What If...

I stood frozen outside the door, hesitant to enter. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see what lay beyond the doorway. I’d seen enough movies to know what happens to women that finish work early.

Various scenarios ran through my head, including my initial reaction, which generally consisted of me bursting in the room screaming ‘What the hell is going on?’

What if he was in bed with a tall, busty blonde, or my sister, or my mother! (Oh God.) What if he was with a man? What if their muscular bodies writhed together in an ecstasy that I could never create? (I have to stop this.) What if he stood in front of the mirror as he admired a full-length view of himself in my lingerie? What if he had on a dress, and tights and stilettos whilst hovering? ( I’m insane, paranoid, delusional!) What if he was watching weird animal porn or what if he was completing some secret satanic ritual? (Now you’re just being ridiculous.)

(What if you just walk through the door and see for yourself?) Not a bad idea.

I burst into the room ready to scream, but it was neat and empty. There was a note on the bed reading: I’ve packed my things and moved out. You are crazy and do not trust me. You need help, because if you knew me at all, you would know that I loved you more than anything else before you went nuts. You’ve brought about your own worst nightmare. Yours, Hubbie.