The Girl Behind The Profile Pic

She woke up 30 minutes earlier than him, the normal for their routine. She liked to do a little yoga right before brewing their morning cup of Joe.

She did her yoga, popped on the coffee pot, and went to head into the shower.

"DING!"

She and her husband had the same Iphone ringtone, and kept their phones charging side by side on their dresser. She walked over to read the pop-up notifications and thought

"That's odd."

It was actually her husband's phone, it was a blocked notification, all it showed was the symbol of a strange message icon.

"Hmmm."

She realized she recognized the Icon.

It's the same one her best friend is always showing her, the new dating app for singles.

She heard her husband start to shuffle, so she set the phone down and decided to climb in the shower to think it over.

Just a moment after starting the shower, she felt the glass door open and steam rushed out. There stood her husband, a year ago, this is where he would have once joined her and they would have made love.

But he simply looked at her and said

"I said I needed to shower by 6:15."

Scoffed, and walked off.

"What the fuck is going on right now?"

All the rest of the day she felt sick to her stomach. She regretted not opening the notification. She questioned the right course of action. Should she just bring it up to him? But what if he deleted it, and he will just call me crazy.

"Do I need more proof? Is it going to be enough for him to admit it if I have no evidence?"

She'd been through this before.

She remembers how it went before.

She didn't want to end up feeling that crazy again. She needed more proof.

Dinner time came, she decided on Crock-Pot Chili.

He was late.

No call.

No text.

"Are you alright?" She asked, thinking she will give him a few minutes to respond before she calls.

Nothing.

She turned the Crock-Pot to warm, and turned out the lights in the kitcken.

Almost two hours on the dot late, there came her husband, walking through the door.

"Sorry I didn't call, I got tied up in the office and just wanted to get it finished."

He said kissing her on the cheek and proceeding into the bathroom. She heard the shower turn on, and her stomach again became the victim of a thousand knives.

She layed in her bed and thought it odd that a tear began to roll down the side of her cheeck, because inside she felt totally numb. She lay there and questioned if she were making assumptions and he really was just late in the office. Then she thought about that app icon, the way he'd been distant, his moods. Something was very wrong.

Before she knew it, she drifted into what would be her dreaming, into the void of emptiness.

She felt a wave motion and opened her eyes, as she came into the realization that her husband was climbing into bed.

"Thanks for the chili. It was good. I cleaned up."

He kissed the back of her shoulder.

Another silent tear fell.

And there she waited, for signs that he was deep asleep. As soon as the snoring began, she quietly shifted her body weight to make her exit not as noticeable.

She walked up to the phones, staring at his for a long moment, deciding if she had the courage to follow through and see, what she would be devastated to see.

She wouldn't be gaslighted again.

She gave one cautious glance back his way, then reached for his phone. She stepped around the corner and into the hall. Well he didn't password protect his phone, so that's a good sign.

The light shone bright in the hall as it illuminated her face. She took a few steps away from the bedroom door.

Of course, she didn't find anything right away. It all looked normal. Until she went into the notification settings. She clicked on silenced, and started to scroll. There it was, a few scrolls down, that cringeworthy icon. The nausea crept back.

She clicked on the icon and there it was, his profile. Using his work picture in a suit with his face etched out. Her finger floated above the message icon, did she really need to see more?

She needed to know if she was right about his whereabouts tonight.

She entered his messages, quite a few girls he was messaging, but they all had older dates, except one, Hannah.

Hannah was pretty, long light blonde locks. She was young, well younger.

She scrolled through the messages. Bingo. The Saltair Hotel.

She saw enough. She packed some of her things quietly, climbed into her car, and went to a motel. She was never going to take that treatment again.

The next morning she awoke, she stared at her husband's face for a brief moment, remembering her bold dream. Wishing she was that brave.

She got up, did her morning yoga, and flipped on their pot of coffee.