I pinched the bridge of my nose and screwed my eyes shut, forcing air through my nose slowly.
“You lost the right to talk to me about anything when you fucked someone else. Do you understand me, Victor? I want a divorce, and I never want to see you again.”
He inhaled sharply on the other end, and I couldn’t help but listen for background noise. Where was he? He couldn’t be at work; I’d hear the tools and noise I always did. Maybe he was with her?
A cold dread swept over me at the thought. But would he be like this with me in front of her?
“Okay, I get it. You want a divorce…” His voice trailed off, and suddenly I couldn’t see through my tears. “I just want you to know that I don’t want this. I don’t want a divorce, and I don’t want anyone else. I was a fucking idiot?—”
“I’ll contact my attorney today.”
Then I hung up and ran to the bathroom to be sick.
How is this happening to me? To us?
I sobbed and spat into the toilet bowl, my insides swirling as I prayed to wake up from this nightmare, safely in Victor’s arms. He’d kiss me and tell me everything was alright, that he’d never do that to me. Then I’d fall back to sleep nestled against his chest, content.
But no. This nightmare was real. This was happening.
I leaned against the bathroom wall and stared at the overflowing laundry basket I’d left to rot and ruin. I had no energy for mundane tasks, none at all. It took everything I had just to get up in the morning.
Victor was forty-six. He was four years off fifty, for god’s sake, and he was having an affair. We didn’t even have sex that often—okay, maybe that was more me than him—and he’d voiced his concerns over it, but I’d just snapped at him and told him to understand how difficult it was for me too. It was no fun, the perimenopause.
But is that why he did it? The lack of sex? We’d gone without it for months and months on end…Christ, was it a year?
Had we really gone without sex in so long?
I just didn’t want it. That was a long time to expect him to go without sex…but regardless, he shouldn’t have cheated.
The bastard.
I bowed my head and sobbed until my ribs ached. I rolled away from the wall and curled up on the tiled floor, wishing I could reverse time and go back and talk to him, to try and explain how I felt instead of snapping at him and pushing him away.
But he didn’t have to go andfucksomeone else. That was on him, right?
My phone rang from the bedroom, lighting up the dark room. I crawled over to it, just in case it was someone I needed to speak to. Whom, I didn’t know, but I was glad I did, because when I saw my mom’s name on the screen, I bawled like a baby.
“Hey, sweetheart! I’m just calling to tell you I’ve ordered you some of that glassware you liked when you came over. You know the ones with…” She stopped mid-sentence, listening to my sobs. “Baby? What happened?”
“Vic…another woman…” I forced the words out, so I never had to say them again.
“I’m coming over. Stay right where you are,” Mom instructed before ending the call, her voice flat. She knew exactly how I was feeling. She’d been here, but with a twelve-year-old daughter in tow.
I forced myself to stand, my entire body trembling as I walked down the stairs like a robot, twisting the lock in the door so my mom could walk straight in.
Then I sank onto the sofa and sobbed, soaking the cushions I’d chosen for appearances rather than comfort, scratching my sore skin.
It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did.
5
VICTOR
Icouldn’t afford to stay in a motel room forever, so I found myself at Enzo’s two weeks later, sleeping on the couch. A baseball game on the TV played in the background, and I hit the mute button on the remote when Vanessa arrived unannounced.
I rose to greet her, but she crossed over to me quickly—too quickly, and I knew I was in for it.
Her first slap stung, but not as much as the second. Then Enzo stepped between us.
