Seven years ago, Tristan Knight walked away from the love of his life, Serenity Harris, without a word or a backwards glance. No goodbye. No Dear John letter. No words of apologies or excuses. She'd woken up one morning to an empty bed, her body sor...
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Six months later
I am so happy. I am beyond happy. I am the happiest I've ever been in my life. Nyle makes me happy. I love Nyle and he loves me. He's the best thing that ever happened to me. Marrying him is the best decision I ever made in my life. I look forward to spending the rest of my life with him. I am beyond blessed. I love him and him only.
This was the embellished affirmation Serenity had repeated to herself over and over in her mind every day for the past nine months. Most days it worked. Lately, it was becoming harder to say it with conviction and believe it. Whoever said time heals all wounds was clearly a fool and didn't know what the hell they were talking about.
Serenity stood in the kitchen of the Mediterranean style home she shared with Nyle, staring vacantly into space as she made lunch for him to take to the studio. He was working on a new album with Ricky, Dennis, and Maxim and they had been spending most of their days and nights there trying to perfect the lyrics and get the sound just right. She hardly saw her husband anymore. Most of the time when he was coming in she was going out; when he was asleep, she was awake and vice versa. It would've made the average newlywed crazy but they had been managing everything pretty good so far. They had been married almost a year and had fallen into a normal routine that worked quite well for them.
Opening a cabinet above the stove, Serenity pulled down a sectional Tupperware container and stocked it with the baked chicken, rice, and veggies she had just made for her husband. She made breakfast and lunch for him every day and she did it gladly. He normally was at the studio during dinner hours so he ordered something in while he was there or skipped dinner altogether. Serenity would usually have a cup of homemade soup or a simple sandwich for dinner. Cooking was very therapeutic for her. Especially lately.
"Nyle, your lunch is ready babe!" she called up the stairs to him.
"Be down in a minute gorgeous!" he called back.
Serenity continued to stand at the stove, staring blankly as images of seven years before flashed around in her mind, taunting and teasing her. Tangled limbs. Heavy moans. Cries of pleasure. Bodies glistening with sweat. Love songs playing incessantly on repeat. The feel of her former lover's penis thrusting hard in and out of her. Orgasms that felt so good they were painful.
"Stop it," she harshly whispered to herself. "Stop it."
It was nothing doing. She couldn't stop the images. She was starting to think love was a curse created by the gods to drive women mad.
Serenity pushed away from the stove and slowly paced back and forth in their large, open kitchen. Sex wasn't the only thing clawing at her mind. She remembered the good days. The early days. The night they'd met. The way he looked at her. How his hand felt in hers. How safe she felt with his arms around her. Even in the midst of all the madness their love affair had brought, it still felt right 90% of the time. She always felt one day it would work out. What the fuck had happened? What had changed his mind?
