger and placed it next to his empty water glass and uttered some comforting words. "Nah, relax. They're inexperienced. Moreover, the evidence is obscure to find." With Stella's suspicions slightly gone, she walked towards him. Benson questioned her concerning his infidelity and she gave him a response that was full of kindness but at the same time sobering. In a soft second, his hand came near, the tips of his fingers caressed her jaws, his pair of lips locking with hers. He threw his coat aside, sauntered to the sofa, and took his seat. "I will…” as she pointed to the shelf.” How about if I can do it instead," Stella smiled, warmth in her tone. She passed the open door to the kitchen and was swallowed by its depth. However, with Stella's figure fading gradually, Benson's relief liberated itself. Face to face with this controversial struggle, he continued to vent his feelings of frustration in his low, unnoticed voice, "Luisa is going to ruin my marriage. How do you even call her your friend? And how dare she hug me in that hotel?" He thrashed his fist against the wall, the confounding rage thrusting him towards the bedroom. Sunbeams surrounded the edges of the curtains, imparting a warm ambiance to the entire dining space. Stella elastically held the bottle and two glasses as well as a loaf of bread in her hands. The motion to the other end of the potted plant distracted her with the sound of steps, which gave her an instant reaction to look at the staircase. Her husband was coming down the stairs, her sight of him refreshed her smile at once. "Hi babe," she replied with her warm soft-spoken voice. "Breakfast is ready! Please sit and let me serve you." He advanced towards her and nestled his left arm in her back. However, his remarks were coupled with an edge of frustration. “Yeah, honey, I’ve got a ton of things to take care of at work”, he pecked her on the cheek. "No. I have just missed the bus. I really have to get to work on time." Hands went to Stella’s mouth in shock and her heart fell. She had to grip the drawer to hold her balance. Her eyes revealed a duality between bewilderment and slight irritation, a slight change in cross. "And what do you mean you're late, baby? I woke up unbelievably early only to prepare you something special for breakfast." She kept her voice low, almost trembling. "But, how about we eat breakfast together soon? My dear, wouldn't you agree that it is a long time since we have eaten together?” He gazed at her, their eyes transmitted a great ordeal without a word. "Hang on, please, I'm really sorry," he stared with a strange mixture of remorse, understanding and acknowledgment. A sigh sneaked out of his mouth, and he cast a glance at his watch, a chance to signal the running time. Stella's disappointment could be felt, actually. He was leaving home early these days and returning in the wee hours. And the pretense of it was gnawing at her. A cloud had settled between them. "But listen to me," he added as if to emphasize the point, the determination in his voice being unmistakable. “I will work in the office and come here no later than 7 pm. Let it be on me for this. We will go out, just the two of us. We will go out for dinner." Her eyes were filled with a bit of doubt and a good amount of love. She looked at him, but in her gaze you could see both doubt and longing. He put his two hands on her face. He silently wanted to reconnect though his touch was tender and yet sincere. "Please," he pleaded in a soft voice, not knowing if she was going to agree or not. He looked straight into her eyes, trying to express his feelings with her. "I'm sorry."He moved close, their foreheads almost touching in a symbol of intimacy between them. "Okay, then, 7 pm," he smiled and touched her. "And be sure to be sexy."His lips briefly touched her forehead in a chaste kiss and took a step back, seeming to vanish, as he left the dining room. Stella saw him off, her hand on her hips. Her mind was a whirl of emotions, a combination of feelings, confused as the scent of a memory. As he went away from sight, the impact of the talk they had lingered. A hopeful promise was suspended in the air, which represented the possibility of mending the rift. Stella's eyes followed the path he had taken. As she contemplated the night that was ahead and the strings which held them together, Stella felt fragile. The sky slowly went dark as the living room was now lit up with the dim light of the flat screen TV. Stella sure had no more fun watching the movie on the screen. At that instant, she paced up and down the room in an emotional quest, her fingers casually following a floral curve displayed on the tabletop. The jet black dress she had chosen fitted her long black tresses, the symbolism of love and care that she had preoccupied with at the time. The door opened and Benson came in with his large shape framed by a massive black jacket and on his shirt was a prominent white badge. In her voice, Stella connected a combination of inquisitiveness and anxiety as she asked him about the reason for his coming too late. The light in her eyes held a shade of inquisition. Her gaze at his eyes explored the answers. Those eyes rose up to hers, heavy with fatigue but burning brightly with the same intensity. As he said, "there is a lot of happening on my plate right now, baby, I apologize, the delay is my fault". The tone of his words was one of remorse, self-disappointment clear. “Things are quite hectic for me at the moment, so I will not make lots of commitments, and why are you dressed up at this time?” He continued. Benson's question impelled Stella to look down, confusion reflecting on her face then. "You want to know why I am all dressed up?” Her tone was hiding a slight bit of confusion. She responded, "Well, you asked me to." She seemed to be in the gap between his previous request and the current one. A look of contriteness came over Benson's face when he had a realization of his blunder. " I Love you, honey," he replied, his hand slightly touching her, pulling her to a tight hug. "I got so engulfed in my work and soaked in the ambiance that time ceased to exist." He caressed her, communicating his regret through his gesture. It was a combination of empathetic understanding on Stella’s part and emotional compassion. "Don't worry," she said with her eyes soft and meaningful, "you don't need to apologize." Stella’s voice had a vague timbre to it, which could only be described as comforting. Let's choose a different time to do it. Benson meant business when these words came out of his mouth. "I will correct my mistake, after all," he affirmed with a serious tone in his voice. He was to fulfill that oath by getting rid of any gap his heavy schedule might have opened. A moment of anxiety flashed through Stella's eyes as the obvious tiredness in Benson's look made her a tad bit nervous. "Are you hungry? You can get something to eat”, she said with that special blend of concern and thoughtfulness. It was his affirmative response that created a stimulus in her to get up and head to the kitchen. Alone in the living room, Benson peeked at his watch, a grieved expression on his face forming. "She won't stop with the questions, will she?" he muttered to himself, and his voice conveyed a moment of despondency. The depth of his duties and the day’s matters had a cumulative effect, resulting in a heavy weight on his shoulders.