Love stories always have the Romeo, strumming the strings of his guitar under the moonlight, singing up to the baloney of his beloved. Juliet and her wavy brass hair, smiling and returning his love through mere eye contact. My love has been different, I fell in love with the way his hair sat, the way he breathed, the little things that Shakespeare forgot to add into his two lover’s hearts. He fell in love with, whatever he saw in me. Together, we were the couple that ruled them all. We didn’t care what our parents thought of us, or our friends, we were so engulfed in each other it was sickening. But, that’s what they called love.
    We grabbed eachother’s hands and promised forever; even under sickness and health, till death do us apart. Tied to nothing but a golden band, with a simple diamond on it. When we finally got to move in together, share the same space, it was surreal. It was like my teenage dream came alive, I had my cuddle buddy next to me, I made him dinner, cleaned his clothes, and woke up by his side, every single morning. I was so utterly alive, in love, that the sun couldn't even stand how much I was glimmering. 
We were married for seven years, six of them were heaven. One was complete hell. That year started when he took me out to dinner. It was a exquisite restaurant, I haven’t been somewhere so fancy in a while. The prices of the foods were horrendous, and I felt extremely under-dressed for this certain occasion. 
“Wonderful place, isn’t it?” I beamed out with a goofy ear-to-ear smile.
“Mhm.”
“Almost like a palace, the chandeliers are crystals, the booths and staff are incredible. Don’t you think?”
“Mhm.” He continued to glance down at his phone, he seemed flustered as he loosened his tie. He’s never acted like this before, like he was so disconnected from the real world and trapped in social media.
“Is something wrong?”
“Naw.” He waved me off as he returned his attention back to his phone. It was like this for the first half an hour, until his phone rang. He was ghastly looking, and I could feel his adrenaline reverberating around his body. It forced its way out of every single one of his pores. 
“Aren’t you going to answer it?” I innocently asked.
“It’s work, they know not to bother me during my days off.”
“You should answer, what if they need you?”
“I don’t have to.”
“But, they may need you.” I pushed, and grabbed at his phone, but he snatched it away before my fingertips had time to graze it.
“You have no right taking my items whenever you please, you already use me for my money, isn’t that enough?” He shouted drawing all the attention to us. He looked around, shaking, and excused himself to the restroom. I was completely shocked, we haven’t fought over money for over a year now, so I didn’t understand why money was even apart of him answering his phone. After he disappeared, murmurs began to penetrate the air around me; suffocating me, did you hear what he said? Oh my god.  I was on the brink of tears, because of embarrassment and confusion. I could’ve swore on the screen on his phone I saw a name. Not any name, but a woman’s: Rosa. I didn’t want to think about that, Rosa could’ve been someone who worked in his office, checking up with him, I shouldn’t jump to the gun.  
It kept bothering me, more than it should’ve. I watched him, the way he acted with his phone was suspicious on its own. It was always firmly grasped in his hand, deleting messages, and never allowing me to use it even if it was to answer it for him. It was like he hid his phone out of fear. He started going out of the house more for unexpected errands. It wouldn’t be once every week, it would be every other day.
I followed him once and ended up parking in the lot of a old mall, that people rarely come to. He was standing outside the two glass doors, tapping his foot, impatiently. To be frank, he was dressed rather nice, he was wearing his favorite jeans, a pair of new shoes I didn’t recall getting him, and fitted-collared shirt. He wasn’t wearing that when he left home. I left at that point because I felt like I was becoming sick. But, I never stopped watching him, I continued following him out, finally seeing him with another woman.
I saw him kiss her lips, grab her hand and smile at her, his beautiful smile. A smile that was able to say a thousand things to your heart with the simple tug of his lips. But that smile, broke my heart. Things were still going the same at home because I played stupid and acted like I knew nothing. But, when I told him about our first pregnancy together, he gave a sarcastic yay, and became even more distant.
