After Two Years

Chapter 1: 

Alina pov

After two years, I dragged my suitcase through the crowded airport and finally made it to the city.

 The scent of home and gasoline filled the air. Excited and exhausted I smiled as I took in everything around me. Not much had changed though and I just couldn't wait to see him.

“I’m back.” I muttered, still looking around.

I had spent two years studying fashion in Italy far from friends and family and everything that I know. 

My mind flashed to my husband of three years. I didn't want to call him now and tell him that I was back.

We had spoken over the phone but I didn't bring it up.

 It was supposed to be a surprise. I pictured his startled expression, how his arms would encircle me in a firm embrace and he would kiss me and tell me how much he misses me and how we would drift off to sleep after making love as if nothing had happened.

I immediately took a taxi to the Luxe Haven Hotel which we frequently stayed at when we needed a break from family strife.

 I was not ready to return home just yet. My plans were to rest, go to the spa, do a little shopping and make plans to surprise him and Camille, my step sister too.

She had cried at the airport two years ago when I left for Italy and had never stopped calling.

Perhaps I should tell her first that I was back. I had bought her an expensive designer bag too.

The hotel remained the same, still refined, calm and hospitable. I made my way to the reception area. 

“Good evening, ma'am.”

 The youthful receptionist greeted guests to Luxe Haven with a kind smile. “Are you booking a reservation?”

“Yes, as Alina Thompson.”

She paused typing on her computer and gave it a start. 

“Alina Thompson?”

 I nodded, feeling uneasy all of a sudden, the smile on my lips gone.

 “Yes, is there a problem please?”

Her eyes grew wide and she forced a smile in a hurry. 

“Oh no. I'm sorry. It's just…. You look familiar, you are the ex wife of Barry Romano, —oh—I mean.” She said and looked away. “I'm really sorry.”

She went back to her computer.

I went cold.

 Ex-wife?

 I blinked. “What did you just say?”

She appeared to have swallowed her words. “I apologize.”

“I heard what you said.”

“I was just curious. A reservation for the Thompson- Ross wedding was just handled by the hotel so I thought—I mean your husband is getting married right? Please don't be upset. I didn’t realize it was private.”

 Thompson. Ross

 Camille & Barry. 

My chest tightened. 

“Thank you.” I said, my voice stiff and my neck too tight to nod back at her.

 I grabbed the room key and left as quickly as I could without losing my mind. 

The elevator made me stand motionless. My ears started to ring. The key card was tightly held by my fingers. The elevator seemed to be punishing me by moving slowly. 

I got to my room and I sat on the edge of the bed in the room and looked at the floor. Camille, my younger sister.

 No. This must have been a mistake. A cruel mistake, I almost laughed . It might be another Thompson, perhaps she misheard.

 I did my best not to believe that. I really did but the truth however felt like a biting reality. And it always manages to bite now as I try to ignore it.

My phone buzzed a couple of hours later as I was unpacking. 

Unknown Number: Mrs. Thompson, welcome home. Or should I say the sister of Miss Camille?

 I frowned. What the hell?. Then a second message arrived. 

Unknown Number: Watch and cry my love. It had a video file attached. I was hesitant to click. 

I hesitated with my thumb flicking over it but curiosity can be harmful. I hit play. The clip began. I was initially perplexed by what I was seeing. 

Next I noticed the bed, the bed we use back home, and the decor, that was our room too.

I chose the sheets, the space I furnished. He made love to me on that bed .I saw Barry's hand and Camille's voice and I froze.

He was now groaning her name and caressing her as he had touched me. I felt uneasy. I felt my throat tighten. In the video Camille laughed and muttered after she moaned.

“ What if she finds out?”

 “She will not,” Barry said. “She is playing designer in Italy and is too busy. Let her remain there.”

 My eyes were blurry from tears. I let the phone drop and it skidded along the floor.

 Clinging to my chest, I leaned over and tried to breathe. They did this without telling me. They were ruining my life while I was pursuing my dreams.

How could they?

The betrayal was hot and painful.

 I laughed through my tears.

 Bitter broken laughter not the joyful kind. such that it leaves your mouth feeling sour. 

Camille. 

My younger sister. I had done everything for her, protected her and made sure she had nothing to lack after our parents' death. I had sacrificed my time and money and let her go to college before me and while I was pursuing my dreams she was sleeping with my husband.

And Barry, he was just a 9-5 struggling worker who I gave everything to.

I gave the man my body, my years , my money and my heart. Why would they do this to me? 

How long has this been going on? 

I ran my fingers over the message box. I wanted to curse him, yell at him and threaten him. But I didn't.

“I can't wait to become Mrs. Thompson,” Camille said, kissing his chest in the final frame of the video and I stared at it.

 She sounded as though she already thought she was. I put my hand down in my lap. I sat silently and numbly stared at the wall. 

Minutes went by, a few hours perhaps. Then something changed inside of me. After getting up I went to the mirror and gazed at my image. I had flush and red eyes, messy hair and I looked weak. 

No. I wasn't weak. I wasn't damaged. I had been wounded. Yes and betrayed too but this was not the conclusion of my story.

 If they believed they could humiliate me, erase me or do something bad to me then they were unsure of who they were playing with at that point. 

“Game on,” I muttered as I slowly wiped away my tears.