Desperate to ignite something in her marriage, Natasha tried her best. She went out of her way to arrange romantic evening at a popular restaurant in the city, she told Reynolds about it. He agreed and promised to meet her at the restaurant immediately he leaves his friend's home party.
It was on a Friday evening, Natasha got to the restaurant earlier and waited for Reynolds to meet her there. He was supposed to be there by seven, but she knew all too well the unpredictability of his evenings.
Every attempt to ignite a romance in her marriage felt like pouring water on to ashes. She just hoped and imagined the enchanting evening they would share, but there was an anxious flutter in her stomach.
As the clock ticked past eight, a familiar sound shattered her hopes. The door swung open, and in stumbled Reynolds, a cloud of whiskey and cologne trailing behind him. His hair was tousled, his eyes glazed, a roguish grin spreading across his face.
Natasha's heart sank, but she plastered on her best smile, determined to make the night special despite the circumstances.
"Hey dear wife!" he slurred, leaning casually against the table his wife was. "Didn't know you were throwing a party! I'm angry I didn't get an invite" he chuckled.
Natasha's heart twisted painfully as she guided him to the chair. "Just something special for us," she said, a trace of hope lingering in her voice.
She poured a glass of champagne, clinking hers against his, the sound more like a farewell bell than a celebration.
"Cheers to," Reynolds began but his gaze drifted over her shoulder, spotting at a girl he had met in a club. "Is that Liz?" he whispered.
Natasha looked back to check, but she didn't see anyone. "I don't see anyone Reynolds, but who is Liz?" she asked.
"What! Don't tell me you don't know Liz"
She looked at him confusingly as she didn't know who he was referring to.
"Common wife, Liz is the heart of the party, she knows how to vibe. I can't wait to get a lap dance from that bitch"
Natasha looked at her husband as he kept fantasizing about the mysterious Liz. "Reynolds, let's just enjoy our dinner together," she urged, trying to guide him back to the moment they were supposed to be sharing.
But as the dishes were served, he became restless. With each passing hour, their conversations ebbed, and Natasha's heart sank as Reynolds leaned back in his chair, eyeing other patrons in the restaurant. Each time a woman passed by, he offered flirtatious wink with a clumsy grin plastered on his face, and she felt her stomach knot even tighter.
"Did you see her?" he exclaimed, gesturing to a table across the way. "She looks like something out of a magazine. You know, I think you should try to look at her, I mean she's got this, well-endowed body, just look at that boobs." The inflection in his voice sliced through her.
"Reynolds," she whispered, fighting back tears. "Can we just focus on us?"
He chuckled, oblivious to her discomfort, and picked up his glass, toasting once again. "To beauty, right?" he laughed and Natasha could only nod, feeling the warmth from the champagne turn bitter in her gut.
As they ate, she made desperate attempts to steer a conversation, but he would nod absentmindedly, his eyes searching the room for distractions.
Finally, as the main course came to a close, Natasha snapped. "Reynolds, why do you keep doing this? I'm trying to show you how much I care but you keep humiliating and traumatizing me emotionally." Her voice cracked, vulnerability spilling out.
He paused, the alcohol-drenched fog in his mind momentarily lifting. "I'm just having some fun!" he exclaimed, defensively. "You can't blame me for appreciating beauty when I see it. Besides, I'm been real here, I'm saying the truth. So what's wrong with that?"
Natasha felt the heat of tears threaten to spill over. "I'm just trying to connect with you, I am your wife. I can't continue to live like a stranger around you. Why can't we just be like other married couples? Why can't we do what other married couples do? Why do we have to be so distant? Why?"
She paused for a moment trying to fight back the tears "I feel like I'm competing for your affection and attention. All I want is for us to just have a connection. Stop treating me like I'm some trash beside the road, please!"
Reynolds stared at her for a long moment, the weight of her words crashing down around them. The laughter, the charm, the flirty bravado fell silent only to be replaced by an unsettling stillness. He let out a deep frustrated breath. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way."
"I know," she murmured, the edge of desperation softening into an understanding. "But if you don't see me as your wife, then we would never have a connection. You never even laid with me."
As if realizing the depth of their chasm at last, Reynolds reached across the table, taking her hand in his, his touch surprisingly tender. "Let's start afresh. I'll try to be a good husband and give it to you anyhow you want it on our matrimonial bed, I promise."
Natasha squeezed his hand, feeling a flicker of warmth ignite amidst the embers. It would be a long road ahead, but for the first time in months, she could see a glimmer of hope. It wasn't too late for their marriage.