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How can I resent the woman I married simply because she’s nother? I chose Karina. I’m the one that asked her to marry me and stood in front of all our friends and family and made a vow until death do us part. And many times, I’ve come close to breaking that vow.
We both need to be set free, but I’ve never been brave enough to do it. At least not until now.
Our ending has been a long time coming, and I’m ready for it. For years, I’ve fallen asleep with only one face in my mind. I’ve never cheated on Karina physically, but I’ve been cheating on her emotionally for years. I can’t lie and say I never loved her, because I did, and I do. I love her enough to know that we’re not right for each other, and it’s time I set her free and let her move on to find the one she does belong with.
Her soulmate.
I’ve already met mine, and it’s not Karina.
* * *
It’s now Saturday morning,and I’ve been awake all night tossing and turning, thinking about the conversation we need to have, but haven’t been able to come up with the right words to say.
I’m lying on the couch staring at the ceiling when I hear Karina walk into the kitchen and begin preparing the coffee pot. From where I’m positioned, I have a perfect view of her from our open-floor plan.
As usual, she’s completely dressed for the day, and there’s no sign of a hangover. If she is hungover, she doesn’t look it. But that’s Karina. She never lets her emotions be seen. Not even by me… the one person whoshouldsee them.
I watch her, part of me waiting to see if she’ll break and show any hint of what she feels on the inside. And the other part of me is being a coward and putting off the long overdue conversation.
With a sigh, I sit up, grow a pair of balls, and walk into the kitchen toward my wife.
“Good morning, honey.” She smiles, grabs a mug from the cabinet, and fills it with coffee before handing it to me.
“Morning,” I mumble, taking the mug and blowing into the steaming darkness of black coffee. It’s as black as my soul feels now. “We need to talk about last night.”
She holds up her hand and waves it. “I already plan to call Camille later and apologize. I won’t press charges against her either.”
I scoff. “Really, Karina? What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snap, setting my cup on the countertop with so much force the black liquid sloshes over the sides and drips on the white marble.
White.Everything in this house is white and fucking sterile looking. I hate it. It doesn’t even feel like a home.
“I don’t know what came over me. I got my period a couple of days ago, and I’ve just been in a rut ever since.” She sighs, smoothing her hair even though there isn’t a single strand out of place. There never is.
“Getting your period is no excuse to bring up her dead son. That was a low fucking blow. It was disgusting and cruel.”
“Are you going to ask if I’m okay? She hit me!”
“Violence is never the answer, but what did you expect? You poured salt on an open wound.”
“Are you fucking her?” she asks, her face stoic.
I laugh. I laugh right in her fucking face. “Are you serious?”
“I saw how you two looked at each other the night of the gala—and last night. There’s more to you two than just childhood friends.”Fuck.“Have you slept with her since we moved here?”
“Jesus, fuck, Karina. Are you serious? You sound ridiculous.” She nods, crossing her arms over her chest. “No! I have never once had sex with anyone else since we’ve been together. I’ve never cheated on you.” Not physically, but we’ve already established that.
“Tell me the truth about you two. There’s history between you, and I need to know it.” I sit on the barstool and drop my head into my hands. She deserves the truth, but I’m not prepared to tell her everything.
“We grew up together. I don’t know what else to say, Karina. We were friends. We lived next door, and I went to school with her sister, Spencer, and Spence’s boyfriend was one of my best friends.”
She sits beside me and inhales deeply. “You make it seem like you barely knew each other.”
“Goddamn, it’s the past. You’re digging for something that isn’t there. Our family is close. Our parents have been friends since college.” I look up at her, meeting her eyes as I prepare to lie. “Camille is nothing to me. She was Spencer's little tag along sister.” The words make me feel sick.
She eyes me suspiciously, not wholly ready to believe my lies. “When we were dating, you went to New York, and when you came back, you said you wanted to spend your life with me.” I watch her face closely as she does calculations in her head. "Camille was living in New York at that time." She stands up abruptly, knocking the stool over. “Did you go to New York to see her? It matches up perfectly!” she yells, a piece of her blonde hair falls out of her perfect bun, but she doesn’t bother fixing it. This is the most out of sorts I’ve seen her in a long time.
“Is she the reason you don’t want to have a baby anymore?”
