The Woman At The Door by Daniel Hurst (books successful people read .TXT) 📕

get across how seriously I took this whole situation. I didn’t smile, or frown, or laugh. I just told her what she needed to hear and left her to decide what to do next.

She might hate me. She might believe me. Or she might be taking Sam’s side.

But one thing is for sure.

She won’t be able to forget me.

That’s the main thing. That’s all that tonight was really about. Like that first blow from the chisel on the stone pillar. It won’t bring the whole thing down. But it is a start. It will let the pillar know that it is in for a war, and that’s what Rebecca and Sam are in for now.

A war.

Tonight was just the opening battle, and I won that.

I have no doubt that I am going to win the war too.

Why wouldn’t I?

I haven’t lost one yet.

6

REBECCA

What was I saying about Saturday nights being the best nights of the week? This one has been terrible, easily the worst night of my marriage so far, but as bad as it’s been, it’s not over yet. That’s because I can’t go to sleep until I have a better understanding of what happened here a couple of hours ago with that woman at the door.

I’m in bed, but I’m sitting up and waiting for Sam to finish what he is doing in the bathroom so that we can talk. We’ve had a little break from analysing the upsetting incident, although only verbally. Mentally, the questions are still running amok in my head, and I imagine they will be for quite some time.

There wasn’t much I could do to forget about it. Clearing away the dirty dishes after the takeaway didn’t help. Nor was I in the mood to continue watching the film, which meant we turned the television off; that paused movie now likely to go unfinished forever because watching the rest of it at a later date will only remind me of this night again. I’ve tried browsing social media because that’s usually good for a distraction, but it only ended up making me feel worse, as social media has a tendency to do. That’s because I saw plenty of photos and statuses from married friends, many of whom were out for a meal tonight or on holiday somewhere having a great time, looking like they were very much in love without a care in the world. Normally, I would have been liking all those photos and adding a few positive comments beneath them, but not tonight. All those status updates did tonight were remind me that my relationship is far from perfect.

Unlike those happy people online, I do have a care in the world.

I hear the toilet flush in the bathroom and prepare myself for Sam’s arrival back into the bedroom, where we will once again pick up the conversation and try to get to the bottom of what went on here tonight. As I decided earlier, I believe my husband and will continue to trust him despite what has happened. I have to do so because it’s his word over the word of a complete stranger who offered no evidence to back up her claims, so my husband’s word carries far more weight.

Sam has already brought up the possibility of it being somebody who was playing a prank. Perhaps the woman had enjoyed one too many drinks today and decided to have a little ‘fun’ on her way home. Maybe a friend dared her to do it, and she might have been hidden out of sight somewhere watching on and getting a good kick out of it. That is one of several possibilities, and it’s the one that I would like to be the truth, although it doesn’t explain how the woman knew our names. If it’s a prank, I can handle it because it means that my husband has not strayed and that he is still the loyal and loving man whom I married. But the problem if it is a prank is that the perpetrator of it is hardly likely to come back again and let me know that was the case. Therefore, I’ll never totally be sure.

There will always be a doubt at the back of my mind.

The toilet door unlocks, and I watch the bedroom doorway for Sam to appear in it. When he does, he has something else to say to me to presumably try and put my mind at ease.

‘Look, I know this has been a horrible night, but the more I think about it, the more it has to be a prank. The problem is, that would mean it was set up by somebody who knew both of our names, and I’m not sure who would want to do that to us.’

I shake my head, mainly because I have no idea of who that could be either but also because I still can’t believe this has happened. If it is some kind of a joke, it’s a sick one. Who has the right to go around and potentially blow up people’s marriages just for a cheap thrill? The initial anger I had for my husband is now directed at the person or persons who had the idea to do this, and I wish I could get a hold of that damn woman and give her a slap for coming to my door and telling lies. But I can’t. She walked away, and I was too stunned to go after her. If only I had chased her down the street, maybe I could have found out what all of this was about. Instead, I’m left sitting here in my bed, looking at my husband with a slightly different perspective.

No matter how much I tell myself that I trust him and believe his side of the story, which is that there is no story, there is still that little voice telling me that the woman was speaking the truth and she was trying to help me by revealing the