Chapter 3 - Find Your Boyfriend

RACHEL

“Calm down, Rachel,” Jeremy muttered. Then he held her hand and, with a smile, introduced, “Meet Clara. My girlfriend. She’ll be staying with us henceforth.”

“What?!” I spurted out, my eyes moving between them. “You’re joking, right?” I sneered. “Is this some sort of prank?”

Jeremy was crazy. Yeah… he could be crazy and excessive most of the time, but I didn’t think he could pull off something as outrageous as this. No way. No fucking way.

“No, Rachel. She’s my girlfriend. You know her already. There’s no need for a deep introduction,” he explained, nonchalant and expressionless. There wasn’t an ounce of guilt or fear in his eyes. Damn!

“You brought this bitch into our house? The same girl you’re cheating with?” My voice trailed off at the last part. I was still yet to shake off the shock. There was no way my life was flashing before my eyes. I never believed there would be a day when my man would freely bring another woman into our house and introduce her to me as his girlfriend.

“Point of correction, Rachel, I didn’t cheat. This is an open marriage… remember?”

“I haven’t agreed to it, dude.”

“But your agreement or disagreement means nothing. I didn’t inform you about the change because I needed your opinion,” he revealed. “I just wanted you to be informed.”

My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes. One blink, and they would roll down unrestrained. My breath hitched, and my chest heaved up and down as I struggled to stabilize my emotions. I could pass out. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to humiliate myself in front of them.

My gaze moved to the woman beside him, and she smiled… the kind of smile that told you she was victorious. Then I remembered her threat at the reunion. She told me I would regret touching her… and I really did regret it.

Without saying another word, I snatched my phone from the table and stormed out of the house. I didn’t drive my car. I just ran. I kept running as if that would erase my problems, like it would heal my bleeding heart and strengthen my weakened legs. I let the tears roll down my face as I ran. It felt like thousands of needles were piercing my heart at once. I was horrible, miserable, and helpless.

Maybe I should have given up on him the first time he cheated. Maybe I shouldn’t have given him another chance when he asked for it the second time. Would I have been able to uphold his respect for me? Now, it seemed like I’d lost everything.

⸻

The frantic noise in the club was incomparable to the turmoil and turbulence within me. The burning taste of alcohol in my throat did nothing to melt the bile clogging it. Instead, it mocked me. Mocked me for enduring. For believing marriage was all about patience and forgiveness.

I scoffed, twirling the glass in my hand as I stared at the dark liquid in it. I couldn’t even get as drunk as I wanted. I couldn’t even waste myself enough to evade the reality poking at me. Nothing agreed with me. It was as if the world was against me and blaming me for the turn of events.

“I want another glass of this.” I gestured with a raise of the glass. “Or can I get the bottle instead?”

The bartender’s eyes glinted with something like shock, but the practiced smile on his lips didn’t fade. His lips pressed into a thin, fake smile as he leaned forward. “I don’t think you’ll be able to handle the effect of finishing a bottle of this, my lady.” His tone was calm, laced with worry, but I knew it wasn’t because he truly cared. Maybe he just didn’t want a bad record of making a customer drink herself to death.

I snorted. “That’s not your place to worry about. All you should care about is your payment,” I slurred, swaying in my seat.

He didn’t bother to retort after my response. He spun around and returned with a bottle of wine with EverClear boldly written on it. “Enjoy, my lady,” he mumbled with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes before continuing with his work.

I poured myself some, making sure to fill the glass to the brim. Just as I was about to take a gulp, a huge hand snatched it from me, some of the liquid spilling onto my body.

I was frustrated. Not like I wasn’t frustrated already, but it intensified.

I tilted my head, only to meet a pair of eyes that shone brightly under the colorful rays of the club, paired with a smile that melted me on the spot. The sight of whoever this was made me forget my dilemma for a heartbeat, and for a second, I thought maybe he was the one I needed tonight. Maybe he was the only one who could help me erase the heart-wrenching memories I carried.

“You’re the first person I’ve seen trying to kill herself with alcohol,” he mumbled, sipping some of it. “You do know its alcohol percentage is above ninety, right? And a sip is enough to knock you out, but you’ve taken more than two glasses, and what now? A bottle?”

I hissed, definitely not having it. “Who are you? A babysitter? Oh! I’m an adult, so it’s an adult-sitter.” I leaned forward shakily. The wine was already starting to control me. “Or a stalker?”

His face reddened at my allegations. He stared at me for a few seconds, snickered, and poked my forehead lightly. “No. Just someone who cares.”

“Oh!” I nodded, shutting and opening my eyes. “Seems your niche is caring for strangers.” I clapped lazily. “You’ve got a great niche, I must say.”

“So, mind sharing what’s making a woman gulp so much alcohol like it’s water?” He placed the glass on the table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on it.

My teeth clenched. I chuckled, mocking myself before I spoke. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was because I’d suppressed so many emotions. I didn’t struggle with the thought of opening up to him.

“It’s my husband,” I spoke up.

“Oh! You’re married?” His brows knitted as he raised his gaze slightly.

I lifted my hand toward his face. “There’s a wedding band here.”

“So what has he done? Cheated on you?” He redirected the conversation as if he was afraid the topic might shift. There was an edge to his tone, though I wasn’t in the mood to decipher it.

“Many times,” I responded, my voice shaking with pain and brokenness. Finally, I was allowing myself to sink into it. To feel the pain and betrayal. “But I never complained. I thought he just wanted to satisfy his fantasies and would realize there was nothing to gain there after all, but I didn’t expect him to return with one of them today and propose an open marriage.”

He didn’t react. He just stared, unblinking, as if he was still trying to process my words.

Then he scoffed, lowering his head. He mumbled, “Your husband is a dick.”

“Right,” I said affirmatively.

“So you think the solution to a cheating husband is drinking yourself to death?” His head shot up. There was a mixture of sympathy and anger in his tone.

“What else can a coward do?” I said calmly, surrendering myself to fate. “The fear of what the world would say didn’t let me leave when things were still dignified. And now? You don’t want to imagine what will go through everyone’s minds…”

“I dislike women who live for others instead of themselves. They shouldn’t be pitied or helped,” he uttered, menace lacing his tone, causing me to meet his gaze. It was sharp. Sharp and judgmental, and at that instant, my blood boiled.

Biting my lower lip, I scoffed. “And who do you think you are to judge me?”

“Somebody who knows picking yourself—”

“You know nothing, mister,” I interrupted him, my voice rising in exasperation. Who the hell did he think he was to judge me? “You know nothing about me, so keep your shitty judgment to yourself.”

I expected him to flare up at my outburst. To either walk away or yell back. But he did none of that. Instead, he giggled briefly, and that only increased my anger. He was mocking me. Indirectly calling me a fool.

He raised both hands. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he admitted. “I apologize for it.”

I glanced away without giving him an answer.

But he didn’t give up or walk away like I’d assumed. I heard his voice again. “So… to make up for my offense, I’ll offer a suggestion on how to handle this situation without drinking yourself to death.”

That got my attention faster than anything else in the world. I shifted my gaze back to him. He noticed the swiftness and let out a few bubbles of laughter. But I didn’t laugh back because there was obviously nothing funny.

“How about you agree to his request and get your own boyfriend?” he said.

My face scrunched up as I tried to comprehend what he had just said. “What… what boyfriend? What request?”

“Agree to the open marriage and find a boyfriend too,” he clarified.

It felt like a slap across my face.

“Are you mad?!” I yelled.