I let out a heavy sigh.
“Uhh oh. That doesn’t sound good,” she says, narrowing her gaze at me through the mirror.
“A lot of stuff with Zayn has been going on and I’m not sure what to think of it all.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”
There’s something therapeutic about opening up to my hairstylist. I feel the urge to spill everything to her.
So, I do.
After I tell her everything that has been going on, she curls her lips together and looks at me in the mirror. “Do you think he’s cheating?”
My heart and stomach drop, a heavy weight pressing down on me.
Cheating?
The word echoes in my mind, but it feels impossible. Zay wouldn’t cheat on me. Would he? I know my mind turned to it once before, but my heart stopped it from going any further. But now, hearing it from someone else looking from the outside in makes it feel possible. “Why do you say that?” I ask.
“With everything you said, it kind of sounds like it.”
“Like, what parts make you think that?”
Her movements slow down as if she might have opened a can of worms she shouldn’t have. “He’s been weird and distant lately and then accusing you of cheating. Usually, the ones who are cheating are the ones who accuse the other person of it.”
Could he be?
My mind races with a thousand scenarios. I try to push the thought away, to tell myself he’s not like that. He loves me. Hewould never. But this newfound feeling in the pit of my stomach is too heavy to let go. I let it go once. Should I again?
“Hey,” she says.
I look up at her reflection in the mirror.
“I’m not saying this to be an asshole or anything. I’ve had a lot of women in my chair confide in me, and a lot of what you’re going through sounds similar to their situation” she says with a wince.
“I know you’re only looking out for me. It’s good to know.” I shrug my shoulders. “Because you never know.”
I’ve been trying to focus on baking since my hair appointment earlier today. But this nagging feeling keeps my mind wandering back to what Cat said. I’ve been tracing every step back to the time Zay started being distant until now. Nothing seems to make sense. Is it because I don’t believe he would do such a thing? My heart tells me one thing, and my gut tells me another. I’ve always heard to trust your gut, and I always thought I would if I was ever in this type of situation. But now that I’m in it, it’s so hard to follow my gut.
The smell of something burning swirls in the air. I jump up and run to the kitchen. I open one of the oven doors, waving the smoke away. I grab an oven mitt and pull the muffins out and place them on top of the stove. And then I open up the other oven and grab those muffins as well.
Shit.
They’re all burned. There was no timer set on the oven. Why didn’t I set a timer? I lean my hips against the counter with myhead hanging low. With everything going on, I forgot to set the timer. Now I have to remake these and all I’ve wanted to do since waking up this morning is to curl up in my bed.
I lift my head up, walk over to the kitchen window, and open it to let the smoke out. The sun is setting. I didn’t realize how late it was until now. I groan as I grab the ingredients I need to remake these muffins. The shitty thing is, I was supposed to have these done last night, but with what happened, I didn’t make them. I always make sure I’m ahead of schedule, just in case. This is a prime example because now this has to be done by tonight. It’s for a corporate company that is serving breakfast for a morning meeting.
The sound of the door closing echoes through the kitchen. Without looking over my shoulder, I already know who it is. I didn’t expect Zayn to come home on time after work. If he’s even been at work? So him walking in after the sun is setting is no surprise.
“What’s that smell?” he asks with a crinkled nose.
I avoid looking over at him and say, “I burned some muffins.”
“Oh great, now the house stinks,” he says sharply.
I drop the spatula, pivot around, and glare at him. “This happened because of you.”
“Me,” he says with a small smile on his face.
