Dana took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she clutched the garbage can to her chest. Why did she feel guilty? Why did it feel like she was doing something wrong when he was the one. . .
She opened her eyes and set the can down. It was because snooping always felt wrong, even for a good reason. Because there was no positive spin for going through some else's trash. It was his fault, making her feel like this. So insecure. He'd promised to support her, to be here for her and help get through all this. "We're in it together," he'd said, and she'd foolishly believed him.
The first few clues were easy to overlook. To dismiss. Really though, she already knew what was going on. It was time to admit it to herself. Then she could move forward, and stop searching the garbage. She felt tears welling up, and she took another deep breath to hold them back. She was just so tired and hungry, but she needed to retain her composure if she was going to confront him.
With one last deep slow breath, Dana stood up, pushed the garbage can back under his desk with her food and left his den. She was planning what to say to him that evening when he came home as she turned the corner into the kitchen and stopped short. He was right there in front of her. In the act.
A look of horror came over his face when he saw her. "I thought you were at your mother's today," he said as he attempted to casually wipe the frosting from his mustache and lay the cinnamon roll on the counter behind him. Hiding it too late. She'd been right. He was cheating on their diet.