The Fear Of Temptation

All that is gold does not glitter

J. R. R. Tolkien

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he event was venom and sparkles, caked with fake smiles and congratulations. It was the grand party of the year, the one where only the rich and garish were invited. It was how these parties worked, a smile painted on their lips and a glass of wine in their hands. And there they stand, the rich men in tailored suits, their wives made as showpieces. In their posh minds, the women were property and their lives be held in the palms of their men. They lived in lies, taught to be ashamed of their bodies. Love was disposed of, unable to thrive through their cold hearts. The women, robbed of their love and freedom begin to grow cold and distant which pillages their maternal ability to fully love their children. Their children then grow without knowing the true power of love. Thus birthing a loveless generation filled with power manipulation and control.

Through the hazy chatter, Diana indulged herself in inconsequential polite conversation with different gaudy people, Johnathan's arm was draped around her waist. She found comfort in him being near. She hated these parties with a passion and Johnathan was her only glimmer of light and escape from the sickening masqueraders in the room.

"I'll be right back, dear" Johnathan had said to his wife an hour in. He had spotted a group of very important men who would do wonders to his company if he spoke to them about shares, investments and all those boring business affairs.

Diana found herself near the table of neatly arranged finger foods, she grabbed a canapé and popped it in her mouth as she watched her husband mingle with a group of older men. She watched him, she took a moment to really study him, his physique, the way he spoke and carried himself. She was proud of him, the man who inherited his fathers broken business and built it up from ashes. The man capable of so much compassion and care. Why? Her mind echoed Why betray our love, Johnathan? She gulped down her wine glass in one go and continued to stare at her unfaithful husband. He seemed to have the attention of all the men in that group with the way he confidently spoke.

She watched as his eyes briefly flickered to the corner of the room where she stood. She was dressed in a casually tailored suit and her hair was salon-perfect. She had the air of one used to punctual service, her face poised, delicately painted with makeup, her manicured hand held a glass of champagne. His eyes flickered her way too many times for Diana's comfort so she averted her eyes from her husband and stared down at the empty glass in her hand whilst her mind busied itself comparing herself to that dreadful woman. She felt ugly at that moment, she felt unattractive. Her eyes began to glaze with emotions and her stomach began to throb with pain. She calmly placed her cup on the side of the table and before her tears broke through the layer of her eye, she rushed to the restroom where she let them loose.

She entered one of the stalls and sat on the cold toilet seat. She put her head in her hands, not caring about smudging her make up or ruining her perfectly styled hair. She quietly sobbed in her hands till her tears ran dry. She blindly rummaged through her purse and pulled out her bottle of pain medication, she shook out three from the container and threw them into her open mouth, swallowing them without the aid of any water.

As she slipped the bottle back into her bag she heard the door of the restroom open and in came two chatty old ladies that spoke of nothing but gossip and more gossip. Diana watched them through the slight slit of the stall door, the makeup they wore did nothing to hide how truly ugly they and their personalities were.

"I saw that young boy Johan talking to my husband before we came in," One of them said as she wiped off smudges of mascara on the side of her eyes. Her voice, high in pitch and cadence.

"Who's that?" The other questioned with distaste.

"Johan. Johnathan Lewando. Don't you know about his company? Gosh, Silvia" She huffed like a child when Silvia shook her head. "He's quite the handsome young man, I must say. Intelligent too. He singlehandedly repaired his fathers business when it crashed through the ground. Too bad he's married I could've snatched him up for Emily" The old lady pursed her lips and clicked her tongue in annoyance.

"He's married? Who's his wife?" Silvia questioned.

"Some bimbo who is clearly in it for the money. I even heard her father was a criminal"

Silvia let out a dramatic gasp, "Are you serious?"

"Honest to God. Heard it from my husband the other day. Apparently he's still in jail for attempting to fraud the senator" She began to whisper once they left the bathroom, their voices dying down as they got further away.

Diana sat there and stared at the marble tiles. She wasn't a gold digger, not even close. She hated money and the way it changed people. Yes, her father was locked up because of it, because of his lust for money. But his actions certainly do not define her. Her and Johnathan had met by chance in a hospital elevator, he was visiting his friend and she was visiting her dying mother, she hadn't even known about his wealth or fortunes. Now, she wanted to cry more than ever as she began to recall how she and him first met.

