PAYBACK IS A BITCH

There is so much a woman can take before she snaps...

I HAVE BEEN MARRIED to my husband, Billy, for ten years. I have given him three wonderful kids, cooked his meals, done his laundry, and moved all over the country for him. What did I get in return? Lies, and lies, deceit, betrayal, and heartbreak.

'They said, "Revenge is a dish best served cold." Well, I have a well-prepared cold meal. I can't wait to serve my lying, cheating son of a bitch husband.

Before we dive into the tale that crumbled the walls of my perfect life and turned me into a woman with a dark heart, let's first get to know me.

My name is Isla Reinhardt. I was born and raised in a small town with a population of just over 100,000. My family was Christian, and Christian values were my guiding light. I was a good little girl who did everything her parents told her to do.

My parents never suffered from the headache of terrible teen years because I was the perfect child any parent could ever wish for. I did not have parties or attend one. I didn't sneak out of the house, smoke, or drink. I was serious about my academics and never brought home a boy.

I was a boring nerd to my peers but a perfect, good girl to my parents.

The only time I ever went against my parent's wishes was when I met Billy.

I met Billy in my early twenties, fresh out of college with a teaching degree. My parents had insisted I attend the community college close to home. They had screamed in abject terror when I suggested I wanted to attend one of the colleges in the city. To my parents, the city is a den of sin, filled with decadence and immorality that they feared would taint their innocent child, so they insisted I attend a college within a driving mile of our home, and not that alone, but that I attend school from home.

I did what my parents wanted and attended a community college nearby. Because I lived at home while I attended university, the university never touched me. Let me explain. When kids enter university, they see it as freedom to experience many things. I never did that. I was still a virgin when I graduated from college, and I had yet to have my first alcohol or attend a party.

My parents' plans for me after college were to get a job as a school teacher, marry a good Christian boy from our hometown, and give them grandkids, just like most girls in our town. Because of college, I was already late starting the second part of their plans, and as soon as I came home, they began to search for the perfect husband for me.

I was pretty okay with the first part. I already got a job but couldn't adhere to the second part. Why? You ask. Here is my answer: Most of the eligible bachelors in our small town were boring and didn't light a spark in me. The ten of them, Yes, my mother set me up with ten suitors before Billy. And that is why he was like a ray of sunshine when Billy came into my life.

I met Billy on a Saturday, and it began like every other Saturday: I rose with the sun, made breakfast for my parents, and then went for a grocery run.

Yes, I was still living with my parents after college. It was cost-efficient. Sue me.

The sunny and beautiful weather was another remarkable aspect of the day I met Billy. Although it had been raining nonstop the week before that Saturday, the sun smiled on everyone in town that day.

While grocery shopping at the local mall in our town, I ran into Billy–literally. I had parked my cart in the egg and milk aisle to check out the milk. I saw the one that met my standards, and I turned with no idea that someone was behind me and crashed into the person. Because I didn't anticipate this and had no working reflexes, the hard impact knocked me off balance, and I crumbled to the ground in an embarrassing heap.

The disgraceful fall caused my anger to flare up. I was a mild person, but the one thing I detest is embarrassing moments. It irritates me.

I looked up, ready to rain fire and brimstone on this unfortunate person, but the harsh words I had prepared to unleash died in my throat when my eyes encountered the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen in the most gorgeous face. His face was like a movie star's, and his eyes sparkled like a star.

I lost the ability to speak and could only gawk like a moron. My heart stirred at the sight of a boy for the first time. No, make that a man.

"Are you alright, Miss?"His deep, throaty voice washed over me like melted chocolate.

His voice enchanted me so much that his words missed me until he spoke louder.

I blinked and stared at him, dazed, my cheeks on fire.

He smiled faintly at my confusion and repeated,"Are you alright?"

"I'm...I'm fine," I replied nervously and tried to rise from the ground. He quickly offered his hand, and I did what every woman in my position would do when a handsome man gave you their hand.

I placed mine delicately into his broader ones, like a lady offering her hand to a gentleman for a kiss.

As soon as my hand touched his flesh, and he closed his around it, sparks, like electricity, shot through my hand to my entire body.

While he helped me off the ground, I wondered if this was a movie or a reality because I had only read about these feelings in films and books.

"T...Thank you," I offered shyly, unable to meet his eyes because I was nervous. You have to understand. I am not shy, but the beautiful man in front of me had me acting like a young schoolgirl in front of her crush.

"There is no need to thank me, and I am sorry for knocking you down," he apologized politely, his expression bright.

"It's okay," I quickly dismissed with a shy smile. At this moment, if he asked me anything, I would probably give it to him, no questions asked, and agree with everything he said, even if he said there is no God. That is how enamored I was with him.

"So, does the beautiful lady before me have a name?" He asked with a flirty smile, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

He is not the first to call me beautiful. I grew up hearing that often. Nobody has ever called me attractive, and it sent a tingle to my heart, but when he did, my heart fluttered like a hummingbird, and my face turned cherry red.

"Isla," I told him shyly.

"I am Billy," he said with a smile, stretching his hand to me.

"Nice to meet you, Billy," I said, shaking his hand. I felt the same spark I felt earlier, which told me the feelings evoked by the man before me weren't a fluke.

"The pleasure is mine." He beamed at me, his eyes reflecting his smile.

The encounter ended with Billy and me exchanging numbers. Billy's message pinged on my phone before I walked into my house that day, asking me out on a date.

On our first date, Billy told me why he was in town. He is a real estate agent who came to buy a property in our small town for his company, which is a third-party buyer: an abandoned old factory that the company is looking to turn into a restaurant and a bar.

It was an excellent date, and Billy sent me home with a smile and my heart humming the music of love.

For the rest of the dates, Billy wined and dined me into marriage within the three months he spent in our small town. I had insisted on no physical relationship during our dating, which might have contributed to our hasty nuptials.

Nah, I'm just kidding. We agreed to take the next step in our relationship because we were so much in love.

As you might already suspect, my parents were against our marriage. From the first moment I introduced Billy to them, they disliked him. My dad said he had shifty eyes, whatever that is. My mother had issues with our age difference---Billy is ten years older than I---and they both had problems with where he is from. Billy is a city boy, and city boys aren't to be trusted.

If only I had listened.