Page 31

She’s already curled beneath the duvet, face half-buried in her pillow, hoodie still on, the covers pulled up to her chin. I study her for a moment, and my heart aches with a love so fierce it almost hurts.

I back out, pulling the door closed behind me gently, and turn toward my bedroom at the far end of the hall, the promise of sleep tugging at me with every heavy step.

I open the door quietly, without thinking. No reason to hesitate. No reason to brace. But the second the door swings open, the air shifts.

My brain doesn’t register it right away. The room smells… unfamiliar. Like perfume that doesn’t belong to me. Like sweat and skin, and something lived-in, recent. The bedside lamp is on, but it’s dim. Turned low, like a secret.

And then I hear it.

A low, rhythmic creak of the mattress.

I freeze on the spot.

The noise stops me in my tracks before my eyes even find the source. But when they do. My world cracks wide open. There’s a woman in my bed.

Suddenly, I’m nowhere and everywhere all at once, and the realisation hits like a blow, knocking the air clean out of my lungs.

His body moves slowly and almost deliberately, his hands braced against the mattress as hers skim over his back. His mouth is at her shoulder, his breath ghosting over her skin. Their bodies lay tangled in the sheets, as if they had been there for a while.

I watch it happen. As though it’s not happening to me. Like I’m floating above it, separate, watching someone else’s life implode in slow motion.

David moves again. His hand slides up her side, her back arches, and she lets out a soft, pleased sigh. And that sound? It shatters me.

Something cold and sharp lodges itself between my ribs. My breath stops. My stomach churns. And all I can do is stand there while everything inside me detonates.

The sheets shift again, and then David turns his head. His eyes meet mine. And it hits him. The recognition. The horror.

He jerks back like he’s been electrocuted, stumbling off her like he’s only just remembered who he is. The woman gasps, startled, scrambling to cover herself with the twisted sheets.

I look at her.

Straight into her eyes.

She’s blonde. Long hair, tanned limbs, red lipstick smudged across a mouth that still looks swollen from kissing. Her cheeks are flushed, skin golden and glowing in the low light.

She stares back at me, wide-eyed and frozen, clutching the sheets to her chest like that’ll make a difference now.

But it doesn’t matter what she looks like.

Because he is the one who promised me forever.

David stares at me like he’s still trying to make sense of what he’s seeing, like he’s searching for the version of me that isn’t shattered on the inside.

“Ellie…” he breathes, his voice raw, wrecked. “Shit?—”

But it’s too late. Too fucking late. My body floods with something wild, primal, and suffocating. My chest tightens so violently that I can’t breathe. I don’t even remember backing away. All I know is that I’m moving.

His voice follows me, panicked. “Ellie—fuck. Just wait…”

The door shuts behind me, and I’m already moving—down the stairs, through the hallway, past the kitchen, fingers fumbling with the lock on the back door.

I don’t stop. Don’t breathe.

I just need out.

The door creaks open and I storm onto the patio, the night air slamming into my chest like a wake-up call. Cold. Real. Sharp around the edges.

I brace my hands on the garden table, knuckles white against the wood, trying to pull myself back into my body. Trying not to scream.

Then I hear it. The back door creaks open behind me.

“Ellie,” David calls, voice low but sharp at the edges—like he’s trying to keep the neighbours from hearing.

I don’t turn. Not yet. The gravel crunches under his bare feet as he steps onto the patio, sweatpants dragged on, chest bare, hair wild and damp with sweat. His mouth opens around words he hasn’t formed yet, hands lifted like I’m some skittish thing he might spook.

“Ellie,” he says again, closer now. “Just listen?—”

That does it. I spin around, heat rising fast up my throat, rage surging to the surface like a bruise pressed too hard.

“ Listen? ” My voice cracks on the word. “To what, David? More lies? More carefully rehearsed excuses?”

He flinches. Just barely. But I see it.

“I wasn’t thinking,” he says, hands still raised in some weak, helpless gesture.

“Oh, that much is fucking clear,” I snap. My whole body is shaking. My heart is crashing against my ribs like it wants to break free.

“I made a mistake. I didn’t mean for this to happen—we were working, I had too much to drink.” he breathes, wrecked. “I love you so much, Ellie. I’m so sorry baby.”

“No! You don’t get to say that.” My voice breaks on the last word, barely a whisper now. “Not anymore. You fucked someone in my bed, David. Our bed. For fuck sake! ” My voice is loud now, sharp.

