As soon as Margot arrived, she could sense that something was wrong. The door was wide open with no rooms illuminated inside. The house remained eerily quiet and frigid. A dark object positioned on the ground caught Margot’s eye and she knelt down and picked it up. It was a photograph, but she could barely see the picture. She held it up into the moonlight and gasped. The photograph showed her husband, Dwayne, linking arms affectionately with a young blonde in front of a cascading waterfall. The timestamp on the photo suggested that it was taken just a few days ago. A murmur was heard, originating from upstairs. She hesitated slightly, before walking cautiously up the staircase.
As she reached the top of the stairs, Margot noticed a line of white light underneath the door of their bedroom. She picked up a vase from the hall and walked down to her bedroom door with the vase poised ready to strike. Inside, a man was looking into a suitcase on her bed, facing the other direction.
“Dwayne?” she uttered.
The man turned around. It was him.
“Oh, Margot!” he breathed.
He walked towards her, his arms held wide, ready to hug her. Margot repelled.
“Explain,” she spoke dishearteningly, flashing the photo in front of his face, keeping the vase poised.
Dwayne hesitated. His hesitation confirmed her fear of his infidelity.
“Ah well, you see, umm – “
“Who is she?”
“Rebecca. We work together. We just went on the conference together. Nothing else.”
He just confirmed her suspicion further.
“Why would you say nothing else, if nothing happened? Don’t try and hide this from me. I’m sick of your games.”
“Well, no – all right, fine. I’m in love with her, probably more than I am with you. I’ve decided to leave by tomorrow.”
She allowed the argument to run smoothly and as calmly as possible. She had waited for this moment for years.
“You see, things fall apart; the centre cannot hold,” said Dwayne, attempting to explain his position, not knowing Margot was silently agreeing. “I don’t know about you, but we haven’t been holding this marriage together for a long time. Wearing rings doesn’t mean anything.”
“Where are you moving? To her house?” said Margot, faking pain in her voice.
“Yeah. She has an apartment at those new places you liked at South Bank. You know, the ones with the round red windows? Number 503, I think,” replied Dwayne in an unfashionably calm manner.
“Well, I’m going to get dinner. I don’t want to be home while you pack.”
“I’d prefer it that way actually.”
She didn’t give a damn what he preferred. But if it meant she could finally get on with her life, she was happy to do anything. Margot left the bedroom, attempting to look distraught.
She stepped into the car and prepared to reverse out of the driveway. An odd thought crossed her mind, though she tried to dismiss it as psychotic. The thought overpowered her. She re-entered the house and extracted a knife from the kitchen drawer. She returned to her car and drove off casually, the knife lying on the passenger seat.
As Margot drove to the apartment building, she felt as though her wedding ring was slipping off her finger. It was not the first time it had happened.
“Of course the ‘centre cannot hold’ if the ring can’t even stay on my finger!” she spat through gritted teeth.
She parked across the street from the apartment building with the knife safely hidden in her back pocket. It was a beautiful building and she had longed for an apartment on the top floor with the round red windows. She waited outside the entrance of the building when a couple walked towards the main door. They swiped a card and entered the building, stealthily followed by Margot. She made her way to the fifth floor via the fire escape, trying not to attract attention to herself.
Upon reaching apartment 503 she knocked on the door and was greeted by the woman from the photo. Margot checked the hallway before she pushed the woman into the room, closing the door behind her.
“Who are – ” the woman articulated in sheer shock.
“Are you having an affair with my husband? Are you Rebecca?” interjected Margot.
“Dwayne? He’s married?” replied Rebecca.
“Yes, to me! Didn’t you know?”
“No! Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I never would have done that!”
“So, we’ve both been fooled by him. Well, you can have him; I don’t want him anymore, anyway,”
“Oh no, I don’t want him now either! The lying bastard!”
“He won’t be too happy then.”
“Well, it’s his fault anyway. Hey, I was about to have cheese and biscuits. You want to join me?”
“That’s perfect, and we can use the knife I brought.”
