The Love I Almost Gave Up On

The bedroom was too quiet, save for the rhythmic hiss of the shower behind the heavy bathroom door. Shonna stood by the edge of the king-sized bed, her fingers trembling slightly as she adjusted the collar of her cream silk blouse. Today was supposed to be about her. She had spent the last three weeks preparing a comprehensive digital marketing campaign for her firm’s largest corporate client, and the final presentation was scheduled for ten o’clock that morning. She needed absolute focus.

Then, the nightstand vibrated.

It was a low, dull buzz, but in the quiet of the room, it sounded like a fire alarm. Shonna turned her head. Frank’s iPad lay flat on the dark wood surface, its screen illuminating the dim corner of the room. She walked over, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor. She told herself to stop. She told herself that a good wife, a secure woman, the good girl her family had raised in that warm, faithful Atlanta home, would simply turn the device over. But the sickness in her stomach—the familiar, cold weight that had lived in her gut for the last year—pulled her closer.

She looked down. A notification banner stretched across the lock screen. It was an incoming direct message from an account with no profile picture. The text read: Are you still coming by later? followed by a pink heart emoji.

Shonna stared at the screen until her eyes burned. The water in the bathroom suddenly stopped, the pipes groaning as the pressure cut off. Panic, sharp and hot, spiked in her chest. She could hear Frank sliding the glass door back, hummed bars of Silk song drifting out into the bedroom along with a cloud of lavender-scented steam. She had to leave. If she stayed, if she confronted him right now, she would miss her meeting, and she could not let him ruin this day for her.

By the time Frank stepped out, a plush white towel wrapped around his broad waist, Shonna was already grabbing her designer tote bag from the armchair. He smiled when he saw her, his bald head gleaming under the recessed lighting, his well-groomed beard framing that handsome, easy smile that had captured her years ago.

"Morning, beautiful," Frank said, He stepped toward her, reaching out to wrap his strong arms around her waist. "You look incredible. You're going to kill that presentation today, baby."

Shonna forced her lips into a tight curve, leaning into his chest for a brief, empty second. He smelled of soap and cocoa butter, a scent that usually comforted her but now made her feel slightly nauseous. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice tighter than she intended. "I have to run. The traffic on the interstate is going to be terrible."

"Go get 'em," he said, kissing her forehead. "I'll be thinking about you."

But as Shonna drove to the office, the city of Atlanta blurring outside her windshield, she wasn't thinking about marketing strategies or target demographics. The pink heart emoji danced behind her eyelids. She tried to pray, grasping for the scriptures her mother used to quote about patience and trust, but the words felt hollow. Her mind kept looping back to the ipad. Who was that woman? Why was she asking if he was coming by?

At the marketing office, the day was a disaster of her own making. During the pre-meeting prep, Frances walked into her cubicle, holding two cups of coffee. Frances took one look at Shonna’s face and set the cups down with a hard thud.

"Shonna, what is wrong with you?" Frances asked, her sharp, skeptical eyes scanning her friend’s face. "You look like you haven't slept in a week. Your presentation starts in twenty minutes."

"I'm fine," Shonna lied, her fingers flying across her phone screen as she checked her personal messages for the tenth time in an hour, hoping Frank had texted her some innocent explanation. "Just pre-presentation jitters."

"Don't give me that," Frances scoffed, leaning against the desk. "If that man has you stressed out again before a major career moment, I swear to God I'm going to throw both your phones in the pool. You're turning into a detective and a boxer at the same time, and it's not a good look."

"It's not Frank," Shonna snapped, her tone sharper than usual. She immediately regretted it, softening her voice. "I just need to focus, Frances. Please."

But focus was impossible. During the actual presentation, while her team lead was discussing the quarterly projections, Shonna’s phone buzzed in her lap. She looked down under the table, her heart hammering against her ribs. It was just a notification from her banking app, but the split-second distraction caused her to miss her cue. The client had to ask her twice to present the social media metrics, and she stumbled through her opening slides, her voice shaking. She managed to save the meeting, but the damage was done.

When Shonna finally returned to the apartment that evening, exhausted and emotionally drained, she found the space bathed in warm, soft light. R&B music played quietly from the speakers, and the rich scent of garlic and rosemary filled the air. Frank was in the kitchen, wearing a clean gray t-shirt that clung to his muscular frame. On the dining table sat a vase filled with fresh, vibrant red roses.

"Welcome home, baby," Frank said, walking over to her. He took her bag and set it aside, then pulled her into a deep, lingering hug. He kissed her neck, his lips warm against her skin, sending a wave of conflicting emotions through her. "I know how stressed you were about today. I wanted to make sure you came home to a peaceful house."

Shonna looked at the roses, then at his handsome, smiling face. He was being so sweet, so attentive. It was the Frank she fell in love with, the man who promised to cherish her forever. She wanted so desperately to believe this was the real him, that the notification she saw this morning was just a misunderstanding. She smiled, letting herself relax into his embrace, pushing the dark thoughts into the corners of her mind.

They ate dinner together, laughing and talking about their days. Frank was charming, telling stories about a difficult real estate client, making her laugh until her chest ached. It was a beautiful, perfect evening. But the peace was a fragile glass dome, and Shonna could feel the cracks beginning to spread.

Hours later, after they had gone to bed and Frank’s breathing had settled into a deep sleep, Shonna lay awake in the dark. The silence of the apartment pressed down on her chest like a physical weight. The memory of the morning returned, sharp and persistent. She couldn't live with the doubt.

Carefully, she slipped out from under the covers, making sure not to disturb him. She crept across the cold floor to the nightstand and picked up his ipad. She went into the hallway, using the dim light from the streetlamp outside the window to navigate. She unlocked the device—she knew his passcode by heart—and opened the messaging app.

There was nothing.

The thread from the morning was completely gone. In fact, his entire direct message history with any unfamiliar accounts had been wiped clean. There was only a conversation with his boss and a few group chats with his friends. Shonna’s breath caught in her throat. He hadn't just ignored the message; he had actively deleted it. He was hiding his tracks, burying the evidence in the digital shadows before she could ever ask him about it.

She walked back into the bedroom and stood over the bed, staring down at her husband’s sleeping face. He looked so peaceful, and so innocent that she had no idea how many more secrets were buried beneath the surface.