Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Is that the door?” I asked in a hushed tone.

“No. My wife is out of town and the kids are with grandma. It’s probably just something outside,” he whispered as he put his finger to my lips to silence me.

We let the steamy water run down our naked bodies and the noise was forgotten. Nothing else mattered right now. I wanted to be in this moment - devouring the delicious man in front of me.

I knew his divorce wasn’t finalized, but for some reason, his tone as he said it hung in the air. I trusted him… I think. It didn’t matter. I was in love and we were soul mates. We both knew it was love at first sight, when we met at the cafe two weeks ago.

“There’s the noise again!” I stated assertively. This time there was no mistaking it. Someone was knocking, but who?

As the door slammed open, I smelled the faint scent of Chanel No. 5 and a mix of familiar hair products. Two steps. I counted two steps of high heels on the tile floor until I realized exactly what was about to happen.

“Shh. Be quiet. It’s my wife.” The nervousness filled his voice and his body. I watched him frantically try to hide the evidence… hide me. Why would he need to hide me? Was my “irrational fear,” as he liked to say, of him lying about this divorce right?

“I KNEW IT! You’ve been having an affair!” she screamed with a venom that poisoned me to an abrupt freeze, as she slammed the shower curtain aside. There we were, caught red handed and butt-naked. This was not good.

The two of them excused themselves to another room to talk. Although, there wasn’t much talking going on. Talking is done in a low volume and this reminded me more of the noises you hear during exorcisms in the movies. As I dried off, I tried to focus my brain, to gather information and determine the best course of action.

“I could always jump out the window,” I thought with a slight chuckle. I knew I couldn’t, but being irrational was my forte. I frantically searched the bathroom for anything that could be used as a weapon, in case self defense was needed, again, I’m irrational. I did hope it didn’t come to that though.

“Please come to the living room. I believe we need to talk,” he said in a timid voice. I almost didn’t believe that tone could come from a 35 year old man, but that it did. He led me out of the bathroom and into the living room, where his wife was sitting, glaring. I could feel the daggers from her eyes penetrating my soul.

“My wife and I had had a fight the other day. She said she was leaving, booked a flight to her parents and that was that,” he stuttered a bit, and the confusion was all over his face. My eyes darted back and forth between them as I tried to guess where this was headed, because now, my brain was foggy and my stomach was in knots.

I made a note of where the trash can was as the nauseating feeling took over my body. I had already slept with this woman’s husband, I didn’t need to add insult to injury and ruin her carpet.

“I’m so sorry. I thought she meant leaving for good, but apparently, she meant for a couple weeks.”

“Yeah. We are not getting a divorce. You don’t divorce a woman like me that easily!” the venom in her words made me queasy again.

“I’m so sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I did think I was a free man,” he said apologetically.

“It’s time for you to go,” the wife interrupted again, but with a much harsher tone this time.

She was right. I didn’t belong here. How did I get into this situation? My head was pounding, I could feel my heart racing and the knots in my stomach doubled. A brief moment of paralysis took over me, while I sat in disbelief and a tear escaped and rolled down my cheek.

Humiliated and heartbroken, I gathered the energy to walk to the door. The slam behind me reminded me in no uncertain terms that this was over. I lost the man I loved, because he made a stupid mistake… from a simple misunderstanding. Did I ruin this family? Did I ruin two people in love? I couldn’t think about it anymore. I took a deep breath, got in my car and began the journey home.

The new paint smell and fresh cut grass. The sounds of children playing in the street and their parents chatting in the driveway. The sun is shining, the whole house is bright, and you look around and soak in the symbolism of this perfect moment. Homeownership is one of the biggest moments in a person’s life, and is something celebrated worldwide. Today marks the beginning of a turning point, and you’re ready to conquer the world, and whatever it may throw at you. What could possibly go wrong? The last five years have been excruciating. The man you loved dumped you for a skinnier woman with shinier hair, your mother passed away, the world experienced a new pandemic, and you slaved away at a job you hated, but needed in order to make something of yourself. As life goes on, loss becomes inevitable, such as jobs, friends, family, money and motivation. However, you took these hardships and made the best of them, while you worked as much as possible to save every penny you could - and now… here you are, in your first home! It’s a modest house located in the outskirts of Savannah. As you walk through the door, you’re greeted with a bright foyer, a study to your left and a family dining room to the right. The open windows send a smile across your face as you admire the simplistic beauty of your surroundings. The memories of being a kid and being excited to pick which room is yours comes flooding back and a few tears escape. While touring the other 3 rooms, you begin to daydream about how you’ll decorate and make the place yours, you’re suddenly overwhelmed by an intense feeling of sadness and guilt, and you shudder from an unexplained draft. Was this buyers remorse kicking in or was this just your uncontrollable anxiety stirring up trouble again? You chalk it up to buyers remorse - you’ve suffered from it since you can remember, so surely that’s it. The last box has been brought in, the movers have departed and you savor the full body taste of your celebratory merlot. You grab your box cutter and get to work. The night is winding down, and you’re ready to get some sleep, but as you make the bed, something strange happens. You look around for the noise, checking doors, windows, but come up short. Where was that noise coming from? Another knock. But this time, you know it’s coming from your bedroom. After thorough investigation, nothing explains it, and it stops. Of course, this is odd, but it’s an older house and noises are to be expected, so you put it out of your mind and go to sleep. Knocking begins again. You check the clock - it’s 3:33am. Aside from being annoyed by being woken up this early, you’re also worried. What is this noise? As you open your computer and begin looking up history of the town, the neighborhood, the neighbors… You see it. The headline reads, “Horrific Family Slaughter: Still Searching for the Mother’s Body.” Dread. Goosebumps. Sorrow. The history of this house had not been disclosed, but you didn’t have time to deal with that right now. You close the computer and try to go back to sleep, only to be woken from a dream by screaming and knocking. You call the police, you explain what you saw in your dream coupled with the inexplicable noises. It seems they have dismissed you as another crazy, but they’ll send someone out anyways. As you think about the day, you realize that draft from earlier, had no origin. There was no vent where you were standing, so where did it come from? The banging on the door jolts you from your dazed state, and you let the officers in. The dogs signal them to a spot in your yard… the only brown spot in your yard. You offer them a shovel and they investigate. After a few minutes, a horrid smell covers the backyard. One of the officers gags, while curiosity overwhelms the dogs and they take over the digging, all too happy to do so. The smell gets worse and the hole in your yard is approaching 6ft deep. The dogs stop. There it is. The reason behind the smell and knocking. It wasn’t buyers remorse. This was your worst nightmare, and now you’ll have to relocate while they finalize the investigation of the no longer missing “mother’s body.”