In the moment that Derek informed me that he was required to travel out of state for a marketing conference at the eleventh hour, I did not hesitate to believe him. In the past, he had been required to travel for employment. The sales trips, trade exhibitions, and conferences were all a part of his life, and in all honesty, they were a part of our life as well.
The email, which included the company letterhead, the schedule with bullet points, and the flight details, was even shown to me. Every single item appeared to be genuine. Although I was assisting him in zipping up his suitcase, he said to me, “Marina, I’m going to be swamped, okay?” I was probably off the grid for the majority of the weekend.
You don’t need to be concerned about me at all. Take some time for yourself and engage in an activity that brings you pleasure. A grin appeared on my face as I pondered the possibility of spending a weekend at a spa.
I carefully packed his garment bag, smoothing away the wrinkles in his suit and putting in his favorite tie, which was the dark teal one that I always believed made his eyes look warmer. The fact that I was being so fussy made him giggle, and he quickly planted a kiss on my forehead. While making adjustments to the handle of his suitcase, he quipped, “Don’t miss me too much.”
With the same unwavering faith that I had always had in him, I saw him slip through the security checkpoint.
It was as natural as breathing that it felt. Within the context of our marriage, trust was never a choice; rather, it was an assumption. All the same, that presumption would be disproved very quickly.
Two days later, I was avoiding the mountain of laundry that I had been intending to do by browsing through Facebook on a relaxing Sunday afternoon. I was sipping tea and trying to divert my attention away from the mound of clothes. What is it?
Furthermore, Derek was depicted in that photograph, not seated at a podium or in a conference room, but rather standing at an altar. He was holding a glass of champagne in one hand and a small confetti box in the other hand, and he was wearing the precise outfit that I had painstakingly packed for him. The expression that was on his face was one of unadulterated, unqualified joy.
And there, standing next to him, was Clara, his ex-girlfriend, beaming as if they hadn’t missed a beat since the day they had first known each other. He had always asserted that the person behind him was behind him. As if my body was trying to avoid acknowledging what my eyes were seeing, my fingers found themselves hovering over the screen in a manner that was almost strange to me.
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