At dinner, the table was filled with dishes I loved. Matthew meticulously peeled shrimp and picked out chicken bones for me, but his frequent texting and the tender look in his eyes when glancing at his phone betrayed his divided attention.
I noticed everything but stayed silent, quietly enjoying the meal. I endured until nighttime when he finally couldn't sit still. Using work as an excuse, he drove off hurriedly, even forgetting his usual habit of kissing my forehead before leaving.
After much hesitation, I decided to follow him. At first, I worried he might notice, but even when I openly trailed behind his car, he remained oblivious. His entire focus was on that goldfinch of his.
The car stopped at a mid-range apartment complex, pulling up in front of a building. I parked in a hidden spot and watched as Lindsay, dressed in a skimpy nightgown, leaped into Matthew's arms, pouting and looking pitifully aggrieved.
Matthew's face was full of indulgence as he gently held her waist, draped his jacket over her shoulders and carried her inside in a princess hold.
The lights on the sixth floor turned on and I saw their suggestive silhouettes through the window.
In the living room, Matthew couldn't wait to press Lindsay against the glass. Their shadows overlapped intimately. The thought of Matthew being with her for six months, then coming back to touch me with his filthy hands …
"Ugh …" I retched violently in the car. Disgust, I felt pure, unrelenting disgust.
I closed my eyes, but the image of their entwined bodies clung to my mind like a nightmare, impossible to shake.
My face felt damp. I instinctively reached up to touch it and realized my tears had long begun to fall.
I thought back to Matthew's claim that he had a cleanliness obsession and would only ever touch me in his lifetime. Now, looking back, it felt like the biggest lie in the world.
The next evening, Matthew came back in a rush, as usual, holding a bouquet of my favorite roses. Normally, I would greet him cheerfully, chatting nonstop about all the little things in my day. But now, I just sat on the sofa, listless, my fingers brushing over a delicate box.
Matthew finally sensed something off about my mood. Cautiously, he asked, "Miranda, did I do something to upset you?"