I've dreamed of the perfect marriage ever since I was a little girl: a marriage complete with a hardworking husband while I tended to the home and our children, preferably four little rugrats to call my own. I dreamed of a life filled with laughter...
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Warmth caresses my cheeks, waking me from a deep sleep. The room is filled with sunlight and the sound of chirping birds greets me. With furrowed brows, I roll over to look at the clock. My eyes widen in shock when I realize I've slept past ten. I have never slept in before.
Never sleep in, Charlotte. Ladies get up early, before the sun comes up, to prepare for the day and take care of the needs of their husbands and families.
I toss the blankets off my body in a huff and make my way to the door. Gently, I crack the door open and peek out. I hope no one is home; no one should be home. Daniel should have left for work hours ago. This would make the first morning he'd have woken without a warm breakfast, prepared by yours truly, waiting for him since we were married.
Luckily, I had the foresight to lay out his clothes for today and pack his travel bag for his week-long trip before we attended dinner last night, so he had no reason to bother me this morning. Not sure if Daniel would have packed the bag himself if I hadn't done it for him, but I'm glad he didn't have any reason to renege on last night's agreement all because I, his mousy little placeholder for a wife, needed to pack for his trip. I mentally curtsy.
You're welcome, Daniel. So glad you granted me the honor of handling your needs until your precious Abigail was finally in the position to take the reins.
My jaw clenches and my breathing quickens. Shaking my head, I push those thoughts out of my mind. I don't have time to dwell, not today. After several minutes of listening, I know the house is empty. My heart picks up the pace because it's game time. I have a lot of ground to cover today and don't have time to waste.
First task: I need a shower, a scalding to freezing shower to get my system energized for the day ahead.
As I go to shut the door, a piece of paper taped to it grabs my attention. Plucking it from the door, I read it.
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Crumbling the letter in my hand, I stomp toward the bathroom and toss the letter into the garbage as anger as hot as the burning sun consumes me. Everything else in my marriage has gone to the trash why not this useless letter? Too bad I don't have a match to go along with this dumpster fire of a marriage.
