When Dreams Fade to Ashes

As I was freshening up in the bathroom, my eyes caught a glimpse of something unsettling in the trash can: a pair of black lace panties that screamed seduction. Resting on them was a used condom, its contents a telling milky white.

I stood frozen in place, petrified.

John Smith and I had not been intimate in over a year, and I was too reserved to wear something as skimpy as that.

The only explanation was that John had enjoyed some company while I was out at a friend's place yesterday.

I reached for my phone, intent on confronting him, but his latest Messenger text stopped me in my tracks.

[I’m swamped. Can you handle things yourself today?]

Why today, out of all days? It was the anniversary of my mom's passing.

John used to join me for the memorial prayers.

I had even double-checked with him in the morning before he headed to work, and he said he would be there.

Now, he was bailing.

What could have been so important?

That was when I saw Holly Green, his so-called god-sister, had updated her status. I had her on Messenger because of John.

Clicking on her post felt like igniting a fuse in my brain.

It was a photo of her in a hotel room with John. He tenderly held her foot, his lips pressed to her skin as he looked at her lovingly.

The caption read: [He said he loved me!]

Just like that, any lingering affection I had for John immediately evaporated.