Alongside my tradition of one photo per day, I treat myself to one attempt to crack Jim’s password. I have tried once everyday, fishing it out from under the bed or wherever Jim has left it and give it a go. 

I’m still not in and I ran out of options four days ago. 

Out of habit more than any bright idea, I scoop the laptop up from the coffee table and check the clock on the fireplace. I have an hour till Jim arrives home. The laptop comes to life, that same little picture of Blue (Jim’s Avatar) comes on-screen with that same little bar demanding a password. 

There’s a new post-it note today. 

That is new. 

Getting wedding day date engraved on back of rings. 

Jim is not the type to leave memos around the place for himself. And it definitely isn’t for me. I snag my lip behind a tooth, recalling how Jim raced about the house this morning on his way to work. He didn’t even have time to have a coffee, having stayed up all night with me due to my most recent bout of sickness. 

I think long and hard. Is it a simple mistake? Did Jim mean to rip it off and crumple it up before I ever saw it?

The message itself is harmless enough. 

I let the idea go, no huge brainwave coming over me and just type the word - beach. 

The laptop comes up with its infamous X and I dump it back on the coffee table. I hadn’t hoped for anything, but I just couldn’t think of anything better. 

I make my way into the kitchen and put on the kettle. I’m going to treat myself to a hot chocolate, I don’t give a crap what Jim says about cutting back on sugar. I warm the milk and drop in some real milk chocolate to give it that extra boost as I mull over the day. Blue is snoozing in the middle of the kitchen, spread out like a giant fluffy carpet. 

An entire month of this life. 

But no. It isn’t a month. 

It’s a month since I woke up. But we were married before that, I just don’t remember it. 

My hand stops stirring, the milk burning but I’m lost in thought. Adrenaline fills me as I abandon my hot chocolate and tear upstairs. I seize the infernal wedding album and pour over the front. Jim has stuck our marriage license on the very first page, like a giant confirmation that everything was real. That we are indeed married and I did indeed sign my name and my entire life away to him. 

12/06/2019

The date we were married. Only three days before I woke up. 

My senses are tingling as I put the album back in it’s spot and fly back down the stairs. I check the time again as I seize Jim’s laptop. 

Twenty minutes.

Fuck it.

I type in the date, foregoing the slashes. 

12062019

The laptop thinks and then, the homepage dances before my eyes. 

I scream in triumph, my fists clenching together as my whole being shakes with victory. 

Finally. 

I dive for Jim’s emails immediately. I have to use all the time I’ve got, otherwise Jim may change the password and I’ll be at square one again. There’s hardly anything there, just work emails from the pool. Nothing juicy or revealing. I search for specific things - wedding. wife. Album. Ring. 

Nothing. 

I click out of Jim’s emails and go through his folders. Again it’s family photos, wedding photos and just Jim’s life. There’s nothing weird or out of place.

I can feel the surge of hope dwindling fast. 

It catches my eye, so fast I’ve already closed the file and have to re-open it. A lone jpeg file amongst endless tax documents, Jim’s budgeting and other expenses. The file name is jargon, but the jpeg alone caught my attention. 

I open it up. 

It’s a picture of a receipt. A jewellers with a big figure attached to the total. This is the receipt from my wedding ring. 

I zoom in as best as I can and there it is, the date. 

14/06/2019.

I’m no whiz at math, but I can do the addition. 

I woke up three days after the wedding - our wedding on the 12th of June. 

How could Jim marry me….without a ring? 

The key jiggles in the front door and I move like lightning. I close the folders and log out of Jim’s account. I place the laptop on the coffee table and run into the kitchen right as Blue comes flying towards the door. I collide with the mound of fur and I’m sent sprawling on the floor right as Jim’s voice floats towards us. ‘Hello boy, down! Yes I’m glad to see you to buddy.’

I pull myself up as Jim tears over to me, ‘Y/N, love what happened!’

‘Dog.’ I grumble, my hand jumping to the back of my head. 

Jim throws a mildly stern look at Blue. ‘Need some ice?’

I nod, blinking a few times. I push myself off the floor, watching Jim head into the kitchen. He returns with a pan in hand, ‘Love, were you trying to burn the house down?’

