Diary

This is a work of fiction.

Testing out a new writing style whereby descriptions such as ‘ Co*k Fu*king into her c*nt’ & ‘ ergnhh ernghhh ernghh!!! ‘ are totally removed.

I’m quite happy with the results, which i felt is a really good tease for both sexes.

This is in essence a concentrated dose of erotica where body parts don’t take center stage.

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Would you read your wife’s dairy ? Are you sure you want to know what she has done ?

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My wife, Dawn, keeps a physical diary.

Really old school pen and paper kind of diary.

It’s just her way of destressing and keeping track of what happens in her life.

It started as a way for her to practice her writing back in secondary school and it eventually became a habit. One that she kept till this day.

Now, a dairy entry is private stuff. You don’t go around flipping through other people’s diary even though she is your wife.

I’ve never once read what my wife wrote in her diary even though they were all lined up neatly on the shelf inside the shared study.

It’s all there.

The spine of each volume is properly dated and I could see the years starting from 1997 going all the way to 2020.

Am I curious ? Of course I’m curious but then again, Dawn has nothing to hide.

I know how many boyfriend she has before me, I know what they did. I know where they go for their holidays.

She told me everything.

So what if she is not a virgin ?

So what if she has had sex with someone else other that me ?

What’s the big deal ?

Everyone has a history.

In this day and age, you really expect to find a girlfriend who is untouched ?

Don’t kid yourself.

I consider myself blessed and lucky to have Dawn. She is every bit the women I imagined I would marry when I was old enough to start to think about girls in a way a man should.

I know how I want my girl and I made a conscious effort to keep a look out for my type.

I’ve had a few relationships before I met Dawn, and when I got to know her, I knew she was the one.

In terms of looks, she’s perfect.

I like my girl petite, but also with a decent figure.

Sometimes petite girls are either too skinny or too plump.

Dawn is just nice.

At 1.58cm, Dawn is blessed with a nice pair of legs and perky bums.

Her breast is a full B cup. Quite a handful for someone who is not exactly into big tits.

Her skin is naturally fair and her spunky and outgoing nature just clique with mine naturally.

Throughout the years of dating, we only had one major quarrel which stem from a misunderstanding. Other than that, we’re good.

The envy of other couples among our friends.

Dawn and I are really opened with each other and we know each other’s password to our emails, our bank account and even the phone’s unlock sequence.

There are no secrets between us.

At least that’s what I think.

I once teased Dawn if she is afraid I will read what she writes in her diary.

James : aren’t you afraid what I will find… ? your deep dark secrets…. ?

Dawn : You mean all the time I was angry with you and chose to write it down instead strangling you….  ?

I laughed and kissed my wife on her cheek as she rolled her eyes at me.

Well, it’s common sense isn’t it.

If you really have something to hide, why would you put it out like this ?

I was never interested in Dawn’s diaries, I never touched them.

Until one afternoon when I was balancing my laptop on one hand while holding a coffee on the other.

I was in the middle of a video call when I needed to grab something from the courier at the door.

Up till now, I was unsure why I could not put the coffee down and free up my hand to hold the laptop. Maybe it’s true that they say things happen or a reason.

I collected a registered mail from the courier and gripped it in between my fingers what were also holding onto my coffee mug.

Nodding to my colleague on the laptop, I walked into the room and I dropped the letter. In my attempt to try and grab it, I spilled the coffee as well, splashing a good amount onto the floor and onto the shelf where my wife keeps her diaries.

James:  Oh shit….

I quickly muted the video call and excused myself for a minute to grab a rag.

Luckily , the coffee did not stain any of my wife’s precious diaries. It just landed on the shelves.

Just to be sure, I lifted up a few volumes to give the shelves a wipe.

Just when I pulled up the volume for year 2016, I noticed something amiss.

Take any book, put it vertically upright and just stare down the part where the pages met the spine. You can clearly see if the pages are complete or missing.

There are some missing sections in that volume.

I pulled the diary volume out and I took a closer look.

A chunk has been torn out.

