This is a story of fiction. All relevant characters are 18+. Enjoy.
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February 10th.
4 days.
4 fucking days until I was going to make 18 months with Rachel, permanent. Little did I know that a series of events and one thing she "conveniently" never told me, would destroy everything.
Sitting in my hotel room, I received a thumb drive from the private investigator I hired 6 weeks earlier. Watching it with gut-wrenching heartache, I learned my fiance was cheating on me. Not with one person. Or two. Rather, three. Now, 20% of the videos were with 2 different men, both 20 years or more older than Rachel. The other 80% were with the 3rd person, probably in his 20's.
The two older men were here bosses at her real estate firm she works for. Clearly rotund in stature, just the site grossed me out. Sitting in my folder on my computer were a stack of text messages, hotel receipts, dinner dates, flight reservations disguised as "business trips or team building exercises" that were brought together based on the relationship she had with the two men. The 3rd, coincidentally, had no paper trail that I had access to. When he suddenly popped up out of nowhere on the radar of my P.I the evening when I'd left on my current business trip, the only thing I knew was, he is black. I also learned over those last 2 plus weeks, he's been her primary....source. Having never seen him once in all the other previous takes, I was beside myself.
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Before I continue, I think you all should know who is telling you this and the back history.
My name is Robert Morris. I am a 40 year-old Sr. systems analyst for a large tech firm here in Maryland. I'm the typical "nerd" everyone stereotypes. Pocket protector, glasses, the un-ironed button up shirts. 5'7 140 lbs. I have brown hair, brown eyes. Never having been married prior, I worked my way up to my current position.
I met Rachel Petrov 32, 18 months ago at a Real Esrate symposium I'd attended with a friend for moral support. She was at a booth, passing out brochures and talking with people. I had just purchased my own 2 bedroom apartment downtown, a few months earlier, so when I saw her, she immediately caught my eye. At a petite 5'3 110 lbs, her figure was eye catching. Most people go gaga over "boobs and butt" and even though her 32C breasts are nice, her best feature bottom line, are her legs.
Not a glamour queen by any stretch, she was more the "Plain Jane" type. Attractive, yet in a confident way. More the school marm type, she was demure in stature and wore glasses with her beautiful brunette hair pulled back in a bun. A pug nose, it fit her face, fantastically.
Walking up to her booth, I proceeded with small talk, joking how, "If this symposium was a few months earlier, I'd have hired her as my realtor." Ultimately, yet surprisingly, I secured her phone number and after having coffee and scones at Starbucks a couple days later, we developed a committed relationship, quickly.
From our first dates, I thought she was honest and open about her life. Listening intently, yet fully interested, she detailed how, at 13, she had been raped and became pregnant. Admitting she immediately aborted the baby at the behest of her mom and stepdad, she said therapy benefitted her greatly.
She was open about her preferences of men she dated and her "body count", not seemingly afraid of transparency. She said she chose to date black men because her own mother had been married to a black man who was her stepdad until he passed when she 12. He was the kind of man who treated her mother like gold. Always patient and kind, he accepted Rachel as his own.
But after choosing the wrong partners, those who were abusive, possessive, two-timers, etc, her decision to start dating white men didn't start off any better. She conceived her daughter, Mila, from a one-night stand she'd had at a friends engagement party.
Rachel relished in the fact, that although she has had many failings in her dating life, she was proud of her accomplishments as a real estate agent. Working for Parker Real Estate, Rachel began as an intern at 23 and had, proudly, gained respect throughout the community as a reputable professional.
As our relationship blossomed, I honestly couldn't believe how I managed to win her heart. I know it wasn't my looks, but I was just happy she had also chosen me. Slowly, she would begin integrating me into her daughters life. We'd go to the park, out on walks, take her to eat ice cream, etc. I found myself eating at her house most nights and then spending 3 nights a week there.
When I asked her to marry me, It was in August. We'd been together a year, and so it was only fitting I bent down on one knee and. on my 40th birthday, ask her for her hand in marriage.
"Rachel," I began in the kitchen of her home, spaghetti sauce on our aprons and a messy counter. "Will you grant me the honor of marrying me?"
Excitedly, she immediately screamed. "YES!! oh my goodness, Robert, Yes!" Taking her hand, I slid the 1.5 karat, diamond-studded, snow drift, oval-cut ring over her finger. "Thank you! Thank you!" She said, hopping up and down in her nylon clad feet. "Mila," Rachel said, bending down to her daughter, "Robert and mommy are getting married!" Later that night we made love in her bed.
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Over the course of the next month, things went as one would gather. I'd go to work, she would sell homes. Life was grand. Beginning wedding preparations early, Rachel threw herself fully into it. With assistance from my mother, my sister and my sister-in-law, the girls would meet at Rachel's house, looking over wedding magazines. Searching for venues one Saturday as I was barbequing in her back yard, She and my sister came out back.
"This!" Rachel gleefully stated. "This is were I want our wedding." An overview of the area showed a meadow overlooking a lake. A cabin off to the left, with, what looked like a renovated barn capable of holding reception type events. Putting down the tongs I was using, The girls briefed me on everything.
"It's $10,000," Rachel said, beaming. "They ask for a $2500 deposit with the rest paid 30-days before the event.
No hesitation or pause at the price, I just told them, "If this is what Rachel wants, then book it." A week later, Rachel showed me an email confirming Feb 14th as our wedding date. How fitting right? The day of lovers. Her dream wedding.
Little by little, inquiries about DJ's, Floral arrangements, catering began to take place. Balancing her career and the arduous task of planning our wedding, I didn't notice a subtle change until 6 weeks after my proposal. Harkening everything up to the stress, excitement, and dedication needed to pull a wedding together, albeit helping people purchase and sell homes and raising Mila, I never once had any reason to question these changes. All in all, we were in about $22,000 for 100 guests.
I offered to help with planning, but one night, as we were eating dinner, I noticed the exhaustion on her face. "Rach," I'd begin, concern in my voice. "Look, delegate more of the tasks to my mom, Beth, or Cindy. You've been going full steam." Brushing it off, she'd assure me everything was alright.
The week after Halloween is when more changes began to crop up. That Monday, I'd received a call from Rachel from her office having to cancel our holiday plans. Claiming she'd forgot to alert me that she'd made plans a month ago to go to Baltimore to "spend it with a friend."
"You told me you had a business trip this week Robert," reminding me of the revelation a few weeks prior. "I didn't think you'd be in town so I had accepted an invite for Mila and I." When it was cancelled a week later, I reluctantly understood and let it go. Spending a week without her wasn't what I'd had in the cards, but with all the stress and anxiety she was under, I wished her well.
Into October plans we'd make, suddenly were cancelled. Dinner dates, weekend getaways planned for months, cancelled. Each time she'd go, myself, my mother or my sisters would stay with Mila.
