ALORA'S POV
Cassian walked into the house at exactly nine sixteen.
I knew because I had been staring at the clock on the microwave for the last twenty minutes, waiting for the sound of his keys. When I heard them hit the marble counter, I flinched anyway.
I stood near the kitchen island in a silk robe I had worn for him once, back when he used to look at me. My feet were bare and the floor was cold. I held a glass of wine I had poured an hour earlier and never touched.
He did not look at me.
Not when he dropped his phone. Not when he loosened his cufflinks. Not when I called out to him.
"Cassian."
Although I felt hopeless calling out to him, part of me still hoped he'd look at me or listen.
He paused near the stairs.
"Don't wait up," he said.
That was it. No explanation. No greeting. No question. Nothing. Just don't wait up. Unbelievable!
I laughed hysterically. "I was not planning to."
He took one step up.
"So you are just going to walk past me again," I said. "That is the plan now."
He stayed where he was, with one of his hand on the rail.
"I had a long day," he replied.
"You always do—don't you."
He turned to face me slightly. The expression on his face was poker. "I am not doing any of this tonight with you."
"When then?" I asked. "Tomorrow. Next week. Or never."
Silence.
I took a step closer. "You have been avoiding me for months."
"That is not true."
"Then look at me."
He did not.
"Look at me Cassian!" I screamed while tears dropped from my eyes, I didn't even mean to, it was just out of emotion.
"Cassian please."
"Why can't you look at me?" I sobbed gently this time. "Why?"
"You sleep in the guest room. You eat without me. You answer your calls in the bathroom. You leave early and come back late. You don't eat the breakfast I make. You don't make love to me. You barely spend time with me. And now you—you cannot even pretend there's nothing wrong."
He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply, like I was a problem he couldn't get rid of. When did it get to this? How did we get to this?
"You are reaching," he said.
I laughed again, at this point the line between myself and insanity and was very thin. "Reaching for what. My husband?."
"Alora." He said slowly.
I waited.
"You are overreacting."
"Me—overreacting. Am I overreacting?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yes Alora. You are overreacting and I want you to stop it." He responded to me in an annoyed tone.
"What's her name," I said, fighting back my tears.
"What."
"The woman upstairs. What's her name."
"There is no one upstairs."
"The guest room door closed five minutes ago."
He went still.
"That room is free," he said.
"Do you think I am stupid."
He turned to face me fully this time.
"I think you enjoy drama."
And that statement did it.
"Drama," I repeated. "I am standing in my kitchen asking my husband if he is cheating and you are calling it drama."
He rubbed his forehead. "I am not having this conversation."
"Because you might have to answer."
He walked up the stairs.
I followed him halfway before my legs gave out. I sank onto the stool by the island, with shaky hands. My robe slipped off my shoulder and I did not bother fixing it.
"Cassian," I said again, this time lighter. "Please—please Cassian. Please."
"I don't deserve this. I don't deserve any of this. Why do you treat me this way." I let all my tears flow freely.
He stopped at the top.
"What do you want from me," he asked.
"The truth." I looked up at him.
Another pause.
"Can you handle it."
I swallowed. "Try me."
He turned his head just enough to glance back, but his eyes held no form of apology.
"You are still my wife," he said. "And that is all you need to know."
"That is not an answer."
He went upstairs. And closed the door behind him. I stared at the counter. At the glass of wine. At my reflection in the polished stone. I told myself not to cry anymore, but I failed woefully and let the tears fall.
I hated this. Where did I go wrong?
My phone buzzed, but I refused to look at it. Let me wallow in my pain.
It kept buzzing continuously and I picked it up. It was a text from both Zara and Nyla.
I opened the messages
'Open the door'
And almost immediately I heard knocking at the door. I was torn between ignoring it and just responding. But the Zara I know would break the door down and Nyra would climb through the chimney if I didn't open up. So I picked to open the door anyway.
Once I did Zara's expression fell.
"Oh my poor baby," she said quietly.
"I am fine," I lied.
Nyla pushed past me. "No you are not."
"You look awful," Zara added. "What did he do?"