“I swear to you, I’ll do anything to fix this,” he says, desperation clawing at every word. “We can get through this, Ellie. I know we can. Just stay. Please . Don’t walk out on what we have. Not like this.”

And then he says it. The words that change everything.

“You have nowhere else to go.”

I blink, and my chest goes still. David’s face pales. He knows the second the words leave his mouth that he’s crossed a line.

I look at him. Really look at him. And I see the fear of losing control in his eyes. The way he tries to turn my lack of options into his leverage.

I shake my head slowly, something dark and hollow curling in my stomach. “Wow,” I whisper. “You really think that, don’t you?”

He stammers. “Ellie, that’s not, I didn't mean…” But he did. And we both know it.

David’s still reaching for me. His voice softens, taking on that tone again. The one he always uses when he’s trying to reel me back in. The one he knows works.

Used to work.

“Ellie, come on,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Don’t do this. You’re upset. You’re hurt. I get it, I do. But we can fix this. We can come back from this. You just, you need to stay. Just for tonight.”

He steps closer, his hands held out like something fragile. “Please,” he murmurs, “if not for me. Then for Mia.”

My breath catches. And that’s it. That’s the card he’s played.

Mia.

He says her name like it’s a lifeline. Like she’s his golden ticket. Like I wouldn’t burn down the world for that girl.

I close my eyes, just for a second. Long enough for the grief to rise in my throat, thick and hot and impossible to swallow.

My jaw tightens. I look up at him again. “Fuck you, David. You don’t get to use her against me.”

David flinches, guilt washing over his face. “I’m not,” he says, but it’s a lie. A weak one.

“Yes,” I whisper, “you are.”

The silence between us is loud now. So loud, it rings in my ears.

I should leave. I should walk out that door tonight and never look back. But I can’t. Not yet. Not like this.

Because it’s not just about me.

Mia is upstairs, asleep in the world I’ve tried so hard to make feel safe.

A life I’ve built brick by careful brick—packed lunches, clean uniforms, goodnight kisses—even when everything inside me was falling apart.

I’ve fought to give her stability, to shield her from the mess, from doubt, from the kind of heartbreak that lingers.

And I won’t be the reason it all crumbles in the middle of the night.

I won’t let him be the one to explain what she wakes up to.

So, I do the only thing I can. I turn. I don’t wait for him to follow. Just shove the back door open, and step into the kitchen. My footsteps echo in the hush. Everything feels still. Like the house is holding its breath.

I move through the kitchen, past the counter where I used to leave notes, where dinner used to wait under foil. Through the hall where his shoes are still kicked to the side, like nothing’s changed. My hand trails the bannister as I climb the stairs, each step heavier than the last.

I pass our bedroom without pausing. His bedroom now.

The guest room is at the far end. Dark. Still. Untouched. And I’m suddenly thankful for the extra space.

I slip inside and shut the door behind me. No photos on the walls. No echoes of laughter or arguments or love gone stale. Just a bed, a dresser, and a quiet that expects nothing from me.

The door clicks shut as my back hits it, and I slide down, legs folding in until I’m curled on the carpet.

I fist my hands into the fibres like they might hold me together.

Then my breath comes in short, shallow bursts.

Sharp at first, then unraveling into full-body sobs that tear their way out of me like they’ve been waiting too long.

I cry until my throat burns. Until my hands go numb. Until I can’t tell where the grief ends and the rage begins.

Because it’s not just about what he did. It’s every lie I told myself just to stay. Every time I swallowed doubt. Every time I smiled through the ache, or convinced myself that love was supposed to hurt a little if it was real.

I bury my face in my hands and sob harder, the sound muffled but relentless. Because I wanted so badly to be loved without conditions. And now I’m not sure I even know what that looks like.

My mind spirals, spinning through memories so fast it feels like whiplash.

Late nights in the kitchen, David pressing kisses to the back of my neck while I cooked.

Sunday mornings tangled in sheets, the smell of coffee between us, him whispering stupid jokes that made me snort into the pillow.

The nights he’d pull me into his lap when he thought I was worrying too much, his arms a protective cage around me.

I think of every moment we laughed, every look he gave me that felt so real. Every time I defended him and convinced myself the distance between us was temporary. That the loneliness in my own bed was normal. That loving someone meant enduring the bad seasons.

I press my palms against my eyelids until the worst of the shaking passes.

Until the room steadies around me.