Chapter 5: Thalie's confession

Nat’s POV

The evening air bites with a chill the sunny afternoon never has. Each gust through the cab's slightly open window feels like cold needles to my sinus, sending me into another sneeze.

“Bless you,” the driver murmurs for the fifth time. I massage the bridge of my nose, muttering a thank you under my breath.

My gaze drifts to the window, where beautiful, colorful streaks of lights spread, buildings piercing into the horizon. People pass by in vignette, their figures blurred, each in their own, different world.

I can’t help but wonder.

Could any of their worlds be as messed up as mine? This tangled, shattered, and miserable?

[Stop thinking about it. About him.] That’s all Noelle says, voice trembling, anger brewing in her tone like mist in the cold.

Making up my mind to leave is one thing; my aching heart, whose shattering pieces I can hear, is another.

I can leave, but can I forget the way I am treated?

I am not unfeeling after all. The disappointment is there, pressing against my chest and making it almost impossible to breathe. It is suffocating.

How could he…?

Just how…

My hand trembles as I clench it into a fist.

How could the same man who tells me I’m the love of his life just two weeks ago be the same one who sees me fall into the pool with his lover, and without hesitation, dives in to save her, and leaves without turning back?

Upon arriving home, I am welcomed to the open embrace of the solid silence that envelops me.

I take in two cold pills on my palm, toss them into my mouth alongside some water that tastes bitter than my tears. The porcelain cup clicks against the marbled island. And my stomach, as if waiting for the moment, sends a growl as a protest of hunger.

However, the thought of making something small, like even a noodle, feels like a huge task and sends a lack of appetite to my tongue.

"A shower first," I mumble, taking off my clothes. "A hot one." To chase away this coldness that keeps thawing its way through my skin to my heart.

Who knows I’ll end up sleeping inside the bathtub?

When my eyes snap open the next day, all I feel in the first few seconds is numbness, and then coldness follows. Before I know it, my teeth are chattering against each other, and my body is trembling without my control. Weak morning light spills against the glass, yet I feel no warmth from it.

From the bedroom, the sound of my phone chiming loudly and incessantly makes its way into my ears.

Placing my arm flatly against the enamel, I push myself up. The world blurs right before my eyes, the wall swaying and sending a pounding headache to my skull.

Before my mind can make sense of what is happening, my foot slips on the wet surface, and the sound of my wet skin slapping against the floor momentarily shadows the ringtone of my phone. A gasp escapes through my lips as numbing pain travels through my lower back.

I close my eyes, part of me unable to move, and part of me not wanting to. I lie there for a while, the tiled floor sucking whatever warmth I have left.

It takes seconds, or maybe a minute, before I finally have enough strength to roll back and rise. This time around, I am as careful as I can be.

My phone’s ringtone grows louder, showing the determination of whoever the caller is. I grab my bag and upend it onto the bed, my weight sinking into the soft white blanket.

The caller ID makes me pause.

…Ivan.

He didn’t come home last night…

I watch it ring, staring at the screen as if I don’t know where the answer button is. The screen goes dark, and that is when I snap out of my daze. Not a second later, the screen blinks back to life, his name flashing like a siren.

This time, I swipe to answer, raising the phone to my ear, but the angry roar that comes through sends a jolt of instinctive shock through me.

“Where the hell did you put your phone?! Why weren’t you picking up my calls?!" His enraged voice fills the room despite the speaker being set to medium. "Was Thalie right all along, huh? You were taken home by one of the dudes from the party which explains why you don’t have time to answer my calls? So much for acting like you’re innocent! I really thought you’d prove me wrong!”

I hold the phone away. His rant twists my stomach with disgust and anger. How can he say such hurtful, corrosive words without any reserve?

He only pauses for a second. “What?! Why are you silent?!"

My hand tightens around the phone, knuckles turning white, my lips parting.

My voice comes out heavy, but not shaky enough to show the rage. “Where were you last night?”

Silence.

I shake my head and walk to the closet.

I can hear his heavy breath and almost his frantic calculations.

“Have you heard of this saying? Every accusation is a confession. And the unfaithful… sees betrayal everywhere.”

This time, it is so quiet you’d hear a pin drop.

My lips lift into a small smile, not from happiness, but from the absurdity of being accused by someone who is in the wrong.

I pull open the closet, my eyes taking in my work clothes. “How do you get to question my whereabouts when you’re wrapped up with your mistress, huh? I’m home right now. Where are you? Tell me, Ivan. On whose bed do you wake up this morning?"

He growls, the sound reverberating through the speaker, stern and grounded. “Don’t you dare call Thalie a mistress. She is not one.”

“She is not? Really?” I ask while pulling a blouse from the hanger. I haven’t forgotten that today is Thursday, a workday, and as much as my body screams for a rest, my commitment to my patients is the thread that keeps me sane.

“Of course she is not. She’s my childhood sweetheart. My friend. She was there for me in my time of need when no one was. She was my shoulder. Calling her that is blatant disrespect to our relationship."

“Really? I have no idea," I say flatly, picking out a pant. "After all, I would never think of leaving my partner to play 'shoulder' overnight with my ex.”

I can hear the grinding of his teeth through the line. “What the heck are you even implying, Nat?”

There is a rustling noise on the other side, whispers, and that thin, sweet voice dripping with fakeness comes through. “It’s me, Nat.”

I set the clothes down and walk to the bathroom, staring at my utterly pale reflection in the mirror. “I told you," I say firmly. "It's not Nat for you."

Her voice suddenly trembles. “I… I love Ivan.”