❝ What do you do when you find out that your husband isn't really who he says he is? ❞
This is a dark genre book. Read the disclaimer and continue if you wish. If you get triggered or offended past the disclaimer, you've been warned.
━━ Starring Mic...
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THE WHITE RESIDENCE FRIDAY 6:53 P.M.
"Now where did I put that damn wooden spoon again," Geneviève sighed, losing track of her cooking utensil.
While she was rummaging through the kitchen drawer, the pot of water on the stove began to boil over. The sound of the water hissing as it hit the burning stovetop made her stop and rush to turn the burner on the lowest setting before continuing to search for her lucky wooden spoon. She swears without it that her dishes tastes terrible.
Soon as she found her favorite wooden spoon hiding deep inside the dishwasher, she began to prep by chopping and dicing the tomatoes and onions. She was making her husbands favorite dish. It was a Friday night and he deserved it after all; working hard throughout the weekdays to provide for his family.
There was a point in time when Geneviève didn't know a single thing about cooking. On one of the first dates she went on with her husband all those years ago, she decided to cook for him. It didn't go as planned and the smoke detector in Isaac's kitchen went off for the very first time. Good thing he called for Chinese takeout that night, or else they would have been left starving with salmon burnt to a crisp. But it all takes time and practice, now she's got five hungry mouths to feed every night, including herself of course.
In short distance from the kitchen to the main entrance of the house, the lock on the door handle began to click and jingle. The door slowly creaked open. In crept Isaac White, the man of the house, from a hard days work of coaching his players on the football team and being a Phys Ed. teacher at one of local high schools in their town.
He heard noise coming from two places inside the unlighted house as he hung his keys on the wall. From upstairs and in the kitchen. His children definitely weren't the ones cooking up a storm in the kitchen so he knew his wife was in there. Walking through the dark corridor, he stopped by the laundry room to throw his duffle bag, filled with dirty sweat filled clothes, down so they could be washed later sometime during the weekend.
