Page 28 of Whispered Promises

“Max? Are you coming?” she calls, tugging me from my spiralling thoughts.

Jogging, I catch up and follow her out the door to our flat. But it feels like I’m adrift, there but not quite there.

Instead, I’m nosediving into a past I’ve been trying to forget.

Five years ago

I unlock my car and jump in, laying the flowers and gift bag on the passenger seat next to me.

I’m eager to get home and see my girl. When I left for work this morning, she was still asleep, and I didn’t want to wake her. But I’d arranged with my boss to leave a bit early, so I could go home and surprise my fiancée for our anniversary. We’ve been together for five years now, and I can’t imagine my life without her in it.

Fuck, I know I’m punching, but thankfully, she loves me anyway.

I turn into the driveway of our maisonette and frown. Her car boot is wide open. Stepping out of the car, I take a quick look inside her boot. It’s stacked full of bags and suitcases.

“Hey, babe? Are we going somewhere?” My voice rings out as I walk through the open front door. “Did you book a surprise anniversary trip? Fuck, I love it. Is it somewhere with hot bikini weather?”

Chucking my keys into the dish on the side, I toe off my shoes and continue on through the house, reaching our bedroom.

“Babe? What’s all this? Where are we going?” The room’s a mess. Clothes and items are packed in various bags and strewn across the bed and floor.

Becka freezes, her hands halting midway through shoving a pair of shoes into a holdall on the bed. She doesn’t look my way. “Shit, Max. I thought I could do this before you got home.”

Her grip on her shoes tightens, and they creak.

“Do what? I’m confused right now. Is everything okay?” I reach out to touch her, but she pulls away, drawing the shoes up to her chest as a barrier between us.

Raising my hands placatingly, I try to push down the panic rising inside me, wanting to keep calm and not make things worse.

“Don’t, Max. I just…I need you to not. This is me leaving you." Her words keep coming, but my mind cuts out, stuck on those last three words.

She’s leaving?

I don’t understand. It’s been us for years. We’re each other’s person. The words echo around in my head as I stare at her. Her mouth’s still moving, but nothing computes.

“Max? Are you even listening? I didn’t want you to be here to see this. But I can’t do this anymore. Do you understand? I need more in my life. I don’t want to live here in some small, dingy house whilst you come home every night smelling of building sites and covered in dirt.” She gestures at me, and I glance down at my dusty trousers and T-shirt. “I want a nice house, a corporate husband, and kids.”

Throwing the shoes into the bag, she turns back around and grabs another pair.

“You do? Shit, babe. You’ve never said all that before. What do you want me to do to change? To help make you happy?” I beg, desperate to somehow do something to make things right. She adds another pair of shoes, and I quickly remove and hide them in the open drawer behind me.

“Max.” She sighs. “Stop it. Taking my stuff won’t stop me leaving. Stop being childish. You need to grow up and stop trying to be funny all the time. I never said anything because it’s not who you are. Let’s face it, you don’t do serious, so there was never any point in telling you. I had hoped you would grow up as we got older, and with us getting engaged. But you just haven’t changed.” She shrugs.

How can she end this so easily?

“That’s it? You’re done with us, with me?” My words are a whisper, choked by all the emotions I didn’t realise I could feel. Should I be able to feel my heart break?

Glancing down at my hands, I see that they aren’t crumbling to pieces. It apparently just feels as though I’m fracturing and falling apart.

She huffs as she zips the bag, then picks it up and turns to me. “I was done a while ago, Max. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Ragged pain slices through my chest, and I swallow hard.

Brushing past, Becka walks out the door, pausing to say, “I’ll message you to arrange collecting the rest of my stuff when you’re not here.” Then she continues down the stairs and out of my life.

A sharp pain radiates through my ear, dragging me back. “Ow, what the fuck?” I flinch, rubbing at the injured skin.

“You were just standing there daydreaming.” Nate shrugs, walking away and joining the others as they all grab a seat in the living area, the coffee table in the middle full of the different pizzas Bry made.