It had been a hard day. A very hard day. He had gotten to work late, his boss warned him about his performance, and his car had broken down on the freeway. He called a tow truck to get it to a repair garage before calling himself a cab. He was just grateful that he still had someone to go back home to.
As he got out of the cab, his neighbor was grabbing the mail. She waved and walked over to him, much to his dismay. He took a deep breath and faked a smile.
"How are you holding up?" she asked as he shrugged. "I heard that the funeral was yesterday. I'm so sorry I didn't go."
"It's fine. Actually, if you wouldn't mind, I would like to forget that happened. And it wasn't a very large funeral, so there wasn't much to miss," he offered, giving a sorrowful smile.
"Still, that was careless of me, and she deserved better," she continued.
"She deserved a lot of things," he mumbled, emotion leaving his face. The neighbor took a step back, surprised by his remark.
"I-if you need anything, my wife and I are here for you," she stuttered before retreating to her home. He watched as she left before unlocking his own door.
He took a deep breath and sighed as the door opened. He lit his relaxer candles around the house and made a cup of tea. Chamomile was what he usually went to, but he chose a light lavender tea instead. He felt that it tasted better when he was in the presence of the candles.
"Honey?" he called out. No one answered. With a shrug, he sat down on the couch and turned on the television. He guessed that she was resting, as she usually did when he came home.
After watching a few tv shows, he stretched and walked upstairs. He peeked into their bedroom and sighed. She was under the covers with the lights off. He closed the door and went into the kitchen.
He pulled out some angel hair pasta and emptied into a pot of boiling water. It had been a while since he had cooked for her, but he thought it was important to once in a while. The passed week, he had been working late into the night. So, he was going to make it up to her by making her favorite dinner.
He placed out two plates and piled spaghetti onto each, topping them with grated parmesan and chopped parsley. He placed both plates, two wine glasses, and a bottle of wine on a platter before taking the dinner upstairs.
He nudged open the door with his foot and greeted the woman on the bed. He placed the platter on the nightstand next to her. Leaning over her, he kissed her forehead before helping her lay on her back.
"Dinnertime," he whispered as his ringtone sounded. He groaned, looking at the phone. It was the funeral home, and he took a deep breath. He apologized to her and left into the hallway. "Hello?"
"Hello, sir, this is Lark's Funeral Home," the voice asked before confirming his identity.
"What can I help you with?"
"We have some bad news. It seems that the plot that you bought has had some... issues."
"Issues? What kind of issues?"
"It seems that the plot has been... dug up."
He didn't say a word in response.
"The body is missing."
"Well, don't you have security cameras? Do you know who did it?"
"It seems that our surveillance system shorted out during that time. We are investigating the disappearance, and we wanted to keep you in the loop, so to speak."
"I understand. Please call me if there's any new leads and so forth."
"Of course, sir. Have a good evening."
He ended the call without responding and pocketed the phone. Slowly, he inhaled and relaxed again. The man walked back into the bedroom and set up a tray to set her dinner on.
"Sorry about that. Someone called about a problem, but it won't affect us at all," he informed. He grabbed his own food and wine before sitting next to the woman. He popped open the wine and poured them both a glass. "Careful, don't spill."
He turned on the television across from them and watched a crime show that he knew was her favorite. He never loved the show, but tonight wasn't about him. It was about her.
Once he finished, he placed the plate and glass on his nightstand. He watched the end of the episode before he stood up again. He stood over the bed and looked at his wife. He smiled.
"I'm so glad you've forgiven me," he whispered, walking to her side. He grabbed the tray of uneaten food and placed it on the dresser. "I hope you enjoyed dinner. I made it just for you."
Silence filled the room as he turned around. He knelt by the bed and grabbed her cold hand, cracking with the movement. He admired her eyes, still vibrant and beautiful. He kissed her hand.
"I'm so sorry things happened the way they did," he whispered, staring into her unblinking eyes. Even though he had stolen her life, she was still his dearly beloved.
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