Chapter 25
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As I stared at the beautifully set table, several emotions surged within me. Anger. Sadness. A dull ache in my chest that I couldn’t quite place. But most of all, I felt exhausted. I was so tired of pretending, of making excuses for him. I was tired of wondering if this time would be different. If this time, when he came through that door, he’d have the decency to look me in the eye and apologize.
But deep down, I knew better. Tristan never apologized. Not for the mistakes he made. Not for the times he hurt me. He didn’t know how. And I didn’t know if I had the strength to keep hoping that one day he would. But still, I carried on, like I always did.
I poured myself a glass of wine, hoping it would calm my nerves. I wasn’t sure if it would help, but I needed something. My hands were trembling as I took a sip, the bitter taste sliding down my throat. It didn’t taste like it used to–smooth and comforting.
Now, it just reminded me of all the years I had spent in a marriage that had turned into a lie.
It’s strange how quickly the world can shift, how everything can feel like it’s on solid ground one moment, and then, in the blink of an eye, it all crumbles. That’s how it was when the afternoon drifted into evening, and Tristan still hadn’t come home.
I tried calling him–over and over–practically willing the phone to ring, but each time, it went straight to voicemail. His phone was unreachable.
My heart started to pound in my chest, and with every unanswered call, my anxiety grew. Something wasn’t right. Tristan would never do this to me, not without at least a message to say he was running late.
By eight o’clock in the evening, I couldn’t sit still any longer. I grabbed my coat, ready to head out to the police, to make sure that Tristan was alright…when my phone buzzed. I stopped in my tracks, eyes wide as I glanced at the screen. The message was from an unknown number, and something about it felt… wrong.
I opened it, the screen lighting up with a video. My heart skipped a beat as I pressed play, a sick feeling forming in the pit of my stomach. The video started to load, and the first thing I saw was Tristan.
He wasn’t in any danger…instead, he was in a club, laughing and dancing, looking carefree, lost in the rhythm. He was with someone–a woman, a stranger at first glance–then my blood ran cold as I realized who it was.
Gabriella.
Of course, it was her. She was too close, too familiar. I watched, my breath caught in my throat, as Tristan pulled her in, spinning her around, and then–then he kissed her.
The world stopped spinning for a moment. My eyes couldn’t focus, my heart couldn’t seem to catch up with my thoughts. Everything felt as if it was closing in on me, the walls of my house suddenly feeling too small, too cold. The video blurred as my fingers trembled, and before I could stop myself, the phone slipped from my hand. It clattered to the floor, a dull thud, but the sound of it was lost in the deafening silence in my chest.
I fell to my knees, the weight of it all crashing down on me in one terrible moment. My breath came in short, ragged bursts, and I couldn’t make sense of what I was feeling–devastation, betrayal, confusion, pain… all of it mingling in a way I couldn’t put into words.
How could he do this to me? My Tristan, the man I trusted more than anyone, the one I thought I knew inside out, had just torn my heart into pieces.
Tears stung at my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not yet. Not when I needed answers. But the ache in my chest was undeniable, the hollow feeling growing with each passing second.
I wanted to scream, to lash out at someone, but all I could do was sit there on the floor, the cold tile beneath me a stark contrast to the warmth that had once filled this space.
