Mag-log inAfter four years of a loveless marriage, Eleanor is blindsided by her husband Arthur's abrupt decision to divorce her. The convenient arrangement that had suited them both had, seemingly, run its course. As Eleanor struggles to come to terms with the end of their marriage, she can't help but feel discarded - a pawn replaced by Arthur's rekindled flame, a woman from his past. But just as Eleanor is starting to rebuild her life, Arthur drops a bombshell: he wants her back. His reasons are unclear, but one thing is certain - His regret.
view more—ELEANOR—— My body feels sore the minute I find myself awake and I wonder if I had done a three-man job in my sleep.I move around on my bed and then pause at the thought of me never going home last night, so the bed I'm on is definitely not mine.Oh right. Oh wait.The party, Arthur. I’m at Vanessa’s!My head hurts so badly, and I am trying to recall everything that went down last night so I know where to begin my day.Crap.Why did I drink so much?So much happened at that darn party.I look down at my body and let out an actual scream.Why the heck am I in a robe? I was in a dress last night.The door to the room opens and Arthur walks in holding a spatula and wearing an apron. His hair is tousled and he looks like he’s wrestling a bear.Okay, that’s new.“What! What’s wrong?” He asks, looking at me all worked up.“M-my dress,” I say. “Why am I in a robe?”He lets out a sigh of relief and his tensed shoulders drop.“I thought you were in danger, you screamed because of your robe?
—ARTHUR—-I don’t realize I’m gritting my teeth too tightly until Eleanor giggles at me and pokes my chin.“Are you hiding something in your mouth?”“Okay it’s enough, why don’t we just go to bed” I say, feeling stupid for letting my anger boil and simmer over.I was the fool who asked about Leon, so why am I getting mad?But thinking about it for the one hundredth time; she owes him everything? Just what did he do for her that I can’t top? Why is he her entire personality at this point?I sigh, pondering whether I should give up on my search for Leon. Whoever he is, he wins. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying to get Eleanor to love me.I need her to understand I want her to want me the way I want her and it’s not something I can do in one day. But I’ll get there. “I’m not sleepy,” Eleanor rebukes sighing, she places her chin firmly on my chest and starts looking straight into my eyes.“I’m bored.” She announces. “Go to sleep,” I mutter internally reprimanding myself b
—ARTHUR.-I swallow the jealousy burning in my throat as I help Eleanor out of the bath, her skin warm and damp beneath my steady hands. The steam clings to her like a second skin as I wrap a thick robe around her body, securing it snugly against the chill of the room.She’s awake now, but her eyes are glassy, her gaze unfocused, as if she’s moving through a dream. It’s not clear if she knows where she is or who’s beside her — maybe in her mind, it’s not me at all.In the bedroom, she collapses onto the bed, restless, tossing from side to side. Words spill from her lips in half-formed sentences, nonsensical and random… until they’re not.Her hangover will be merciless come morning, and she’ll probably remember none of this, none of the stumbling, none of the bath… none of the moment her voice softened in that drowsy haze and she mumbled a name I’ve grown to despise.Leon.The sound of it still clings to the walls in my head.I hate that bastard. I hate that he’s always one step ahead
—ARTHUR.-I’ve never seen Eleanor this drunk. Not once in all the years we’ve spent together as husband and wife. Not at weddings. Not at rowdy office parties where everyone else is swaying and spilling their drinks. Not even during those rare nights when we were alone and she might have let herself loosen up a little.She’s always so composed, so deliberate about her public image, the type of woman who holds a champagne flute for hours without ever actually emptying it. People probably think she’s allergic to alcohol, the way she avoids even the smallest sip. I’ve never questioned it—it was simply who she was.And now? Now she’s leaning heavily against me, her skin warm and flushed, her eyes glazed and struggling to focus. Her hair is damp from splashes of water she probably didn’t notice. The faint smell of wine clings to her breath. Something’s broken her tonight. Something strong enough to pull her past her own rules. My mind immediately goes to Brianna, to that simmering situati






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