fresh lemonade | h.s au

pray you catch me.

"You can taste the dishonesty,

it's all over your breath as you pass it off so cavalier."

---

thursday night

Before this story begins I feel it is only right to introduce myself. My name is Ophelia Banks and I am a thirty-two year old home stager, mother of one and wife to a loving and adoring husband or so I thought.

Here I am, lying in bed waiting for my husband to come home. I had just put my son to bed close to an hour ago and as I wait in bed for what seems like an eternal I finally hear some sort of movement coming from outside my bedroom door. I shift in the bed and get up to face the door only to see my son running into the room to my side of the bed with tears streaming down his face. I should have known he was going to come into my bedroom sooner or later as there was a storm raging outside and he's been afraid of storms for the longest time. 

"Mummy I'm scared." My four year old son Logan says as he attempts to crawl onto the bed. I hold out my arms to him and help him up only to have him cuddle into my side.

"It's alright love you can go to bed now the storm will pass before you know it." I hold him close and brush the hair on his head until it slowly lulls him back to sleep. I kiss his forehead and look at him resting. He truly is the carbon copy of his father except he has received his lighter skin tone from me rather than his father's. But still just looking at him reminds me so much of his father. Where exactly could that man be? What is he even doing out still especially at this time of night. Is he safe out there in the storm? Why am I still not used to his tardiness yet? He has been coming home late for the past two weeks due to a big merger another company and his are going through.

"Please bring him home safe," I whisper a silent prayer. "Just deliver him home to me safe." I close my eyes and I fall asleep feeling the warmth of my son next to me rather than my husband.

friday morning

"Mummy your phone is ringing," Logan groans. I open my eyes and see that Michael, my ever so late husband, is lying on his side of the bed while my phone is on the nightstand on his side of the bed ringing. I start wonder what time exactly he came home last night if he is too deep into a slumber to realize the phone was ringing.

"Love why don't you go to your room and start getting dressed so that I can go make you breakfast before we go to school."

"Ok mummy." He gets out of bed while rubbing his eyes and walks out of the room to his own. I turn back to my husband and grab my phone but his eyes open and he grabs my wrists before flipping me over and lying on top of me.

"Good morning love," he says as he places soft kisses along my neck.

"Good morning." I reply not wanting to look at him. He may be acting all sweet but I am still furious at the fact he returned home late yet again and didn't manage to call me to say he was running late or safe out there in the storm.

"Love why are you acting like this its Friday. You know what Fridays mean." He wiggles his eyebrows insinuating how we have sex on Fridays. By sex I mean I just lay there while he gets off. He hasn't made me orgasm in years and to be frank he hasn't made me happy in months.

"You smell like Burberry." I move away and look into his eyes. His eyebrows scrunch up and he cocks his head.

"So? I came home late so couldn't shower and I still had my cologne on."

"You smell like Burberry Michael. It's strange because I only buy you Chanel." I move from under him and go to the closet where I take out an oversized sweater to put it on and wearing some black leggings with it.