Is it possible to die from heartbreak? It has to be. Because with the way I'm feeling right now, death could be imminent.
I force myself to stand in the shadows, watching through the window as my wife of seven years have sex with our Pastor.
For over a year now, I had been suspecting her of adultery, but I had chosen to bury my head in the sand. Had my marriage become so dull because I was too focused on making money? I remember the nights I would be so tired I won't be able to even have a conversation with her, talk more of sex. Is that the starting point of all this? And with our Pastor! Of all people!!!
I had decided to follow her once I noticed she had begun to glow once more. That glow that could only come from good and regular sex. It reminded me of a time I used to put such glow on her. I became so engrossed in my work I didn't consider the toll it would have on my marriage. Just like I didn't notice she had lost the glow until it returned. And I sure as hell knew it wasn't my doing.
So, calling in sick at work, I had left the house, lying to my wife that I was going to work. Instead I hid in an eatery just across the street, keeping watch on our house until she left. Or someone entered.
Eventually, someone did.
Two hours later, a car pulled into our driveway. I recognized it at once as our Pastor's car. And I knew he wasn't here for any pastoral work. He got down, dressed in simple polo and jeans, and walked into my house, as though he owned the bloody thing. My wife had left it open for him. She was probably waiting for him in our matrimonial bed, naked as the day she had been born.
I walked round the house, staying in the shadows till I got to the bedroom window. And with a sick feeling in my stomach, I confirmed my suspicion.
Now, as I watch each stroke pierce my wife, I feel a hot spear go through my heart. Each moan of pleasure feels like flesh torn off my skin.
Still, I don't look away. I can't look away as they change position and she gets on top while he grabs her breasts. She had always loved when I held them during our lovemaking. Now she is screaming in ecstasy. She never screamed like that with me. Ever.
As they increase their speed, his thrusts go in faster and deeper, her riding is more fierce and rapid, their grunts and moan filter through the window to my ears. I'm sick. I'm disgusted. Yet, I keep watching.
My heart is breaking into shards, over and over again, trampled upon by angry horses. Unable to stand upright, I lean against the wall. Feeling my heartbeat pick up speed, as though trying to keep pace with the lovers inside.
There was a loud scream followed closely by a deep grunt, signalling their climax. They held on to each other as their bodies spasmed and trembled until they collapsed on the bed, entwined with each other.
It is then I notice my mouth is hanging open, and I've been holding my breath. Slowly, I try to steady my breathing, now that they're no longer mating, it's a bit easier to think.
Or maybe not. Because now all I feel is hot boiling anger well up inside me. How dare she? On our bed?
No longer trying to hide, I walk back, round the house to the front door and try to open it. Of course, it's now locked. I pound the door furiously.
What will I do when she opens? I have no idea. But one thing is certain. Only one man would be leaving this house on his two legs.
And I'm pretty sure that man will not be our Pastor.