My Golden Retriever Got Stuck With Fake Eyelashes

Returning home from my trip, the golden retriever who usually clung to me didn't come to the door to greet me.

I flipped on the lights. He was curled up tight in his bed, shaking. Two rows of cheap, thick false eyelashes were stuck to his eyelids. The glue had completely dried. His legs were trembling.

Declan was woken up by the noise. He leaned against the doorframe, stifling a yawn. "A coworker came over to hang out. The new girl thought it'd be cute to play dress up."

This wasn't playing dress up. It was a power play. She was marking her territory. She knew I would be coming home, and she knew exactly what I would see.

I immediately took the dog to the emergency vet clinic.

When I walked back into the house later, I heard Declan on the phone. His voice was laced with a low, amused chuckle.

"Relax. As long as you're happy, that's what matters. It's just a dog."

"Trust me, with me around, she wouldn't dare flip out."

He must have forgotten something crucial.

I was the one who dragged him out of the gutter and handed him his high level corporate position on a silver platter. I could easily strip it all away and turn him back into the pathetic, begging stray he used to be.

The bedroom door was cracked open. Declan's tone dripped with absolute affection.

"I have to admit, you're pretty handy."

He had the phone on speaker. The voice on the other end was sickeningly sweet.

"Declan, maybe next time I can dye his fur? Your wife is honestly so weird. She stays home all day doing nothing, she could at least put some effort into making the dog look cute."

She dragged out the last syllable, making it sound like a whine.

It was the new intern at his firm, Sophie.

I had met her once when I dropped off some documents for Declan. She was in her early twenties, fresh out of college, radiating that annoying, invincible energy of youth.

Back then, she had naturally reached out and taken the files and the thermos of hot soup right out of my hands. Her voice was painfully crisp.

"Mrs. Valerie, Declan is in the middle of a major meeting and won't be out for a while. You probably have chores to get back to at home anyway, so it's best if you just head back."

Her tone was polite. Her posture was professional. On the surface, you couldn't pick a flaw. But I wasn't blind to the underlying arrogance and the subtle hostility in the girl's eyes.

However, before I took my sabbatical, an intern at her bottom feeder level wouldn't even have the security clearance to breathe the same air as me, let alone speak to me. Stooping down to argue with her would only cheapen my own worth.

Besides, I had known Declan for ten years. We had been married for seven. Over the years, he kept himself in great shape and built a solid career. Plenty of women had thrown themselves at him. He always laughed them off with a polite "my wife would kill me" excuse.

But hearing him now, I just let out a dry, bitter laugh.

Everything clicked into place. This marriage was already rotting from the inside out.

Waffles seemed to sense the shift in my mood. He nudged my palm with his wet, warm nose, letting out a soft huff as if he was trying to comfort me.

I looked down at him. His eyes were still swollen and red. He looked absolutely miserable. I bent over and gently rubbed his ears, and he let out a quiet whimper.

The phone call in the bedroom ended. Declan shoved his phone into his sweatpants pocket and walked out, casually glancing at Waffles.

"The kid just likes to goof around. She didn't mean any harm. Besides, after she glued those on, she gave him a massive steak bone. If you think about it, Waffles came out on top."

My fingers unconsciously curled into tight fists.

A memory flashed through my mind. The night we found Waffles. Declan had drank himself into a stupor at a client dinner and collapsed in an alley with alcohol poisoning. It was Waffles, a stray pup back then, who ran out to the street and bit the pant leg of a passerby, dragging them over to save him.

When Declan woke up in the hospital, he swore that dog was his guardian angel. He promised to adopt him and treat him like royalty for the rest of his life.

So much for the rest of his life.

"Oh right," Declan added, lightly nudging Waffles out of the way with his foot. He kept his tone completely nonchalant. "The girl said she's coming over in a few days to dye his fur. I'll text you a list of her favorite foods. Make sure you cook up something nice for her."

"We're hosting a guest, after all. We can't be rude."

