Malia came home by night, half sleeply, half drunk. Drinking and driving was her favorite thing to do. The love of her life was moving on as if nothing had happened. They were still married by law but that didn't mean anything to him. So, he was happy doing his own thing while the wife of his was at home, sleeping in bed alone after midnight. Parties was going on all night but he was drunk himself.
Malia head touched the pillow, she was knocked out when her head touched the soft silk covers. Malia arms spread out but she felt something that stung her arm but she ignored that wakening call. She fell asleep.
Women dances in front of him, nude, rolling their hips, bending forward to him. Cray smiles as he looks at them, drawing what he saw that was his desire but it turned out to be his wife face on each of them but he ignored that fact and kept enjoying. Even though his drink was poised, he smiled. The women grabbed him and started to drag him in the back of the club, in the managers room, where they all kept their money.
The manager was a woman but a crooked one. She emptied out his pockets, took his credit card and told the women to drug him, and tie him up where they could have him the way they saw fit. So, they did but by the time he woke up, he couldn't remember anything.
2:30AM Malia woke up, angry. She quickly turned on the lights, and started to look through the pictures of her phone and started to delete the photos of Cray and her one by one. Sobbing the tears that she held in for 20 years. She continued to delete the photos from down the years that she had with them, including the physical pictures that she had kept hidden. She burned each and every one of them until they were none left. Malia walked down to the basement slowly without the light on, walking on each step as if she memorized the stairs, she grabbed the gasoline, poured it on the basement floor. That basement created and had a lot of memories that she wanted to burn and forget. The flames lit up, malia was at the top of the staircase, looking down upon the flames. Malia grabbed the things that she owned from the marriage with her, the insurance papers, clothes, money and the rest of her assets with her while the fire slowly escalated into the house. Malia grabbed her car keys, and token the most beautiful Ferrari car that her husband had, and left the broken, old car there. The garage door opened, and she left. The house blew up as soon as she did.