‘I forgot about that.’ 

It’s true, I completely forgot my desire for hot chocolate. The milk has congealed and burned into a disgusting mess of liquid burned chocolate. Jim makes a face, ‘I won’t ask what you were trying to do.’ 

‘Hot chocolate.’ 

Jim fishes the ice out of the fridge, ‘We spoke about cutting out sugar, Y/N.’

‘You did.’ I retort before I can help myself, ‘I was never onboard with it.’ 

There’s a pause between us. I hold my breath, waiting for Jim’s reaction. A smile breaks out on his face and he hands over the ice, ‘True. I did make the decision for us.’

I hold the ice on the back of my head, ‘And you know how I feel about that.’

‘Oh I most certainly do.’ Jim watches me tend to the lump. It’s aching a little, but I’m more than grateful for the distraction. ‘You still wanna go out for your treat?’ 

‘Depends on where we are going.’

Jim smile widens, ‘You know I love that spitfire voice of yours.’ 

That takes me off guard, ‘I thought you like me as your perfect little housewife?’

Jim steps closer, taking over the icing duty. He holds it gently to my head, ’I know you will never be my obedient little wife.’ He murmurs, ‘I wouldn’t want to change who you are, despite your confusion over everything. Your snark shows me that you are the woman I married.’ He places a kiss to my neck, ‘The woman I love.’

I shoot him back my own smile, ‘So where are we going?’

Jim takes me to the living room. He grabs the laptop and logs in so fast my eyes don’t have time to process it. My heart beats faster but I covered my tracks perfectly. Jim opens safari and navigates too Regal Cinemas. 

‘I thought a movie would be perfect for us. You can pick whichever you like.’ 

Jim pushes over the laptop. It’s the first time he has ever let me use it. I glance to him and then the listings. 

‘That…is a nice idea.’

It’s smart too. In a dark cinema who could ever spot us among the others. I inspect the movies and see that every single one is in 3D or 4D. Glasses too, to cover us up even more. 

‘Spiderman is good.’ 

Jim nods, ‘I’m down for that. I’ve seen every single Marvel movie.’ 

‘Me too.’

Jim sends me a warm smile, ‘We can compare notes then afterwards.’ 

He sends me upstairs to dress and I get ready as quickly as I can. Despite my latest revelation, I can’t deny the thrill inside me. I’ve been desperate to see something other than the house and the beach. To be in public again with my husband. 

To be somewhat normal. 

Jim approves of my choice of a lacey purple top. His eyes wander over my cleavage multiple times throughout the drive till we arrive into a parking spot. ‘We could forgo the movie altogether,’ He suggests, Jim’s hand squeezing my thigh.

‘Baby no.’ I protest, ‘I really wanna see a movie.’ 

Jim nods, ‘I know you do.’ 

He grabs the tickets while I queue for a snack. Jim joins me as I peruse the popcorn, ‘You know I like sweet popcorn,’ I say. 

‘I do.’ 

‘But sugar?’

Jim orders a large sweet popcorn anyway, ‘It’s your treat.’ 

I fight back a genuine smile as we show our tickets and enter the screening room. Jim’s hand holds mine tight as we make our way to the row. I drop my coat off, about to plop myself in the seat when there’s a shriek from above us. ‘Jim! Jim Mason!’ 

Jim’s head turns fast enough to give him whiplash. There’s a flash of white as a girl throws herself into his arms - Heather. 

She releases him just enough to recognise me, ‘And Y/N…you’re still together?’

‘Yes.’ Jim says before I can answer, ‘Very much together.’ 

Heather hugs me too, I think just for show. ‘Everyone’s talking about you two. I cannot believe I am the first to see the both of you. It’s been what-‘

‘Heather.’ Jim’s voice is stern, ‘The movie is about to start.’

  I ignore Jim, desperate for more information. ‘You mean since the wedding?’

Heather’s eyes bulge, ‘Wedding?’ She catches my ring, ‘Oh my fucking God. You eloped.’

‘You were there.’ I insist, my eyes flicking to Jim. 

He is lying to me.

