Chapter 3

Chapter 3: A Lonely Christmas

~Sara Pov~

I just kept running.

The air slammed against my lungs, icy cold air slammed at my face, but I just didn't give a damn. The city lights blurred together through the tears streaming down my face. My heart thudded in my chest, I felt pain like never before. Its felt so painful. 

My heels clicked noisily against the pavement, and then one gave way and twisted my ankle, making me stop dead in my tracks. I hobbled up onto the sidewalk and dropped down onto my knees as finally the weight of everything crashed down.

And then I just broke.

I curled into myself, my arms wrapping around my legs as sobs tore from my chest. It was raw like an animal in pain. 

I didn't care who saw me—didn't care how I looked. The hurt was too much, too big to hold in.

I replayed his words in my head, each one a little sharper than the last.

The vision of Emma's smug face, her cruel smile, everything just twisted my gut into a sickening knot. I buried my face against my knees and another sob came out.

How could he do this? How could the man I loved, the man I thought loved me, tear me to shreds like this?

I have no idea how long I sat crying there on the sidewalk. It could have been minutes or even hours, but none of that mattered anymore.

When finally my tears began drying up, I wiped my face with my shaky hands. A glance in a nearby store window made me recoil. My cheeks were red and pale white, my eyes puffy and bloodshot. I sucked breaths through my lips that would not stop shivering.

The city was as lovely as always. 

Christmas lights blink in every direction, curling around trees and buildings and shining softly against the night. Couples stroll hand in hand, laughing, faces of all of them were flushed with joy. 

Children tug at the hands of their parents, pointing out the shop windows with all their silly holiday trimmings. Wherever I look, there is joy and warmth and love.

But not loneliness.

I put a hand on my stomach, the new wave of tears scorching my eyes.

I was three weeks pregnant.

The reality slammed into me anew, brutal and unyielding. I was going to tell him in the Maldives at Christmas, make it special, perfect—just like this life I thought we were building.

I had dreamed of it so clearly, his face, the brilliance of joy in his eyes when I would say to him that he was going to be a father. I pictured him picking me up in his arms, saying he loved me—that we were going to have a family now.

Now it all seemed like some kind of cruel joke.

I let out a painful laugh and bore down harder on my stomach. The only thing that kept me from falling apart, that kept me tied to myself, was this heat beneath my hand.

Why? Why had he made love to me that night? Why did he cradle me so lovingly, whisper what sounded like promises, if he knew he didn't want me?

I'd thought it was love. I'd thought it was real. But now I realized it was good-bye. He'd been giving me that one last moment before he finally moved on to someone else.

A quivering breath tumbled out as I let my eyelids close. His betrayal cut me up more than I ever have been hurt by anyone.

How come I didn't see it?

I do not know how many blocks up and down the streets I went in those few hours. My suitcase trailed behind me, its wheels softly clicking on the pavement.

The whole city was alive with the cheer of holidays, strings of lights twinkled overhead, casting everything in a soft, golden light. Street vendors were roasting chestnuts and selling hot chocolate, calling out as people passed.

I passed a group of carolers, their well-sung, harmonized voices floating through the crisp night air as they sang on a street corner.

Families pressed their faces to the brightly lit shop windows, children pointing excitedly at mechanical reindeer and life-size snowmen. Couples strolled arm in arm, sharing quiet smiles and stolen kisses.

It was beautiful.

But for me, it hurt.

Whatever I saw, wherever I looked, was a life I felt I'd lost: laughter, love, connection. 

I had thought this Christmas was going to be special, filled to the brim with romance and happiness. I had thought David and I would take long, romantic strolls through these very same streets, hands linked, discussing our future.

Now here I was. Alone. Broken.

I blinked hard, trying to force the tears back. My throat was burning, and there was a great weight on my chest, like a stone was placed upon it.

I didn't know where I was walking to. I just kept going, my feet carrying me mechanically.

I picked my phone, and looked at the call logs, No missed calls or Even Messages. I laughed mockingly. “What were you expecting, Sara?” 

Then I saw my friend’s number, Lisa. I looked at it then dropped my fingers again,

The last thing I felt like doing was talking to anyone, voicing the words out loud. But the pain came again, sharp and unbelievable, and I pressed the call.

"Hello?" My voice came out weak and shaky.

"Sara? Oh my god, what happened? Are you okay?" Lisa's voice was frantic, filled with concern.

The sound of her care undid me completely.

I broke down, the words spilling out between sobs. "He… he cheated, Lisa. He's been cheating on me for a year. A whole year. And now he's marrying her. He's… he's marrying her!"

“You mean David cheated?! What?!" Lisa's voice rose sharply, filled with incredulity and anger. "That son of a bitch! I swear to god, Sara, I'm going to kill him. I'm going to rip him apart with my bare hands!"

I let out a watery laugh, but it turned into another sob.

"He said I was boring," I whispered, the tears making my voice shake. "He said I didn't excite him. That I wasn't enough."

"Don't you dare listen to him," Lisa said, brusque. "He's a piece of garbage, Sara. You're better than him. You're worth a thousand of him. He doesn't deserve you.".

Her voice was soft, but not soft enough to penetrate the well of pain deep in my chest.

"I thought he loved me," I whispered.

Lisa sighed, frustrated behind the sound. "Men like him don't know what love is. He isn't worth your tears, Sara. Or anything from you." 

I swallowed. My eyes blur again m.

"Listen to me," Lisa went on, her voice had gone soft. "You have to get out of here. Get out of everything. Go someplace where you can breathe and just…just be. Don't let him wreck you."

I sniffled, swiped at my face with my sleeve. "Where am I supposed to go?"

"Go on the trip," she said, firm. "Go to the Maldives. Enjoy the vacation, even if it's by yourself. You don't need him to have a good time."

I faltered. The thought of sitting alone amongst happy couples and honeymooners made my chest tighten. "I don't know, Lisa. I feel like I'll just sit there and think about him."

"Or," she said, "you'll sit there and realize how much better off you are without him. You'll remember what it feels like to live for yourself. Sara, you deserve that."

Her words sliced through the air, through the haze of my grief.

Maybe she was right. Maybe I did need to get away, escape this city and its memories.

I took a deep breath, the cold of the air biting against my lungs. "Alright," I whispered. "I'll go."

"Good," Lisa said, her voice tight. "Book your flight. Pack your bags. And promise me you won't let him steal another moment of your happiness."

I nodded, though she could not see me. "I promise.".

I hung up and immediately reached for my phone to cancel our trip, which I had booked for David and me. The Maldives, where we were to begin life together. Now it's all mine.

A few frantic taps later, there was a flight to my destination in three hours. 

How my heartbeat quickened once I confirmed it—it has sunk in now.

It's happening, and I am leaving.

I flagged down a taxi, my suitcase heavy in my hand.

"To the airport," I said, my voice stronger now.

The driver nodded and pulled the car away from the curb. As the city lights began to blur past the window, the faintest flicker of hope was stirred in me.

This trip may not fix everything, and may

be the pain will still be that acute, aching sore.

I was, at least, in motion. Only if I knew this trip will be filled with the unexpected.