Beneath the polite, respectable excuses, his heart had already packed its bags and left.

I scoffed. I didn't waste another breath on him. I just turned on my heel and walked straight into the walk in closet.

I grabbed the dark grey, custom tailored Italian wool suit he had bought last month for eight thousand dollars.

Then I picked up my fabric scissors. Without blinking, I jammed the blades right into the lapel.

Snip.

One cut. Then another.

By the time Declan heard the noise and rushed in, the suit was shredded beyond recognition.

His breath hitched. He stared at the ruined fabric in pure disbelief. "Valerie, are you out of your damn mind? I spent a whole month's salary on that! I needed that for my meeting with Harrison on Friday!"

Harrison was my old college senior. The only reason Declan even got a foot in the door with that account was because I pulled strings at a charity dinner last year.

I tossed the mangled remains of the suit onto the hardwood floor. My voice was deadpan.

"It's just a suit. I thought it'd be cute to play dress up."

I threw his exact excuse right back in his face.

Declan froze. When the reality set in, his chest heaved heavily. He ground his teeth together.

"Over a dog. You're throwing a massive tantrum and destroying my things... over a damn dog!"

"You are completely unreasonable!"

I raised an eyebrow, entirely unfazed.

Women throw tantrums when they want to be coaxed. I wasn't throwing a tantrum. I just wanted to make him bleed the exact same way I was bleeding.

Declan dropped to his knees. His hands physically shook as he gathered the shredded pieces of his precious suit.

"Look at yourself, Valerie! I bust my ass to provide for you, and this is what I get? A hysterical housewife?!"

I actually laughed out loud.

"Declan, you really know how to flatter yourself."

"You were the one who begged me to take a break. You said our parents were tired of waiting, and you wanted me to stay home and prep for a baby."

"A year ago, my corporate rank was five levels higher than yours."

When he first joined the firm, the man didn't even know how to format a basic quarterly report. I had to hold his hand and teach him everything. I dragged him out of the bottom tier sales pit and hoisted him up to his current executive chair.

I looked down at him. My voice was as icy and steady as it always was when I sat across from multinational corporate sharks at the negotiation table.

"Declan. We are getting a divorce."

He snapped his head up, the words flying out of his mouth instantly.

"No! I am not signing anything!"

He scrambled up and tried to grab my wrist.

"Just because I let her put fake eyelashes on the dog?"

"I swear to God there is nothing going on between us! We haven't even held hands!"

When I didn't react, his voice dropped an octave, slipping into that pathetic, pleading tone.

"Fine. I'll tell her she can't come over to dye his fur. Okay?"

I yanked my hand back.

I stared at the man I had been with since our college days. His eyes were red, the corners slightly wet.

Dragging this out would only rot my own soul. I forcefully suffocated the tiny flicker of sympathy rising in my chest and spoke with absolute absolute absolute coldness.

"The second you let her torture my dog, you lost your seat at the table. You're out."

I didn't wait for his response. I walked out, went into the guest bedroom, and locked the door behind me.

I didn't sleep a wink.

Dividing the bank accounts would be easy enough. But the corporate resources, the VIP contacts, the high level clients I had spoon fed him over the years. I was going to rip every single one of them back.

I wasn't about to plant a beautiful tree just to let some other bitch sit in its shade.

I stayed up working on my laptop until five in the morning. I had barely closed my eyes for an hour when loud, frantic knocking rattled the bedroom door.

It was followed by a sickeningly familiar, overly cheerful voice.

"Valerie! It's past seven! Are you seriously still sleeping?"

I frowned, rubbing my temples, and yanked the door open.

Sophie was standing there in a full face of flawless makeup. She let out a dramatic gasp. "Wow! I'm so jealous you get to sleep in until noon. Some of us actually have to hustle to make a living!"

I ignored her, walking straight into the living room and taking a seat on the couch. I drummed my fingers against the armrest.

"What exactly are you doing here?"

My sharp glare hit her like a physical weight. Her eyelashes fluttered, and her fake smile faltered for a fraction of a second.

