How? How did he expect her to pull it off?! Get married to him? Less than a month after her husband’s death? It would be the talk of the entire nation! “Oh how quickly the grieving widow mourned” “She couldn’t even let her husband’s body grow cold” “Her husband must be turning in the grave” “Eya, what a wicked woman” “Maybe she killed her husband”…. Bla bla bla
She walked to stand at her balcony, softly twirling her glass of red wine which she sipped occasionally, careful not to spill it. She took a deep breath, hands on the railing and head reeling from all the thoughts. She sighed as she acknowledged the fear she was feeling.
She didn’t fear what people would say since she knew they would be true to very large extent. She feared a man… The same one that had asked her to marry him. The same one she dared not say no to. The same man who had helped her do the unthinkable… Kill her husband.
She sighed as she remembered the day.
...She remembered the phone that rang that day…. The one that cut through her sweet afternoon doze and made her curse quietly as she begged it not to rouse the sleeping child whose head rested between her breasts…the one that was persistent enough to make her get up from the living room chair, set the baby down gently and walk with hastened steps to her own doom…
…She had picked up the phone. Nothing. She took the phone off her ears to stare at the screen. Sweetheart…
... Nothing. She was about to cut the call when she finally heard it.
“yes baby… yes baby… keep fucking me just like that… oh my god… fuck yeah..”
Adora stood rooted to the spot as her brain slowly processed what she was hearing. There was more groaning and some serious fucking going on at the other end but she just stood there transfixed, hands holding phone to ear. She stood there till he came, listening to every sound he made…recording every pleasure in her memory. It was only after she had heard things subside that she cut the call.
Her brain failed her. She wanted to scream, cry, hurl things, confront him… she wanted to deal with the pain searing through her chest but all she could do was stare into nothing. She could feel the warmth slowly ebb out of her being. Her son’s cry broke her out of her trance. She looked long and hard at the phone one more time before walking over to her child, picking him up and slowly rocking him back till he quietened. She cooed softly to him, dancing back and forth till he started to doze off in her arms.
She was dead.