‘Heather. Great to see you, but movie.’ Jim says, tugging me down beside him. 

Heather nods, ‘You have to fill me in after though.’ 

Jim nods, a curt thing which is more of a warning than anything else. The second Heather is gone, Jim laces my left hand in his, his thumb stroking my ring. ‘She’s so stupid.’ He says, ‘Fucking at the wedding and doesn’t remember a thing. She was probably wasted on the free bar.’

I don’t question him. Not out in public. Not when Heather may have just given me another nugget of valuable information. 

I mull through her words the entire movie, hardly taking any of it in, committing it to memory. 

Everyone’s talking about you two.

I cannot believe I am the first to see you.

Heather didn’t know about the wedding. She’s on Honour Roll, plus she would not forget her ex is now married.

Jim makes us leave before the end credits, insisting we can catch them on Youtube and everyone waiting is just a sucker. It’s an obvious attempt to stop me from talking to Heather and I let him have that tiny victory.

I have everything I need.

The ring receipt, Heather and Jim’s behaviour. 

If I married Jim Mason, there was no wedding. Which means the photo album is a fake. 

But how? 

Jim takes me straight up to bed that night. I settle into his arms without complaint. Jim’s at his best right now, he’s being a model man because he knows the wheels in my head must be turning. He presses little kisses to my neck, the big spoon to my little one. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’ He murmurs, ‘I don’t think I could go on.’

‘I’d want you to.’ I mumble my line on cue, ‘You have to promise me you’d carry on.’

‘Couldn’t.’ Jim reassures me, ‘I’m with you forever. Till the very end.’ 

‘Stop quoting Harry Potter.’ I smile, feeling Jim blow a raspberry on my neck.

‘Never.’ 

His hand slips around my stomach, Jim’s snores filling the bedroom. I watch the canopy drift in the breeze from the window cracked just barely open. I wait until I know Jim is completely unconscious before taking his before-bed glass of water with me and washing away all traces of the benzodiazepines. 

With any luck Jim will wake a little groggy but with no other side effects. 

But I’m no chemist, I wouldn’t even know about benzodiazepine if Jim didn’t take them regularly ever since we were dating.

I didn’t think he would ever dare to use them on me.

I toss the pill bottle into the trash can outside. Garbage collection is tomorrow, meaning Jim won’t be able to dose me with anymore of his ‘medication’ should something go wrong tomorrow. He’s got nothing but brute force against me now. The playing field is a little more even. 

Jim takes benzodiazepine fairly regularly, so his tolerance will be much lower than mine. I reckon I’ve got the night, maybe tomorrow if I’m lucky. I creep downstairs and take Jim’s laptop into the dining room with me. It might take all night to find a trace of those fake photos. 

And I need as much time as I can get before Jim wakes. 

It’s harder to stay away by four am. I’ve found nothing so far and my exhaustion is going to defeat me soon. 

Jim cannot find me asleep on his laptop. 

That isn’t an option. 

Five am and I find it. A folder tucked away inside a blank one. It too is blank, but when I click through the photos from the wedding album are there. But they’re different. 

I see the photo of Medina, beaming as my bridesmaid. But the photo before me has her with Jim. A photograph of me with my head on Jim’s shoulder has been completely re-edited. It’s like someone has played dress-up, swapping backgrounds and bodies out and pasting on wedding attire.

The more I look through the sicker I become. 

Fabricated. 

The entire thing was just a lie. 

At the very end there’s an email saved as a PDF.

Dear Mr Mason.

Here are the edits you requested. Naturally I cannot oversee the final product myself given my circumstances, but I have been informed it is some of my team’s finest work. I assure you those who created these pictures are among the best editors the foundation has. They are well equipped with smoothing scandals or incriminating people when the occasion calls for it. I can guarantee all were handpicked by me to run this business and are paid handsomely to ensure discretion. 

Why you would want such photos is beyond me, but I do not ask questions. 

I expect no mention of myself or my team to hit the tabloids, if there is a headline this contract will go public. Thank you for the money up front and I trust if you ever need my services again you will not hesitate to contact me upon my release. 

D Shepherd. 

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