Music to His Ears

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/51745558.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandoms: No Fandom, Original Work
Relationship: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Characters: Original Characters, Original Female Character(s), Original Male
Character(s)
Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Cheating, wife - Freeform, Husbands, Caught,
Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Random & Short, Short Story, One Shot,
Short One Shot
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-11-21 Words: 334 Chapters: 1/1
 Music to His Ears
by anotherohmygod

Notes

i wrote this in like 2020 it was a depressing time but i wanna put it somewhere but its
incredibly short
The silence echoing throughout the house was almost overbearing. she sat at her piano, as she
did everyday and brushed across the keys dismally thinking about her life. He, however, sat
slumped in his chair thinking about anyone but the woman he married sat in front of him. Her
husband seems to think that she’s unaware of his late nights, his distant emotions, the letters.
She had known deep down that he wasn't being faithful. She wasn't surprised by his infidelity
but she was displeased by it. he would come home later and later after ‘work’ and spend his
time either in silence, or complaining about her songs she played.

He had never allowed her out of the house and would throw accusations at her whenever she
did leave, which she found painfully ironic but she held her tongue. After today everything
will be fine. Her problems would be gone. She stood to set the table for dinner with a smile
and called her husband to sit.

She watched slowly as he ate, the smile spreading across her face as he started spluttering. He
clutched his chest and looked up at his wife in horror as she sat opposite him, continuing her
meal nonchalantly as she pulled something from her lap and set it on the table, sliding it over
to him. Squinting, as his vision fades in and out, he’s finally able to focus on the items on the
table, the letters he’d been exchanging with his other woman. Ironically, the last thing he saw
before collapsing to the floor was the very thing he would accuse his wife of doing. Was he
narcissistic, guilty or just plain stupid? We’d never know. She rose from her seat and drifted
over to the piano, ensuring the last thing he heard was her song. A song she’d written just for
him, just for this moment. The same song he’d complained about being too slow and
emotionless. Fitting, as his death was one in the same.
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