"He did nothing," I said. "It's fine—I'm fine." But I couldn't help it and ended up crying.
"I'm sorry. I just don't know what to do. Where did I go wrong? What did I do wrong?" I cried in their arms.
"Oh baby, you didn't do anything wrong. It's that dick head Cassian who's wrong here." Zara responded and hugged me.
"Yeah, he's a total asshole. Where is the bitch anyway." Nyra asked.
I sniffed. "Upstairs"
Zara let go of me and handed her purse to Nyra "Hold this for me, I'll be right back."
I quickly held Zara back.
"Please don't, it'll just make things worse. I think he's up there with someone too. Just please. Please don't."
"He's with a bitch too! That's just messed up. More reasons why I should break his spine." Zara said, cracking her fingers, while moving towards the stairs.
"Please Zara please." I turned to Nyra. "Nyra help me out here."
Nyla groaned. "I'm with Zara's side on this one."
"Please—please. I'm begging you." I almost crouched to my knees.
"Fine. Just don't kneel." Zara said while helping me up.
They moved me to the couch and we all sat down.
"You can't stay here, while he's upstairs fucking some basic bitch." Nyra said and Zara nodded in agreement.
"You know what I think." Zara suggested with her ever knowing mischievous grin moving across her face.
"I think we should go out. You can't stay in here sulking over a man who doesn't give a shit about you."
"No—no I don't want to go out," I said quickly.
"All the more reason why we should." Nyra stood up and pulled at my arm. "Get uppp."
They dragged me to my room and put me on the bed. Pulling my robes over, leaving me in my nightwear alone.
"Please girls, I really don't feel like it" I begged them again. Even though deep down I knew they wouldn't listen. But one's gotta hope right?
"You are going out," Zara replied. "Put on your shoes."
"I am serious."
"So am I."
Zara opened my closet. "Let's see—a short black dress, with an open back."
"I am not in the mood."
"You are never in the mood," Zara said. "That is why we are here."
They moved quickly ignoring all my protests. Nyla wiped my face. While Zara fixed my hair.
"This is embarrassing," I muttered.
"What is embarrassing is staying home, crying over a man who is clearing fucking another bitch in your matrimonial home," Nyla replied.
That was all it took for me to give up arguing. I guess they were right.
They booked an Uber and we left for the club.
The first thing that welcomed me once we got there was the music. It was loud and full of life. Exactly what I needed to clear my mind. We got drinks, drank and danced for a couple of minutes. And I could say those few minutes were the best of my life in a long time.
By the time the music died down, we got more drinks and separated ways. I clutched mine carefully and stood near the wall.
Zara danced with a man in a blazer. While Nyla laughed with someone by the bar.
I eventually decided to make a move and while trying to do that, a man bumped into me.
"Oh I'm so sorry," he said.
"It is fine."
Another drink appeared in my hand. But I don't remember ordering it.
"How are you holding up," Zara asked when she came back.
"I am here."
"That is a start."
One drink became two. Two, three. Three, several that I couldn't keep count of. I was eventually tipsy and my head felt lighter. I kept stumbling back and forth, but a pair of hands caught me.
"Easy there tiger," a man said.
His voice was calm.
"I am okay," I replied.
"You do not look it."
"I need to sit down."
He guided me to the wall and did not touch more than necessary.
"Bad night," he asked.
"You could say that."
He nodded. "You wanna talk about it?"
"No," I said. Then, "Yes."
I spoke in pieces. About marriage. Silence. Being unseen. And he listened through it all.
Then nothing.
The next morning I woke up in a hotel room. With white sheets and a beautiful sunrise few.
The hangover hit me quickly and my head hurt badly.
I looked around. I was dressed in a white robe. Probably from the hotel. My shoes were at the bottom of the bed and my clothes folded neatly on the armrest. My phone sat beside me.
No messages from Cassian.
Only Zara and Nyla asking if I was safe.
I stood up and went to the door.
I did not panic. If anything I only felt tired.
Whatever happened last night did not change what waited for me at home.
And I was done waiting.