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After all...I did make the cake

Valentine's Day Horror

By Dierra SinchesPublished 2 years ago 5 min read
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I let you have your cake and eat it too. I also asked if I could save myself a piece of yours for later. You didn't refuse. I lied and said I was craving for something sweet. You wondered why I had left the house at 4:00 AM to buy the ingredients for the fluffy delight. You referred to my unusual outing as… suspicious. I reassured you that there was nothing to worry about and that I just want it to express how much I loved you through the act of giving.

The following morning, the sun sets on your eager face. A face so eager to participate in adultery yet so subtle enough to hide it. “Honey, which color tie should I wear? Red or Gray?”, Brian asked.

“Since you’re always available, go with the red. It fits you more”, I say with a devilish grin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, he says with a confused look on his face.

“Oh, I’m just saying that you're a businessman. You always have to be available right”. He laughs it, but I can read from his body language he wasn’t the slightest bit of amused.

You grab the lunch I made for you off the counter and blow me an endearing kiss. You advise me not to wait up for dinner …. some late business meeting you say.

I respond, “No worries my love. I packed you a piece of cake for later”. You wave goodbye and set out for your eventful day…with Ashely. The back and forth wasn't letting you out of my sight any quicker. Disgusted isn't enough to describe what I feel when I look at you. My driveway is empty now.

I wait until dusk rolls around. The time to come alive is now. I made a cake another while you were gone. It's for your mistress. You know…the woman from your job who’s only skill set involves setting appointments and directing clients to wherever they need to go. She's very fond of getting something sweet from her coworkers. The freshly handpicked lily’s and the seven white roses that symbolize the seven months of your bitter ending rendezvous. The expensive perfume you bought her just so she can mask her lust. Pathetic. You have the pheromones of a greyhound, and it lingers.

8:30 PM is when your meetings usually start. Only this time you weren't at the office or at the bar. 9842 Teel Street. The fifth house down on the right with the Christmas decorations still up. It's the middle February. Pathetic and lazy. The typical characteristics of a woman who’s only in it for the thrill. The woman with no sense of urgency. The type of urgency she needs to have when it comes to the potential harm that could be bestowed upon her.

I brought myself some time while you stopped by the corner store to pick up your “toiletries” items. I pretended I dropped something on the ground discretely next to your precious Porsche. I punctured your tire with the screwdriver that your father gave to you at a young age that has your name engraved on the handle. He must have been so proud of you. Me…not so much.

By the time you realized you needed to call for roadside, because your incompetent ass can’t even jack the car up… let alone change a doorknob, I was already at her door. Ashley. A typical name for a mistress. She invited me in after I showed her the cake you” asked” me to drop off to her as a surprise. It read “Brian and Ashley together forever” written in bright red icing.

“Odd for a color scheme. It looks like a death is written all over”, she says. I can tell she feels uncomfortable as she places it on the kitchen counter. I guess the dark red icing dripping down the sides threw her off. She begins to start a casual conversation between two strangers.

She asks, “How long have you and Brian known each other”?

“A few years. We met in high school”, I respond.

“Nice. He's such a great guy …not your average Joe”. She looks at my left hand and ask, “Are you married?”

“Yes! My husband's name is also Brian”. I reach in my leather coat pocket to show her a picture of what he looks like. “This picture is from our wedding day. He hasn't changed a bit, huh?”

Her heart drops into her stomach. The desert eagle pointed at her chest just made her exhale. I can smell the fear through her pores.

“We should have a chit chat. Take a seat, Ashley”. I say it in a tranquil yet unyielding way to keep her from reaching for the panic button under her marble counter. It turns out she wasn’t all that naive as I perceived her to be. As she sits down, I slide the cake towards her. I think she gets it now.

Brian is calling her to update her on his ETA. I assume he hasn't figured it out yet, so I grabbed the phone to make a proper introduction. “Greetings, honey. Do you remember the last thing that I said to you before we departed for our honeymoon on our wedding day?”

He asks, “Angela, what are you doing?”

“Brian, you should answer the question before I get mad… and you know how I get when I get mad. I am going ask you again. Do you remember the very last thing I said to you before we departed for our honeymoon?”

You said, “Betrayal is bittersweet to taste… revenge is the sweetest act”.

I hang up the call. “I just know he's rushing here to save you, so I have one last question and answer it wisely Ashley. “What is the strongest, most vital organ in the human body?”. Before she could even fully utter the second word, I did what had to be done. I only had one bullet in the chamber and only a few minutes to walk back to my unmarked car without being noticed. I did exactly what I said I would do. I left a note for Brian to read once he gets there. “You're next”, written with Ashley’s blood and folded ever so nicely, like a card so that when he opens it up, it can definitely be the surprise he deserves.

I took a knife out of her kitchen drawer and cut a slice just for myself. I mean after all…. I did make the cake. Why can’t I eat it too?

fiction
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About the Creator

Dierra Sinches

Writing has always been a passion of mine. I am more than overjoyed to share my stories with you.

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