But she recovered quickly, softening her voice into a pitiful whine.

"Valerie, Declan told me you were super upset about the dog's eyelashes. I was so worried you guys were going to fight, so I came all the way over here bright and early just to apologize!"

Sophie practically skipped into my kitchen, moving around with the ease of someone who owned the place.

"Let me pour you a drink to make up for it!"

A minute later, she walked out holding a glass of juice. Her voice was practically bouncing off the walls.

"The last time I was over, I casually mentioned that I like orange juice way better than watermelon juice. I can't believe Declan actually went out and stocked the fridge for me. He is literally the sweetest boss ever!"

I caught the unmistakable, triumphant gleam in her eyes.

I kept my face perfectly blank, but something twisted violently in my chest.

The sharp, zesty scent of oranges filled the air. My nose immediately started to itch, and I let out a series of harsh sneezes.

"I don't want it. You can leave now."

She acted like she was suddenly deaf. She took a few steps closer, practically shoving the glass of orange juice into my face.

"Oh come on, just take a sip! If you don't drink it, it means you hate me."

As she pushed the glass at me, the liquid sloshed over the rim. A few sticky drops splashed directly onto my lips and into my mouth.

Almost instantly, angry red hives began breaking out across my arms.

Right at that second, Declan pushed open the front door. His eyes immediately darted to the bright red patches spreading over my skin.

Sophie gasped, taking a dramatic step back and covering her mouth. She laced her voice with perfectly calculated panic.

"Oh my god... is she contagious?"

Declan's face went completely pale.

He practically sprinted to the media console, yanking open the drawer to grab my emergency antihistamines.

I snatched the pills from him and swallowed them dry.

Seeing the medication go down, Declan's rigid shoulders finally slumped. He turned around, glaring at Sophie and the glass of orange juice in her hand. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"She is highly allergic to citrus. I told you that last time. Why would you give her orange juice?"

Sophie's eyes instantly filled with tears. She lowered her head, looking utterly heartbroken.

"I forgot... I was just so caught up in how happy I was that you actually remembered my favorite drink..."

Her voice was as soft as cotton candy.

Declan caught the pure adoration and puppy dog worship swimming in her teary eyes. The harsh lines on his face completely melted. He let out a soft sigh and gave her a gentle smile.

"Alright, don't cry. I know it was an accident."

Sophie immediately beamed through her tears.

"Declan, I'm honestly just so touched. You went ten years without a single orange in this house just for her... but with one word from me, you broke all your rules."

She didn't finish her sentence. She didn't need to.

I calmly reached out, took the glass of orange juice from her hands, flicked my wrist, and dumped the entire thing directly over her perfectly styled head.

Sophie let out a bloodcurdling shriek.

Declan roared, "Valerie!"

He scrambled to grab a handful of tissues from the coffee table, desperately dabbing at Sophie's face and hair.

He shot me a look of pure disgust. "What the hell is wrong with you? Where is your basic human decency?"

Sophie peered up at me through her sticky bangs. The look in her eyes spoke volumes.

So what if you poured juice on me? He's still choosing me.

I met her arrogant stare and smiled.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number.

"Director Mercer."

The voice on the other end answered instantly, practically tripping over itself with respect. "Valerie! Hey, what can I do for you?"

Declan froze dead in his tracks.

Sophie whispered, her voice trembling with sudden uncertainty, "Is that... the VP of the Eastern Division? How does she have his private number?"

I kept my tone perfectly flat. "There's a new intern in your department. Sophie. She glued fake eyelashes to my dog and broke into my house to force feed me something I'm deathly allergic to."

Mercer wasn't an idiot. He caught on in a heartbeat.

"Say no more. Consider it handled. I'm so sorry for the trouble."

I hung up the phone and looked at Sophie, a mockingly polite smile resting on my face.

She looked terrified, but her mouth was still running.

"You're just a washed up housewife! You don't know the VP. Stop bluffing!"

Five seconds later.

