Page 2 of Keeping Skylar (Fractured Hearts #1)

As I lie on my back staring at the ceiling, I can feel my mind and heartbeat racing.

I’m physically and emotionally spent, but I force myself to breathe.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

I focus on Kaden’s gentle breathing, waiting—hoping—for exhaustion to overtake me. I wait for my mind to quiet, for sleep to finally come and offer a temporary escape. But no matter how long I wait, how desperately I try ... sleep never arrives.

It’s 7 am in the morning, and Kaden has just left for work. The moment I hear the sound of his car reversing out of the driveway, I sit up, throw the covers off me, and head straight into the ensuite for a long, hot shower, hoping to wash away the remnants of last night.

After showering, I slowly get ready for the day ahead. Too angry and hurt to care about my appearance, I slip on a pair of grey trackpants; an old, loose, black t-shirt; and shove my damp hair into a messy bun.

I grimace at the sight of my reflection in the full-length mirror, studying the dark circles beneath my puffy red eyes, and the expression across my face that’s etched with pain, sadness and exhaustion.

I stare at the haunting image before me, of a once vibrant and carefree woman, now empty and drained of all energy and hope.

It’s only day one, and I’m moments away from unravelling completely.

Forcing myself to snap out of the mental haze I’ve been stuck in, I walk over to the bedside table and pick up my phone. A notification on the screen alerts me to a recent text from Kaden.

Kaden: Morning babe. I’m going to the gym straight after work and maybe grab something to eat afterwards with Jason. Have fun at the exhibition tonight and wish Kirstin good luck for me. Love you x.

It takes everything inside of me not to want to slam my phone against the wall.

Liar! That fucking cheating liar!

How can I ever believe a word he says anymore? Had everything been a lie? Do I really know the man I married, or has he always been a complete stranger?

Not bothering to reply, I throw my phone onto the mattress with so much force it bounces onto the carpet with a thud as my anger propels me forward with quick heavy steps, out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

Making it to the fridge, I open the door and retrieve a bottle of water. I’m dehydrated and distraught, and possibly losing my mind too. I need to get some fucking sleep.

I’m just about to take a generous sip when a loud knock on the front door startles me, making me almost drop the bottle of water. Slamming the bottle on the counter in annoyance, I stomp towards the front door to berate whoever the hell is visiting me at this ungodly hour.

Flinging the door open, I’m instantly greeted by my two best friends, standing on the porch, looking fresh as daisies.

My little sister, Mila, who is eight years my junior, at twenty-three, has always looked stunning no matter what time of the day. Much to our mother’s displeasure, we both took after our Venezuelan-born father with our dark brown hair, honey-coloured eyes, and smooth olive complexion.

Mila’s always been the more confident and wiser out of us two. Her intelligence, beauty, and athleticism combined, make her an unstoppable force—a real triple threat.

Then there’s Lucia, my colleague turned best friend. We instantly hit it off and quickly became friends outside of work. She’s fiery, charming, and outgoing. Being two years younger than me, at twenty-nine, she works hard but likes to play harder.

Wherever she goes, men turn their heads, and she knows it too. Lucia loves the attention. But it’s her sharp tongue and unfiltered remarks, that adds to her appeal. It’s something I’ve always envied and admired about her—the ability to voice her opinions without apology.

The two women stare at me with matching frowns, as their gazes slowly take in my outfit from head to toe.

“Umm ... What the hell are you wearing?” asks Mila.

I glance down at my clothes, and shrug. “My home clothes, why?” I reply, feeling confused by the irritation in her voice.

“Sky, what the hell! Why aren’t you ready? We tried calling you twice on our way here, but you never answered your phone. You look like shit by the way,” Lucia snaps as she continues to assess my current state, her eyes narrowing. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“What?” I ask innocently, as I try to break through the brain fog so I can remember what it was that I was meant to be doing this morning.

Mila frowns, looking equal parts worried and annoyed. “Skylar, we organised to have breakfast this morning at that new café next to Mum’s place. We’ve only been waiting two weeks to try it out. Why didn’t you answer your phone? And why does it look like you haven’t slept in a year?” Mila presses.

My husband’s affair has been the only thing on my mind, and add the lack of sleep into the mix, I’m about as useful as a fork in a bowl of soup.

My attempt at an apologetic smile is met with more frowns.

“Look, I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to cancel today’s breakfast. My phone was in my room while I was in the kitchen grabbing something to drink.

I wasn’t feeling well last night, and didn’t get any sleep.

So, I think it’s best that I stay home and try and catch up on some rest. I’ve also got Kirstin’s exhibition tonight.

I’m helping her set up and need all the energy I can muster for that. ”

Mila and Lucia glance at each other for a brief moment before settling their eyes on me.

Lucia feigns a sigh of defeat. “Okay, fine. Mila and I will just go somewhere else for today because going there without you feels wrong. But you better make it next time, or I’ll be dragging you by the hair, whether you’re ready or not. And you’re paying.”

I nod and let out a soft chuckle. “Deal. I’ll call you to rearrange a time. I really am sorry, guys. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Promises, promises. You better, bitch, or you’ll be paying for lunch and dinner. Maybe a few margaritas too,” Lucia quips.

“Get some rest, Skylar. We’ll talk soon,” Mila says before they both take off in the direction of her car.

Waiting until they’re both settled in the car, I give them one final wave before closing the door.

Turning around, my eyes slowly scan the open living space that holds so many memories of Kaden and I together.

From the excitement of moving in after we just purchased the house, to the gradual process of turning it into a home.

Now, everything inside has been tainted, ruined, destroyed. And it’s all their fault!

Their torrid affair has been nothing but reckless, as if they think their actions have no consequences.

It shows their blatant disrespect and disregard for me and our marriage, as if my heart and my feelings are insignificant to their own selfish desires.

I hate them for doing this to me. For making me look like a fool. I will never forgive them for this.

The nauseating feeling in my stomach returns, making me lose my appetite altogether. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t think about anything else.

Growing more and more irritable by the minute, I decide to spend the rest of the morning on the couch watching TV. And if I’m lucky, maybe catch up on some sleep before I meet up with Kirstin in a few hours.

I refuse to do any of my usual routine chores.

Fuck the cleaning.

Fuck the cooking.

Fuck running errands.

Most of all, fuck them both.