AN: Hey guys this is my first fanfiction posted. Haha I'm actually kind of nervous! Ok well I think
I am going to make this a good sized story. I am sorry is chapters and stuff aren't long enough(or
short enough). Oh, and I am considering making Eric gay, so if you have a problem with that then
please, just don't read. I don't want any flames complaining about something I warned you about
in advance! Please review, I don't mind constructive criticsm.
Diclaimer: The only thing that's mine is the plot....*sigh*
Nineteen year old Topanga Lawrence Matthews stared out the window of her small
apartment at the rain that was flooding New York City. The apartment was eerily quiet, without
her husband, Cory's, normal backround noise. He always had either the tv or the radio on, saying
he couldn't study without some noise to distract him, something about getting too bored to
concentrate. Topanga usually had to go into their bedroom and lock the door to escape the
distracting sounds. But now the apartment was quiet, the only sound was the rain hitting the
windows. Cory had packed up some clothes and left last night, saying he would come back when
they had both cooled off.
He had taken the beat up Pontiac, the cheapest car they could find, and driven home to
Philadelphia. The fight had been horrible, but the realization that she was wrong was so much
worse. How could she think Cory would ever cheat on her? Didn't she say in her vows that he
had been the strong one, the one who had been sure their love could make it through anything?
The question was, would it make it through this?
*Flashback*
"How could you, you...you...you sick pig!" Topanga screamed as her husband closed the
door behind him and began to take of his coat.
"How could I what?" Cory said back in a strained tone, bunching his coat in his hands.
"How could you sleep with some...some cheap TRAMP?!?" Topanga shrieked. The vase
that had been sitting on the coffee table narrowly missed Cory's head before shattering upon
impact with the wall. "I mean, GOD, everyone knows that Amanda is such a slut! I bet she
doesn't even use any form of protection! That would explain the snotfaced little brats always
crying inside her apartment!"
"I didn't have sex with Amanda Chippin!" Cory said, trying to keep his composure but
failing miserably. He suddenly yelled, "How could you, you of all people, think that I would do
something like that?"
"Well, it could have been the fact that she has a different guy there every night, or the fact
that Angela saw you go into her apartment on her way up here earlier!" Topanga's face was
contorted with rage and she had angry tears streaming down her cheeks.
"I went in there to drop off her package! It was in our mailbox!" Cory said, as if it was the
most obvious thing in the world.
"Drop off a package? Drop off a package? I'm sure you just went in there to 'drop off a
package'! How stupid do you think I am?" Topanga's voice was barely more then an enraged
whisper.
"Right now, pretty damn stupid!" Cory walked into the bedroom and slammed the door.
For the next few minutes all that could be heard was the rain outside and the sounds of drawers
opening and closing. Cory came out of the room holding a suitcase and pulling on his coat. As he
walked out the door he simply said, "I'm going home. I don't know when I'll be back."
Topanga stood there staring at the door for almost an hour.
*End Flashback*
Of course Cory wouldn't cheat on her. Cory was reliable and treated people with respect,
he would always do the right thing, even if it took up his precious time. And the story did make
sense, their mailman had just gone through a tough divorce and had been drinking a lot. Mr.
Emerick could have easily mixed up the mailboxes. And it was just like Cory to take Amanda her
mail, even if she was a acknowledged slut. She had been pretty damn stupid, Cory was right. And
now her marriage was in jeopardy. She should call him, but that would be admitting she had been
wrong, and Topanga had never been wrong before. 'Do you want to be right or do you want to
be married?' She walked away from the window, sat down on the couch, and picked up the
phone.
I am going to make this a good sized story. I am sorry is chapters and stuff aren't long enough(or
short enough). Oh, and I am considering making Eric gay, so if you have a problem with that then
please, just don't read. I don't want any flames complaining about something I warned you about
in advance! Please review, I don't mind constructive criticsm.
Diclaimer: The only thing that's mine is the plot....*sigh*
Nineteen year old Topanga Lawrence Matthews stared out the window of her small
apartment at the rain that was flooding New York City. The apartment was eerily quiet, without
her husband, Cory's, normal backround noise. He always had either the tv or the radio on, saying
he couldn't study without some noise to distract him, something about getting too bored to
concentrate. Topanga usually had to go into their bedroom and lock the door to escape the
distracting sounds. But now the apartment was quiet, the only sound was the rain hitting the
windows. Cory had packed up some clothes and left last night, saying he would come back when
they had both cooled off.
He had taken the beat up Pontiac, the cheapest car they could find, and driven home to
Philadelphia. The fight had been horrible, but the realization that she was wrong was so much
worse. How could she think Cory would ever cheat on her? Didn't she say in her vows that he
had been the strong one, the one who had been sure their love could make it through anything?
The question was, would it make it through this?
*Flashback*
"How could you, you...you...you sick pig!" Topanga screamed as her husband closed the
door behind him and began to take of his coat.
"How could I what?" Cory said back in a strained tone, bunching his coat in his hands.
"How could you sleep with some...some cheap TRAMP?!?" Topanga shrieked. The vase
that had been sitting on the coffee table narrowly missed Cory's head before shattering upon
impact with the wall. "I mean, GOD, everyone knows that Amanda is such a slut! I bet she
doesn't even use any form of protection! That would explain the snotfaced little brats always
crying inside her apartment!"
"I didn't have sex with Amanda Chippin!" Cory said, trying to keep his composure but
failing miserably. He suddenly yelled, "How could you, you of all people, think that I would do
something like that?"
"Well, it could have been the fact that she has a different guy there every night, or the fact
that Angela saw you go into her apartment on her way up here earlier!" Topanga's face was
contorted with rage and she had angry tears streaming down her cheeks.
"I went in there to drop off her package! It was in our mailbox!" Cory said, as if it was the
most obvious thing in the world.
"Drop off a package? Drop off a package? I'm sure you just went in there to 'drop off a
package'! How stupid do you think I am?" Topanga's voice was barely more then an enraged
whisper.
"Right now, pretty damn stupid!" Cory walked into the bedroom and slammed the door.
For the next few minutes all that could be heard was the rain outside and the sounds of drawers
opening and closing. Cory came out of the room holding a suitcase and pulling on his coat. As he
walked out the door he simply said, "I'm going home. I don't know when I'll be back."
Topanga stood there staring at the door for almost an hour.
*End Flashback*
Of course Cory wouldn't cheat on her. Cory was reliable and treated people with respect,
he would always do the right thing, even if it took up his precious time. And the story did make
sense, their mailman had just gone through a tough divorce and had been drinking a lot. Mr.
Emerick could have easily mixed up the mailboxes. And it was just like Cory to take Amanda her
mail, even if she was a acknowledged slut. She had been pretty damn stupid, Cory was right. And
now her marriage was in jeopardy. She should call him, but that would be admitting she had been
wrong, and Topanga had never been wrong before. 'Do you want to be right or do you want to
be married?' She walked away from the window, sat down on the couch, and picked up the
phone.