A pale-skinned woman was watching out of her veranda of her beach house. She heard a door closing behind her. She knew who it was the moment she caught a whiff of a spicy-smelling cologne.
She finished off the class of pink champagne she was holding in her hand. And she placed it on the table next to her. A bitter smile touched her lips. “Done with your whore of the week? Today is Monday, right?” She said, “Ah,” in a tone of playful fascination. “A blonde am I, correct?”
A sigh, the clinking of glass, and the pouring of liquid reached her ears. A moment of stillness was broken by a deep voice that asked, “Are you serious, Valerie? You’re really going there? It’s not even past noon yet, and you are already being a cunt.”
Valerie shot him a poisonous look. “Really, Nathaniel? Name-calling? The fact remains: you betrayed me and our marriage.”
Nathaniel laughed, “Marriage? What marriage? Since your remission two years ago, you’ve refused to let me touch you.” He settled onto the couch, holding a drink.
***
Valerie walked to him and snatched the glass away before hurling it against the wall. The crystal shattered, sending shards and amber liquid cascading down the pristine white surface.
“How dare you!” she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. “I've been through hell and back, and you have the audacity to complain about our sex life?”
Nathaniel stood up, towering over her. His jaw clenched as he struggled to maintain his composure. “That's not what I meant, and you know it. You've shut me out completely, Val. It's like living with a ghost.”
Valerie turned away, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. The artificial sunlight streaming through the dome cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the tension between them.
“I'm still here,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the cheerful music piping through.