Chapter 2

Sandra's pov

I picked up my phone, 20 missed calls and 10 messages in the last half hour, my heart prickled and I tossed the phone on the bed. The door creaked open, and Margaret, my former foster mother, came through. 

 It had been a week since Lucas showed me his true colors, I hadn't returned to our house, George had offered for me to come to his home and I was in no state of mind to refuse. 

Margaret brought two slices of chocolate cake, and I sighed softly as memories flooded my mind.

“You remembered,” I said almost absent-mindedly, drawing invisible circles on the bed sheet. She came over wearing a tender expression.

“How could I forget?” She sat next to me, “You always had an extra stomach for chocolate cake no matter how full you were, I was hoping that I could bribe you into eating something,” 

 I stared at the homemade chocolate cake, then slowly stretched my hand forward to pick up one of them and bite into it ignoring the fork.

“It tastes good,” I said, trying not to cry. I hadn't cried since I was five from that young age. I knew that shedding tears changed nothing because even after days of wailing, the sorry excuse for a sperm donor never showed up.

 I placed my foot on the bed, wrapping my hands around it.

 “Men are such garbage, Magret…” I said my voice faltering, “They make you feel safe and happy, then they yank it all away in the blink of an eye like you never meant anything to them!” 

I thought Magret would understand immediately, especially after her last marriage. Instead, she said; “Not all men, dear, some–” 

 “I don't want to hear it, I'm not giving another man a chance at my heart ever again,” I said determinedly.

“Never say never, Sandy…” George appeared, a hand buried in his left pocket, “You never know, maybe there’s someone out there for you,” He tried to convince me.

 I shook my head taking another obligatory bite of cake, “Doubt it,” 

His brows furrowed; “You might regret it if you–”

“George, that's enough for now. She's not even divorced yet,” Magret tried to caution her son. I sighed tiredly, thinking of the divorce papers. They were in my wardrobe. I had only looked at them once since the lawyer brought them and haven't had the stomach to glance at them again.

George had gotten fussy, asking to know when I'd throw the papers at Lucas, I guess I had already delayed it enough.

 “George, can you give me a ride?” 

“Sure. Where to?”

His smile evaporated as I replied that I'd be heading over to the mansion.

“What if you run into your ex there?” 

My chest clenched just thinking, “I can't avoid him forever, but even if we happen to run into each other I'll just ignore him.”

 Margaret and George both looked doubtful and I couldn't blame them. I had loved that man with every fiber of my being, out of my many pursuers he was the only one I gave a chance.

 All for him to humiliate me in the end.

 I could just imagine how it would soon flood through social media when our separation became public, and bring smiles to the faces of my haters and critics.

 Nevertheless, it had to be done.

A tide of emotions struck me from the gates of the mansion alone, and by the time my feet had reached the front door, each step had my head throbbing, and my legs wobbled pathetically. I hated this, hated that he still had this effect on me, so before I stepped into the house I straightened my back and pulled my chin up. George was reassuring me that he could help me pack up my things. 

 “George, I appreciate the thought but…I need to do this myself,” 

He finally agreed and stood outside waiting for me.

 I opened the front door and I was met with the overwhelming smell of alcohol hanging in the air, and at the center of it, surrounded by several bottles all emptied down to the last drop, was my soon-to-be ex-husband.

 Seeing him like this reminded me of my foster father, how his skin would grow and his whole being seemed to have been sucked out of him every time he got intoxicated, Lucas looked exactly like that and somehow even worse. 

 Instinctively, I wanted to reach out to him; suddenly, all the anger that I felt towards him was battling with the pity that wrenched my heart. 

 Then that picture was ripped into shreds when I recalled how comfortable he looked in that bed after sleeping with a woman who made my stomach turn. During this week I'd had nightmares of their bodies entangled and heated, his expert fingers touching her in the same way he promised to touch only me.

 “Sandra…” he said getting up, “...baby, where have you been? I've…I've missed–” 

 I passed him like the wind, not even looking at him.

“I'm here for my things,” I said icily.

 He followed after me.

“Baby, listen to me…nothing happened between me and that woman,” he said, desperately chasing after me. 

“Whether or not anything happened between you and her is none of my business anymore, Mr Hudson.” While I was as calm as an undisturbed lake on the surface, beneath me was a troubled sea tossing back and forth with waves of emotion.

I wanted to turn around and yell at him to demand answers, to ask when he had stopped loving me and how he could betray me.

But I don't care anymore, knowing that he chose to betray me and toss away everything we've built out the window changed nothing. I wouldn't give him the chance to fill my head up with lies.

 I got

Up the stairs, then I heard a heavy thud, and my heart went up to my throat.