Before tears could emerge again, she decided to leave and fix her make up. Once she opened the stall door she was met with a polished mirror, her reflection drowned in sorrow. Black streaks of mascara striped her pale cheeks. Why she hadn't used waterproof mascara was beyond her. Nonetheless, she washed her face and reapplied her makeup, pinned her hair and dusted her clothes and with a final glance at the mirror she nodded at her reflection and took her leave.

Once she stepped foot out of the quiet restroom all she wanted to do was go back into the comforting silence and solitude of it. She dreaded the loud noise of chatter and soft music. It made her stomach clench despite her swallowing a handful of pills to calm it down. Yet once she saw who her husband was talking to, she was driven by newfound confidence and jealousy. She strode to where he stood and looped her arms around his bicep.

Slightly startled, Johnathan looked down at his wife, her eyes and nose covered by a tint of soft red which allude him to the idea of her crying. "Are you well?" He whispered in her ear taking hold of her hand on his arm.

She rudely disregarded his question and instead chose to gaze at his secretary, "Aren't you going to introduce me?" She innocently asked. Johnathan cleared his throat with a gentle cough and a twitch of his nose - a nervous habit that Diana was all too familiar with- he introduced her, "Yes, I apologize, dear. This is Samantha, my secretary. Sam, this is my wife, Diana" The nervous cadence of his voice had also not gone unnoticed by Diana but nevertheless she smiled and nodded at Samantha as if she wasn't the cause of her reckoning.

"Can we go home, John?" Diana asked once it got late, she had too many wine glasses and her feet felt like dead weight attached to stilettos that only anchored them down further.

The drive home was plagued with an unnerving silence that sliced through the cool air of the car. It was the odd type of silence, the kind that neither of them knew the cause of nor how to break it. Johnathan seemed too busy in his heat to notice the absence of sound in the car. So Diana decided she will speak through the silence, if she wanted to pretend she certainly did not want him not speaking to her.

"Johnathan, are you mad at me" She looked at him. She felt like she truly disappointed him for some unfathomable reason. Liked the way she spoke and interacted with people was not enough, she felt judged throughout the night, she was aware of their disapproval, words like poison being spoken behind her back. She felt underdressed and rejected. I embarrassed him. She though.

"No, Diana" He sighed and looked over at his wife. "Why would I be mad at you?" He questioned.

She took a moment to think over her words. She had not known how to express her thoughts into comprehensible sentences, they were at the tip of her tongue yet they refused to take flight. She wrung her hands and furrowed her brow. How was she to tell him that she wasn't enough for such a man of his caliber. How was she to tell him that he was wasting precious time with her while he could be out there doing what he does best. She felt selfish, all these years she held him back, she cut off his wings and hid them beneath her, beneath all her insecurities, problems and flaws. He had to deal with all her sudden panic attacks and mood swings. No wonder he found solace in another woman. She remembered her mother always telling her that men find insecure women unbecoming. And here she is being insecure and asking why he was mad at her.

She wanted to cry out her heart to ask why he didn't love her anymore. She knew why, she had many reasons but all she wanted was closure. She needed to know, to pinpoint what he hated about her. But, she let it go, deep within her mind it was buried and forgotten. She will leave soon and he will be freed, he will have his wings back. If he was happy then so was she. So she smiled a little and said, "I don't know. Maybe because I didn't raise my pinky when we drank tea"

He let out a warm rumble of laughter as he slightly tilted his head back. He looked back at her and laughed even more when she mockingly held out her pinky and sipped on imaginary tea, "Ah yes, indeed. Albert, fetch me a spot of honey. tut-tut" She said in a quizzical accent.

"Gosh, Diana" He laughed. That's why he loved her so. She was humble and sweet like a delicate flower that blooms in autumn. She was what kept him going through these dreadful events. He looked at her again and through the dim passing street lights that shone in the car, he noticed how much she'd changed. Earlier at the party, he was far too nervous and busy to admire her beauty and on top of that Samantha had wanted his attention all evening and he tried to ignore her as much as he could. He felt awful, whenever he was around her, it only brought out the guilt within him.

He wasn't sure, but she seemed paler and thinner than usual. Her eyes sunken and dull. He was shocked that he only noticed then. He felt even more ashamed in himself for not noticing sooner that his wife was clearly struggling with something. Did he really stop caring or was his mind clouded by his infidelities.