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She frowns slightly before looking back up at me with a forced smile. It’s so much different from the first smile she gave me. It sets me on edge, causing my anxiety to spike. But the excitement of seeing Ben’s face when I tell him outweighs any anxiety I am starting to feel right now.
She gives me the key card and squeezes my hand. “Good luck, dear. I truly wish you the best.” That’s not weird at all…
I brush it off and head for the elevator, taking it up to the 8th floor.
My heart pounds in my chest, and I can’t wipe the smile off my face. It’s early enough that he should still be in his room before needing to go to his meetings. I get to the door and take a deep breath, feeling butterflies flutter in my stomach.
This changes everything. I can’t wait. I’ve needed this. Things have been hard for me mentally, and this is what I’ve needed, whatwe’veneeded.
I take the card in my hand and slowly slide it through the slot. The lock beeps as the light turns green. I crack the door open and squeeze in, trying to be quiet as I shut the door behind me. This hotel room is extravagant with its high ceilings, floor to ceiling windows, full living room, and partial kitchen. It also has multiple rooms with the master to the right, it seems. That door is pushed partially closed, so I assume he must be sleeping in today. I walk towards the door on silent feet, trying to hold in my squeal of excitement, wanting to surprise him, but I stop deep in my tracks when I hear laughter.
Not just any laughter. Female laughter. It booms in my ears as I freeze in place. Not daring to move or breathe. There is a squeal and then a deep chuckle. My husband’s chuckle.
I step forward, then step again. Now paused right at the door. All I have to do is lift my hand and push it open. But yet my arms stay glued to my sides. This isn’t happening. Sweat trickles down my spine as my breathing turns ragged, my vision blurring with tears.
You can do this, Presley. You have to do this.
Inhale, exhale, push. My shaking hand reaches up and pushes the door open. The laughter has since died down and is now just the sound of female moans. I take another step forward, my legs feeling like they weigh a hundred pounds each. They still don’t see me as I step in and watch my husband go down on another woman.
Something inside of me is telling me to run. Leave the room and never look back. Fly to another country, change my name, change my appearance and never, ever, look back. But something else inside of me, the part that is always scared to come out, that wants to stand up to mean people, that wants to not be so scared of the outcome if she speaks her mind, or demands what she wants, and doesn’t run away like a coward…
For once in my twenty-nine years, she shows up. I don’t run. I attempt to face my bastard husband.
My hands clench and unclench at my sides as my heart pounds erratically in my chest. I quickly wipe the tears off my cheeks before pushing on the door, making it thud against the wall. Ben leaps from the bed, ready to defend the naked woman behind him. She screams and grabs the sheet to cover her naked, perfect body.
“Presley! Baby, what are you doing here?”
“I’m—I’m here to see you.” I whisper, my resolve cracking as I stare into his eyes. Eyes that I have loved for so many years. “I came to tell you I'm pregnant.” I say the one thing I’ve been dying to say to him for the last twenty-four hours, attempting to make my voice sound stronger than it is but failing miserably.
I really just want to crumble to the floor and scream and sob until my mind numbs itself and turns off.
Ben smiles and rushes towards me, hugging me tightly while lifting me up in his arms. I don’t move. I can’t. As he laughs and swings me around, I don’t know what to think. My heart is falling out of my chest as I watch this moment happen. A moment I’ve craved for years. Every time a test I took turned negative, I’d cry for this. The joy I would get to share this news with him. After every negative test, he’d tell me I was failing and usually wouldn’t come home that night.
Is this why? Would he go off and sleep with some other woman? Bile rises in my throat the longer his hands are on me, but I can’t bring myself to shove him away. I feel numb. Is this even real?
His current mistress witnessing this will be burned into my brain for the rest of my life. Every time I shut my eyes, I will see her sitting on the bed, staring at us with her jaw on the floor. Her perfect, petite face masked with confusion. While her beautiful long blonde hair is tangled and messy from my husband’s hands. The hands he loves to use to pull on hair while he fucks you into the mattress.
I squeeze my eyes shut and exhale a shaky breath.Stop thinking about that, Presley. Now is not the time to give yourself a panic attack.
“Ben.” He steps back from me, still smiling, staring at me, his eyes sparkling with a joy I haven’t seen in a few years. “I am going to head to the airport and see if I can get a flight back today. I think it’s best if you stay for the rest of your trip. We can work this out when you get home,” I say, feeling defeated and cold. So cold.
But not actually cold, like my heart is frozen and as soon as I am away from him, it will shatter. But as much as I want this to work, as much I want to be with Ben and move past this, I don’t know if I can ever look at him and not see him fucking another woman again.
Will I always be paranoid that he is out screwing someone else? Will I be in a constant state of panic? I already struggle everyday with my anxiety. My mind overthinks every little thing. I can’t stay in this relationship and keep living like this. It would drag me down into the deepest depression hole there is.
Ben’s smile finally drops. He turns back towards the woman and yells at her to get out. She cries and asks why, but he treats her like garbage, cursing and berating her as I step back out into the living room area. Numb to the words. Hearing his raised voice and her high-pitched whines, but not taking in any words.
Everything feels robotic. I need to go. Leave. Run. If I stay here, he will convince me to give him another chance. I can’t do that. I can’t give in.Be brave, Presley.
Before I can do anything, hands are on my shoulders, pushing me down to sit on the soft, plush couch. I’d like to sink into this comfy warm couch and take a nap. Hands grab my face, forcing me to look into his silver eyes. Silver eyes I thought were so unique and beautiful. They were one of my favorite features about him.
“Baby, you are panicking. Calm down. It’s alright. This is what we needed. We can fix everything now. I really thought you were just broken, so I was preparing to get a son another way. But you’re not. This is perfect. You don’t need to leave. Why would you leave?”
I stare at him, his words slowly, painfully, sinking in. My face scrunches, not wanting to believe what he is saying. Who is this man? He is not the man that held me on the bathroom floor a month ago as I cried over another negative test. He held me up and promised everything would be okay and we would make it through this.
“Yo—You cheated on me. I can’t, I can’t forgive that.” I shake my head, fighting the incoming tears and moving to stand, but he stops me with his hands on my thighs. Hands that burn my flesh through the jeans I am wearing.
“Baby, I was doing that for us, don’t you get it?” His face contorts with anger. I drop my eyes down to his large hands on my thighs, the burning sensation getting worse the longer they stay touching me.
