Page 6 of My So-Called Perfect Life

I make it out the back exit before anyone comes looking for me.Thank you, Daddy.

* * *

Two hoursof the same questions buzzing in my mind, eating my brain alive.

I’ve been walking and walking waiting for answers or at least something to help me figure out how my wedding just wound up ending with Mandy getting my man.

Where did it all go wrong?I can’t get that question out of my mind.

Everything was so, so good. Scott and I barely argued. We shared our thoughts and feelings, and I thought we handled our relationship like mature adults who loved each other. It was all a lie.

Fishing my phone from my bag, I see about twenty missed calls and a hundred text messages. My battery only has ten percent left, so calling people back and answering messages will have to wait until I get home. Getting an Uber and having enough battery left for emergencies is more important. Plus, I don’t want to talk to anyone anyway.

As I type in the address of my apartment, I’ve never been happier that I kept my place until the end of the month. Although I now have nine days to find a new place to live since my lease is up, and I was planning on moving in with Scott after our honeymoon.

A honeymoon I now have to try and get my money back for.

I have to call the airlines.

And the hotel.

And I have to cancel the movers.

Focus, Danielle. You need to get home before you can do all that.

The app tells me my driver will be here in four minutes.

I stand idly on the corner, thinking about how my life just went completely off the rails, runaway train–style, despite my best efforts to keep my mind on anything else. Scott’s name appeared in the many notifications on my phone, but he is the last person I want to talk to right now.

My phone dings, alerting me that my driver has arrived, and I look up to see the blue SUV at the curb.

The city whizzes by as the images of Mandy and Scott fill my head. How long has this been going on? Did she come on to him? Did he pursue her? Does it even matter?

The bodega on the corner of my block comes into view, and I dig in my bag for my keys. I just want to get inside and lie down on my bare mattress on the floor. This was not how I was supposed to be spending my wedding night. But then again, there was also supposed to be a wedding.

God, how could this have happened?

Never in my worst nightmares of wedding mishaps did I think of this. A fire in the ballroom? Yes. Stepping on the train of my dress and tripping and falling right down the aisle? Check. Scott cheating on me right before it was all about to start? Never.

It feels like I’m in a bad dream, waiting to wake up.

I feel numb as I walk the hall to my apartment.

There’s this thick cloud of emotions surrounding me, brewing like a thunderstorm on a hot summer day, waiting for the spark that will set it all in motion.

I want to cry. I want to rage. I want to curl in a ball and ignore the world. I want to rip my heart out, so I can’t feel this pain for another moment. It’s crushing and scary, and it hurts like hell.

As I enter my apartment, I wish everything in here wasn’t packed. I really want a drink. But the place is merely furniture and boxes. Everything was ready for the move.

The banging at my door scares the shit out of me. It’s hard, loud, and booming in the barrenness of my apartment.

My stomach drops to the floor as I think it might be Scott on the other side of it. I’m not ready.Do I want to punch him? Or do I want to beg him to tell me why? Do I even want to know why?All I do know is that I don’t want to see him.

“We’ll just use my key if you don’t open the door,” my sister shouts, no doubt angering Mrs. Martinson next door.

Mrs. Martinson complains whenever there is noise in the hallway. But the relief that courses through me, knowing it isn’t Scott, makes it worth her nagging.

I’m not ready for Amelia and Mercy’s bombardment either. So far, I’ve done a good job of keeping everything inside, and seeing them will involve letting it all out. I want to get it out. I want to release this pain, but then I know there’s no waking up. The last part of my heart holding out hope that this is all a bad dream will be snuffed out. I’ll have to admit that this is real, and Scott and I are done. But I guess the quicker I get it out, the quicker I can begin healing.