Amina
Amina
490
After a week-long business trip, I was overjoyed to be back home with my wife, Amina. The night was filled with love and laughter, a perfect reunion that made the long days away seem like a distant memory. We cherished the moment, unaware of the storm that was about to hit.
Next morning, Amina sits down at the home computer checking local news, reading emails that had came in. Half an hour later, I came downstairs to the smell of burnt bacon, rubbery eggs, and half-cooked hash. Kitchen a mess, but more concerning was Amina's demeanor. She was extremely cold and distant. No matter how hard I tried to get her to open up, she refused to tell me what was wrong. Confused and hurt, I go to work, hoping that a day at the office might help me figure things out.
At the office, the secretary was frantically apologizing. She explained that there had been a mix-up with the emails, and a spicy email meant for a coworker had been accidentally sent to my home computer. Meant to be recalled, but it was too late. Amina had already read it and assumed the worst. Realizing the gravity of the situation, I frantically tried to call Amina to explain, but she didn't answer. I then tried texting, but still no reply.
Panicking, I left work and rushed home, my heart pounding with every mile. As I entered the house, the smell of burnt bacon still lingered in the air, but there was an eerie silence that filled the rooms. On the kitchen table, I found the email printed out, with a handwritten note from Amina. It simply said, "At my parents'. Do not contact me." Glancing over the email, it was easy to see why Amina would assume the worst. The words were intimate and suggestive, and it was clear she thought they were meant for me.
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. Amina had left, believing I had been unfaithful. I know I have to act quickly and explain the mix-up to clear my name.
Now, I only hope that she gives me a chance to explain. Losing her will be unbearable.
Amina