Sophie's phone rang. She swiped to answer it, and every ounce of color violently drained from her face.

"...HR is terminating my contract effective immediately?"

Sophie's voice shook violently as she looked up at Declan, silently begging him to fix it.

Declan swallowed hard, pulled out his phone, and dialed his boss.

"Director Mercer, it's Declan. Listen, about Sophie..."

Mercer cut him off. His voice was so loud I could hear it from the couch.

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Declan?"

Mercer was absolutely furious.

"You have the balls to beg for someone else's job? I wouldn't dare cross Vice President Valerie in a million years! If your mess splashes onto me, I'll fire your ass right along with her!"

The living room fell dead silent.

I casually crossed my legs and gave Sophie a side eye.

"See? He can't save you."

Sophie couldn't formulate a single word. She just glared at me with pure, unadulterated hatred.

I tilted my chin toward the front door.

"Are you going to leave, or do I need to call security to drag you out?"

She bit her lip so hard it almost bled, tears streaming down her ruined makeup. She grabbed her purse and bolted out the door.

The door slammed shut.

I stood up and headed back to the guest room. As I walked past Declan, he grabbed my arm.

"Did you really have to destroy a young girl's career like that? Does making her suffer make you feel good?"

I violently ripped my arm out of his grip.

When I looked at him now, I just felt bone deep exhaustion.

"The divorce papers have been emailed to you. Read the terms. Sign them. Today."

The next day, I moved out and relocated to a luxury corporate apartment my company had kept on retainer for me.

Declan refused to sign the papers.

He bombarded my phone with apology texts every single hour. He sent expensive flowers and designer gifts to my office, acting exactly like he did when we first started dating.

I replied with one single sentence: "Sign the papers within seven days, or I'm taking this to litigation."

A few days later, I was out running errands when a torrential downpour hit, soaking me to the bone.

Luckily, a condo I had purchased entirely in my own name before we got married was just a few blocks away.

I headed upstairs to grab a quick shower and a change of clothes.

When I stood in front of the door and punched in my keypad code, the lock beeped red. Error.

Rainwater was literally dripping off my jeans. It was early autumn, and the sharp chill made me sneeze violently.

Then, the door unlocked from the inside.

Sophie stood in the doorway. She was barefoot, wearing my custom silk pajamas.

Her eyes slowly dragged from my soaked hair down to the puddle forming at my feet.

She let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"Oh, Valerie. Since you got me fired, I obviously couldn't pay my rent. Declan said this place was just sitting empty, so he let me crash here. You don't mind, do you?"

I pressed my lips into a thin line, shoved my shoulder past her, and marched inside.

Sophie immediately started screaming from behind me.

"Hey! Watch it! I just mopped that floor!"

I walked into the master bedroom. The closet had been entirely cleared out. It was completely stuffed with Sophie's cheap mall clothes.

I turned around.

She was leaning against the doorframe, a smug little smirk playing on her lips.

"Oh, right. I shoved all your old stuff into the guest room. You weren't wearing it anyway, and it seemed like a waste to let you hog the master."

I checked the guest room. My expensive tailored suits and designer dresses were piled onto the mattress and dumped on the floor like garbage. Some of them had bright red lipstick smeared across the fabric.

I didn't say a single word. I quietly found some clean clothes, took a hot shower, blew dry my hair, and drank a glass of hot water to chase away the freezing chill.

Only when I felt completely like myself again did I stride confidently out into the living room.

Sophie was sitting on the couch, painting her fingernails.

My pristine, cream colored Italian leather sofa was now stained with streaks of neon nail polish.

She stood up, casually blowing on her wet nails.

"Since you tracked mud all over the place, be a doll and mop it up on your way out. It's just basic manners."

I stopped right in front of her. I raised my hand high into the air and slapped her directly across the face with everything I had.

Crack.

Sophie's head snapped to the side. The bottle of nail polish shattered against the hardwood floor.

At that exact moment, the heavy thud of grocery bags hitting the floor echoed from the entryway.