Short Stories

Scent of Betrayal


She stormed into the bedroom with an anger that was as fierce as a hungry lion looking fora prey to devour. But that anger was only devouring her; anger and bitterness and a million and one knives that were stabbing inside her chest endlessly. The room was a mess, and she could tell that he had been there the previous night.She could smell it on the sheets of the bed; she sensed it in her very insides.But she needed a proof; something tangible that would serve as the smoking gun she had been shot with.

For a moment, she stood still among the chaos not knowing where to begin her search. Anger and fear were eating away at her, as was her broken heart that kept on bleeding to what seemed to be an eternity. She looked around, trying to examine, with her bare eyes, what lies beneath, but they were weary and her strength was fading. But she was determined to understand, and to find the answers she was looking for. She started rampaging through the clothes and the sheets that were scattered all around. She turned the room upside down, like a gold digger viciously looking for gold. But all her efforts were to no avail;all she that she uncovered was a handful of dirty socks, a pair of pajama pants and his running shoes. She rushed towards the walk-in closet, slid opened its huge white doors and conducted another thorough search. Nothing was to be found.

Exhausted from the pain and agony, she sat on the edge of the bed to catch her breath. On the night stand stood a picture frame. She couldn’t avoid looking at it hard as she tried. In the confines of the metal was the image of a man carrying a baby boy in his arms, his face holding a proud smile like that of a father. She grabbed the frame and, instantaneously, her tears resurfaced. She sobbed bitterly as she drowned in the memories that materialized from the picture in front of her eyes.

It had been several months of ups and downs between them, the cause of which seemed more like a mystery yet to be solved. Communication was worthless; it seemed as though he was on a mission to destroy all that they had once shared: the dreams, the home and the life they had fought hard to build. And yet, throughout the storm, she still possessed, and hung on to, a glimmer of hope that he would mutate back into the man she had once fallen in love with, and the loving father of her children. She was feeding on that hope and was determined to mend what was broken, despite the wounds.

With her tears still running down her face, and the picture in her hands, she looked around the bedside table for a tissue to dry her tears. Her anger was subsiding. She was starting to doubt her instincts and felt somewhat foolish.“He’s a good man”, she thought to herself. “I am sure all this is just my imagination”.

She placed the frame where it originally was and was about to get up from the edge of the bed when she noticed the drawer of the nightstand was partially open. She reached out to open it but then quickly pulled back. Her heart started pounding in her chest, and her palms were sweating. For a moment, she was not sure whether or not she wanted to face the reality, scared it would shatter her short-lived, tear-filled dream. But the fear and curiosity inside of her were pushing her to find out what lay inside of the drawer. She reached out and slowly pulled it open. As it was opening, she could see the silhouette of the items inside. Her heart beats were racing, and her breathing was becoming harder.When the drawer was finally open and its contents in full sight, she gasped and let go of the drawer. It fell to the floor scattering what was inside.

She stood still, unable to fully grasp the vision in front of her: a pair of black satin thongs, which, surely, did not belong to her and two passports.Trembling, she bent down and grabbed both passports, her blood boiling inside her veins. She slowly opened the first one, and as she was doing so, she was trying hard to keep herself calm. But her endeavors fell apart when she laid eyes on the passport photo. Her tears reemerged; tears of disappointment and the stabbing feeling of betrayal. She skimmed through the pages of the passport and found a visa to Turkey stamped on it. She threw the passport and grabbed the other one, rummaging through it only to find out that it was his and had the same visa stamped on it.

In an instant, she witnessed her already crumbling world shatter into a million tiny pieces, taking down with it the last bit of hope she had been holding on to like dear life. She fell on her knees and let out a loud scream as the white barren walls of the room around her started spinning rapidly. The pain that ensued made her feel as though her soul was departing her body and she lost all will to fight. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

The scent of betrayal was all too distinct and filled the entire room. She was sad for herself, for the hope she was irrationally clinging on to, and for the time she had wasted waiting for him to go back to his senses, and for believing, foolishly, that everything was going to go back to how it used to be. She wept because she knew that it was over, and because, this time, she was not going to be able to mend what was broken.

A few minutes passed by which, to her, felt like a whole lifetime. She wiped the tears from her eyes and got back to her feet with a determination stronger than anything she had ever felt before. She walked into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, mocking her defeat. Her eyes were glazed and her soul was broken. She reached out for the tap, turned it and allowed the water to flow fiercely. She bent to wash her face and to feel the coldness of the water on her numbed skin. She lifted her head and stared back at her reflection in the mirror, which, at that moment, held an intimidating expression. She smiled and with a swift gesture pushed her hair back, then calmly walked out of the bathroom and away from the room. From over her shoulder, she looked back one last time, and then started the new journey on her own. She knew it was not going to be easy, but she was adamant on surviving.

The door slammed. A new chapter began.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s