My husband, started coming home later than before. In the beginning, it was midnight, his excuse: work was crazy. Then his rationalizations were overused, they only made me feel worse about myself. They were like cassettes tapes droning on and on in my head I wanted to scream, I knew what was going to fly out of his mouth before he even said it. Work consumed him, and so did Rosa.
There was this time that he appeared with tousled hair at two A.M. when I was in my second trimester. It’s grease black surface had been caressed, his plum lips were stained a pale pink. Around his mouth was red as if he was furiously trying to wipe something away; lipstick. It was almost like I could see the unfamiliar  hand prints everywhere on his body, a body that was once mine. Once he felt my presence, he smirked, “Hey baby, sorry I’m late. The boss wanted me to stay late, to do,” pause, “ er paperwork.”  I gave him one of those sarcastic laughs, where it hurts to smile. I wondered if he could see how appalled I was through my coffee-stained teeth. I didn’t worry about getting pretty for him, he didn’t deserve it.
“Paperwork?”  I chuckled, unable to help myself. 
He scratched his head, avoiding my eye contact. “Why are you questioning me?”
“I called your boss, and he said you left when you were supposed to. Explain your way out of this one.” I crossed my arms.
The woman he wanted to look at wasn’t me, it bothered me to even think that, I bit the inside of my cheek, tasting betrayal. I’ve stayed up waiting for him, feeling our baby kick, and I was questioning our marriage every tick on our clock. This wasn’t the marriage a baby needed to be born in.
“I love you.” He said gently, moving his hand toward my cheek. He blinked fast pushing away wet vision, like window washers. “I would never hurt you babe, you’re my one and only, no one else.” He rubbed his thumb against my cheek. He pulled me in for a hug. I cringed, recalling him, with his arms against another woman, one with golden locks, rose-bud lips, not me. He lost his attraction toward me when I stopped showing my love to him, so he had to find it from someone else. No, he didn’t love me enough. I didn’t say anything, I didn’t wrap my arms around his broad figure. I hung there, attached to him like a stray thread, arms like rag dolls, hair like ratted nets. From then on, he started showering me with gifts, as if he was rekindling our love. He bought me my favorite flowers called, Dog Roses. That’s not their real name, but they remind me of us.
See, this flower is beautiful on the outside, but what people all think is that this living creature is worthless without it’s unfathomable symmetry. Their right, because our marriage is meaningless, it has lost all hopes to be splendid. We were now distant strangers, forced to breathe the same air, be in the same bed, share the covers. Everything that was once home to me became a murder scene. Our emotions splattered like crimson along the walls, our lies are the reason this love was put to death, and the gun in its decaying hand is the mistakes we thought we were stopping.
When I got sick of being in his arms, I pushed away, and walked to our bedroom. Laying in bed, I had a desire to stay in there forever. I found myself in bed blanket up to my nose, forcing saltwater out of my eyes all day, I dragged my feet every where in that house, because I began to lose hope in us.
Rosa, she stole him. He loved me, he did, until she came. That wrinkly old tramp, she was playing him. She was anything but pretty. I knew he would be back in a matter of time, crying and begging for my hand, embracing my knees, sobbing like a baby. He wouldn’t get me back. He’s going to wish he never left me for that old hag.
Every time I saw his headlights stretch along my cracked ceiling, I could smell her perfume on his clothes from the driveway. It was a putrid, engulfing his very existence.
The day I saw her pink lips smudged on the collar of his shirt, it became too much. So, I slipped off my ring, ignoring it’s false beauty and I placed it by him.
I looked at him, my chapped lips quivering, “I knew you were never real.”
I didn’t hear from him and he no longer returned home after we declared our divorce. From what I’ve heard, Rosa has him madly in love, and I’m still alone, caring for the baby he’s abandoned.
It would be better if we were dead, maybe, it would’ve showed that our love had meaning. In Romeo and Juliet, that was Shakespeare’s tear jerk-er, for what everyone called forever. But, I’m the one that looked like hell, while he looked like heaven. 
Rosa ruined us.