I looked at the dates with the missing entries and I felt a chill go down my spine.

It’s the week where we had our big fight.

Big enough for us to avoid talking and seeing each other for a week a few months before our wedding.

The missing entries piqued my curiosity.

I started pulling out the other diaries to check for missing entries but there were none.

Only the entries for 1^st week of October in June 2016 is missing.

The week of the fight.

I replaced it back on the shelf and went back to work.

I could not concentrate. It bothered me.

It bothered me to know that my wife wrote something that week.

Something she regretted.

Which pretty much meant she did something she regretted as well.

I could feel my heart beating faster and I forced myself to clam down.

I know Dawn.

She keeps a lot of things. Even the textbooks from her schooling days are still sitting neatly at her parents place in her shelves.

Dawn is a sentimental person. Her diary is her life and no matter how much she hated what she wrote, she will not just tear it up and junk it. Those missing entries must be somewhere.

I felt a tinge of excitement as I started my hunt like a pirate that was given a hint that a treasure is in the vicinity.

I went through everything that belonged to Dawn.

All the volumes of her diaries.

All her personal belongings.

It’s a game of patience.

From days, to weeks, I soldier on.

The missing pages must be around somewhere.

I had no luck.

That was when I started to read my wife’s diaries. The clues to where the missing pages are must be in there somewhere.

I started with the 2016 volume, working my way slowly through history.

And I struck jackpot when I reached May 2017.

The week before we got married.

One particular entry wrote;

“ I’m starting a new chapter of my life with James….. it took me many months to come to terms with it….. the mistake I made…. And I will be spending the rest of my life trying to make it up to him “

I felt my heartbeat go faster as I read the rest of the entry.

“ I removed the disgraceful week, I wanted to burn it but it’s a part of my life. Part of who I was, to deny it exists, is to deny my very own existence. “

“ I could not stand to read my mistake but it’s one I have to live with for the rest of my life. In the end, I picked up the pages from the bin, I denied it it’s existence in the physical world. It’s the least I could do. “

“ I Imprisoned my past in a digital vault, one that I keep locked in a chest I hope I never would open again “

A digital vault, a chest.

A locked chest.

We have no chest in the house but I know there’s one at my in law’s place. Dawn’s old room.

An old dusty chest the size of a cake box.

An Ornament she got from Europe during her travels. One that she kept high up on her display cupboard in her room. I don’t know if she is referring to that but it’s worth a shot.

I didn’t have a chance to go to my in law’s place until a month later.

We had dinner like what we always did in the dining area. I pretended I had to take a call when we were done and I excused myself into my wife’s old room.

My eyes immediately found the chest and I found the old copper key sitting under the chest.

With trembling fingers, I inserted the key and I opened it.

It’s there.

A lone 2GB Thumbdrive and a single polaroid photo.

An instant picture, taken of Dawn sleeping on the couch in 2016.

Written in ink at the bottom of the photo ;

“ You must be exhausted….:) “

I know that sofa. It’s the one I have at home. The matrimonial home Dawn and I spent so much time furnishing even before we were married.

I left the photo but I took the thumbdrive.

After we head back home, I asked Dawn to go on ahead to bed as I needed to send out some emails.

Dawn : ok…was hoping we can Netflix….

James : I just need 30 minutes or so….i’ll be right in….

I gave my wife a kiss on her forehead as she gave me a seductive smile while trying not to be obvious she was showing off the new La senza teddy she bought.

Dawn : I’m not going to wait up…. If you take too long…. Hur… hur….

James : I’ll try to hurry…. Haha

I went to the study and removed the drive I stole.

I popped it into my laptop and I could feel the machine waking up, reading files that were kept away for a long time.

A folder appeared together with a PDF file still dated and named in it’s default state after going through the scanner.

The folder contained photos and videos of Dawn.

I opened the PDF file to read her dairy entries, the ones she scanned.

Barely 3 minutes in, I felt a lump in my throat.

I was not reading a diary entry.

I was reading a confession.

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7800+ words

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