The End of A Marriage

Three Years Ago

It had been a long day of work, with a camera shoved in my face- filming for some commercial? I think it was a shampoo one… something about making my hair super shiny, but I actually preferred my dandruff-preventing one. I was scrubbing the caked-on makeup, which seemed to never come off. Great for the camera, not so great for someone who wanted it off, like now.

“Iris? You looked so good for the shoot.” My stylist, Bell, was behind me, hanging the clothes I had worn. “Why are you rushing? Do you have somewhere to be?” Her voice was cheery as she spoke to me. 

I nodded before replying, “My wedding anniversary is tomorrow!” I chirped up. She turned her head to me,

“Ohhhh, so are we rushing to pick up gifts?” I bit my bottom lip, 

“Well, I’m thinking of a non-traditional gift. I’m cooking.” I said lightly, “Not something big and fancy-” I was defending myself, “But I’m gonna try to make it all homemade.” I'm not an experienced cook. Our housekeeper usually made dinner, and it was always good, but I wanted to make us food. I used to cook all the time for myself until moving in with Triston. I haven’t even gone into our kitchen. “I’m thinking paella or lobster?” 

“Wow. There is no other way into a man's heart than through his stomach.” I nodded, knowing she understood me. “And have you picked out an outfit?” I stared out into the mirror, “Or you can just whip cream?” My face grew red, spinning to face her. 

“Bell!” I called out. She shrugged, 

“You got the body.” She remarked, “It would be an extra gift that’ll keep his jaw on the ground.” Her brow moved up, “Add some strawberries and wine. I think I’d do ya too.” Her words weren’t wrong… I smiled at her until I heard my phone ring. I sighed, looking down at the phone. More work. I pulled it up, seeing it was my manager. I put it to my ear,

“Hello? Oliver, what’s up?”

“Iris, is the filming all done?”

“Yeah- just finished right now,” I said as I smeared my eyeliner more.

“I’ve got some good news,” I heard him say, a smile growing wider on my face. 

“I got the part?!” I glanced at Bell, who knew exactly what call it was. I couldn’t have

 stopped speaking about it since I auditioned a month ago. “Thank you, thank you!”

“I’ll be over tomorrow to drop off your script, alright?” I thought back for a moment, 

“But-”

“Tomorrow. You have to start preparing for this. It’s gonna be a big one. You'll be a household name! In every country!” I bit down on my lip, nodding. 

“Alright.” I hung up the phone before turning to Bell. 

“I got the part!” She squealed along with me. “Ahhhh, everything is just perfect!” Bell gave me the toothiest smile, 

“You deserve it, babe.”

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I had rushed home, bags full of groceries. Some for tomorrow, some for me to try tonight. 

“Mrs. Ballard-” Rosy’s eyes were filled with a mixture of surprise and fear. “Here, let me get that for you-” I shook my head,

“I got it, thank you,” I replied to her as I made my way inside my home to the kitchen. “Rosy- you have tomorrow off!” I smiled gleefully. “No exceptions.” She chased behind me,

“Mrs. Ballard, I am thankful, but-” I turned my head to her, 

“No saying no.” I told her, “I’ve booked you a spa day, hair and nail appointment- so take it and remember not to tell-” 

“Tell who what?” I nearly dropped everything in my arms, turning my head forward to face Triston. His smile widened at the sight of me. “And why are you threatening Rosy with a day off?” I was stopped in my heels, before trying to coolly make an excuse. 

“Rosy works hard.” I started, “I think she deserves a day off.”

“She works very hard and deserves the year off,” Triston agreed, “But Rosy loves coming in to work. Trust me, I’ve tried to retire her.” I looked back, Rosy's face redder than mine. “Now, why are we threatening our lovely housekeeper?” I opened my mouth, thinking quickly of something to say.

“I need the day off.” Rosy quickly said behind me, I turned, knowing damn right she was picking up what I never held down. “I need to go to the doctor for my yearly appointment.” Triston nodded at hearing that.

“Understandable.” He moved between us, 

“I thought she would also need a spa day.” I smiled. “Rosy cooks each meal for us-”

“Because Rosy knows what I like.” I glared at him, “She’s family, Iris, but if she needs the day, of course she can take it.” I felt myself smile. “I’ll have a chef come in and prepare our meals for the day.” I gripped my bags harder,

“No-no… We can manage-” Triston tilted his head.

“We?” He shook his head at me, “Darling, I don’t think I could tell a burner from the fridge.” He smirked, “I’d like for someone to take care of dinner for you.” I stood in my place, hearing his words.

“Cook for me?” I cocked my head, “Why-” Triston looked down at his watch, always working. “What do you mean?” He looked back up at me, his clear eyes sparkling, a spark that was always held for me. 

“I have a business trip, baby,” Triston started, “I'm leaving tonight. It’ll be two days, and once I am back, I plan on taking you on a long weekend and spoiling you.” I stared at him. I felt stupid. Holding groceries in my arms. Begging Rosy to take a day off- “I’m leaving tonight, so the chef I’m hiring will make sure you are well taken care of until our Rosy comes back.” I stared at him, hard. Had he forgotten? Our one-year anniversary? He worked so hard, never took time for himself… but Triston never put work above me. 

“So you’re leaving me-”

“Just until Friday,” He sighed, “It’s a last-minute trip, but I swear, once I’m back… I will make it all up to you.” I felt my heart sink in my chest at his words. “Is that okay?” What else can I say? What can I say that will make him stay? Our anniversary is tomorrow. Please cancel that? I could never ask that. He worked too hard. Worked beyond what other people did- how could I possibly ask that of him? I nodded.

“Okay.”

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I was seated at the end of the table. My eyeliner had run, and I had chased off the chef. He wasn’t needed. I could order takeout, which I did, but seeing the full spread already in the kitchen made me pick at it. I had been through what couldn’t have been more than four glasses of wine. Maybe four bottles. Hell, maybe a bottle of vodka too. Who would know? No one. I was alone in this large home. Scary to think about since I would be sleeping here- maybe that second bottle of vodka was the reason I didn’t feel jittery. 

Everything sucked. I planned dinner, I bought a butt load of whipped cream to get licked off of me… and had found recipes I thought would suit Mr. Picky eater. But nope. All that shopping and planning was down the drain. Even worse than all that shit was that I was alone.

On our one-year wedding anniversary, I was all alone. I picked up my glass, using it more like a shot than a sip. As I served myself another glass, I heard a ring at the doorbell. 

I almost shot up from my seat. Triston lied! He was here. I cleaned up my eye makeup, fixing my lacy nightgown. It would all be cleared up. I walked to the door, just as another knock came, and I pulled the door open.

“About damn time, mister.”