Chapter 3: Raza

*I've been working to finish this book by the end of November. I'm going to release one more chapter now, but the rest will be all at once!*

Chapter 3

Raza

There are so many blessings in my life and I really do try to count them and appreciate them all. I’m just tired. Tired of pretending. Clinton and I have been married almost three years and we’ve been trying to have a baby for the last two. It didn’t really concern me in the beginning because I had been taking birth control since I was a teen and the doctors told us it could take longer for my body to return to its normal cycle, but this is just ridiculous. I pretend it doesn’t bother me and I pretend that everything is okay. It’s what I do best. My pretending is so good I believe it myself sometimes. That’s when things get dangerous. If I start believing my own lies, are they still lies? My husband calls me everyday. My friends think it’s romantic and that he is so sweet. That may be true, but I know Clinton. He calls to make sure I haven’t killed myself. That’s him calling now. 

“Hello...? Clinton is that you?” I don’t know why I ask that since his face and name appear on my iPhone prior to me answering. 

“Hey babe. Sorry about that. Just reading through these emails. What are you up to gorgeous?” his voice sounds a little too sweet today. He probably has been fantasizing about Lenore again. That mess is so obvious and he thinks I don’t see it. I see it. I ignore it. Another one of my lies I suppose. 

“No worries. I’m just about to head out. I’m teaching a class on knives today at the store. How’d your meeting go?” until he called I had completely lost track of time. I own my own catering business and I teach classes there to keep me occupied. Plus the additional money I make from it fuels my shopping addiction. As he rambles on about the boring details of his meeting I scramble to find something to wear and start to pull my hair in a high ponytail. “That’s great, babe. I’m sure everything will work out.” I have no clue what he just said, but that’s my go to response and 90% of the time it applies to his long mundane conversations. 

“I’m going to invite Lenore over for dinner tonight. I don’t think she has been doing too well since she lost her mother last month. Maybe you can cook something fantastic to brighten her spirits? I have to run, it’s time for me to rally my troops. I’m thinking 7:30 this evening. Love you, bye.” Clinton’s voice cut off at the end because I clicked the end button right as I heard the words 7:30. Damn phone has a delay between me pressing the button and the call actually ending. I may pretend everything is okay, but I’m pretty sure people see right through it. I guess I just pretend they don’t. What the hell I look like cooking for this man and the woman he pines after day in and day out. Sorry you lost your mom, I really am, but you don’t have anyone else to turn to? My husband’s shoulder is not reserved for office sluts. And what is he talking about cook something fantastic? Like I don’t cook something fantastic every damn night. Oh no, I guess not. I guess when I’m sweating and slaving in this kitchen every night I only produce food good enough for commoners. What was I thinking? Royalty is coming tonight. Oh I got something tasty in mind for her. Yea, I’ll lay out the red carpet and present a meal neither one of them will ever forget. I think today is a new day. I’m thinking today is the day Raza grabs hold of the rings and leads herself out of misery. Where the hell did I put my car keys? What a perfect day to freshen up my knife skills.