Chapter 3 3

Richard Pov

The wheel jerks in my grip as I make the turn out of Eve's apartment complex. My hands are shaking, my chest too tight to breathe properly. I can't think straight. I can't see straight.

I shouldn't be driving.

But sitting in that driveway any longer, knowing what's happening just a floor above me, would've broken me into something dangerous.

So I drive.

Fast enough to feel in control.

Slow enough not to kill myself.

My jaw clenches every time I hear her voice again. "Yes, Jake." Over and over. Burned into my brain like a bad tattoo. My mouth tastes like metal. My pulse keeps skipping, then crashing.

I dig my thumb into the steering wheel, pressing so hard I swear I could snap it off.

Jake.

My best friend.

My brother in everything but blood.

He held my hand when my father died. He toasted at my wedding. He helped me pick the fucking suit I wore the day I married Arabel.

And he's the one Eve wraps her legs around the moment she comes back.

I should turn around. I should walk back into that room and tear him apart.

But I won't.

Because if I do, I won't stop.

I clench the gearshift, pressing down on the brake just before I fly past a red light. I exhale. The sob that wants to come out stays lodged in my throat.

No tears.

Not for her.

She doesn't deserve them.

And yet, they sting behind my eyes anyway. The kind that builds slow. The kind that hurts worse because you're not allowed to cry in the first place.

My phone buzzes in the cup holder. Probably my secretary, wondering why I missed my appointment. Or my mother, sensing the world's on fire. Or Jake, God forbid.

I don't check.

Instead, I think about Arabel.

I think about her standing there, hopeful, vulnerable, only for me to tell her I wanted a divorce. I didn't even have the decency to lie soft.

She looked at me like I ripped her open with my bare hands. And I told myself it was for love.

But what kind of love makes you discard a woman who's done nothing but try?

I grip the wheel tighter and pull into a gas station to stop myself from crashing into the guilt eating through my skin.

What did I even say to her?

That I wanted Eve.

That she was just temporary.

That I was going to marry someone else.

God, I'm a monster.

I rake a hand through my hair and squeeze the back of my neck until it hurts. Arabel didn't just take that quietly. I saw it in her eyes. That break. That snap.

And I left her like that.

I left her broken to chase someone who was already betraying me.

If I go back now, what do I even say?

Sorry, I take it back. Let's pretend I didn't try to trade you in for my cheating ex.

That sounds like something she should slap me for.

But I have to try.

Because suddenly, I'm not sure I deserve her... but I'm even more sure I can't lose her.

Not now.

Not like this.

I push the gear into drive and head home.

The house is too quiet when I arrive. Not empty, just... cold.

I nod at the butler without making eye contact. He says something. I don't hear it. My ears are still ringing with Eve's moans and the echo of Arabel's silence.

I make my way down the hall. The photos on the wall blur. Our wedding. A fundraiser gala. Some political dinner. All the times I stood beside Arabel pretending to be someone she could love.

She smiled in every one.

I didn't even try to.

I pause at her door.

We haven't shared a room since the beginning. That was my rule. Clear lines. No confusion. No intimacy.

Until two months ago.

She fell asleep on my bed, wrapped in my arms, soft and warm like home I didn't realize I had.

And I let it happen.

I told myself it was nothing.

I lied.

I knock.

No answer.

I press my ear against the wood. Nothing. Not even shuffling.

"Arabel?" My voice cracks, quiet and unsure for the first time in years.

Still nothing.

I try again, louder this time. "Arabella, please."

Silence.

The sick feeling in my gut shifts into dread. I reach for the handle and turn.

Unlocked.

The door creaks open slowly.

Empty.

Her closet is wide open, and completely bare.

What the hell?

I walk in fully now, chest rising and falling too fast. All her dresses. Her silk scarves. The perfume bottles she lined up perfectly. Gone.

I open the drawers. Empty.

Bathroom counter. Empty.

Makeup tray. Empty.

She's not here.

She left.

I whirl around and spot the envelope on the bed.

The divorce papers.

The ones I gave her in cruelty.

I pick them up. My name stares back at me, typed cleanly beside hers.

And under her signature... there it is.

Arabel's handwriting.

A separate piece of paper slips from the folder, floating to the floor like something delicate and final.

I bend down to grab it.

Two words.

Thank you. Goodbye.

The floor feels like it caves beneath me.

I sit on the bed hard. The paper crumples in my hand, my vision blurs, but I force the tears back because crying now won't undo anything.

She signed the papers.

She walked out of our home.

She left me.

And I deserve it.

Every. Fucking. Bit.

I clutch the note tighter. My mouth opens but nothing comes out.

Not even her name.

Because I don't know if I have the right to say it anymore.

Do I go after her?

What do I even say?

That I've changed my mind?

That I suddenly realized she meant more than I ever let on?

Would that even matter now?

Would I matter to her?

I pace the room, dragging a hand down my face, my heartbeat deafening. I try to imagine where she could've gone. Her sister's? A hotel? Out of the country?

I pull out my phone and tap her number.

Voicemail.

Again.

And again.

I send a text. "Please. Let's talk."

Nothing.

I message her again.

"I'm sorry."

Still nothing.

I want to scream.

I want to hit something.

But I don't.

I just stand there. Alone. With divorce papers and a goodbye note.

Everything I asked for.

Everything I thought I wanted.

And now that it's here, it feels like a knife I twisted into my own chest.

My gaze drifts to the vanity. One bobby pin sits forgotten on the edge of the mirror. A hair tie on the nightstand. Little fragments of her.

The ones I never noticed until they were all I had left.

My knees buckle, and I drop onto the bed again, burying my face in my hands.

This is hell.

Not the betrayal from Eve.

Not Jake's cowardice.

This.

This silence.

This note.

This empty room that used to hold the one person who, despite everything, never stopped trying to love me.

And I broke her anyway.

I let go of a woman who never let go of me.

And now?

She's gone.