Chapter 7

What if he’s here with that girl?

Normally, I wouldn’t entertain that thought for more than a second, but today it feels possible. He was out all morning with a random girl, ignoring everyone’s calls, and now he’s here at a time he’s never here.

My first instinct is to drive off and pretend I didn’t see him, go back to my parents’ and pretend I’m fine. But no, I can’t do that. Even though breaking up with Farrow is my biggest fear, I can’t just ignore this.

I want to ask what he did with that Violet girl all day. Maybe he had the same idea I did—to take a moment away from everyone and everything to calm down. That sounds more like us during a hard time.

But I know better. Deep down, I know this isn't just a coincidence. It’s not about taking a break.

"Farrow?" I call as soon as I walk in, but there’s no response. I wait a few seconds, then move through the house—no sign of him. I check the backyard. Nothing. The garage, which we never use except for storage. Still nothing.

He has to be upstairs, in our room. I brace myself, and yet, my mind races with the worst possible reasons why he’d be up there. What if he’s… I can’t even finish the thought.

I open the door and freeze. There’s no way this is real. Farrow is inside someone who is not me.

He’s still with her, and it feels like my whole world shatters in that moment. I can hear her moaning, the sounds of something so wrong, so foreign, and I can’t move. Farrow finally notices me, but he doesn’t stop. Not right away.

"Are you serious?" I manage to say, still frozen, still unable to process what’s happening. He looks at me with that pained expression I know too well, before reluctantly pulling away from her. He sits down, hands covering his face.

"Fuck," he spits out, clearly not knowing what to say. "You weren’t supposed to be here."

Weren’t supposed to be here? But he’s the one who wasn’t supposed to be fucking someone else in my bed.

I look at the woman, confused. She’s very pale, almost ghostly, with heavy makeup that doesn’t quite hide the fact she’s not exactly what Farrow described as "so, so pretty." Her eyes are outlined in dark shadow, lips smeared with red. She leans back on my bed, completely comfortable.

“I’m sorry, Skylar. Farrow said you’d be at your parents',” she says casually. "Should I explain, Farrow? Or are you going to?"

What the hell is there to explain? I focus on Farrow, keeping my voice steady despite the whirlwind of anger inside me. “Is this true?” I ask directly.

He looks at me, his eyes full of regret, before nodding. He doesn’t even try to deny it.

"Then leave," I say, calm and composed. I won’t fall apart in front of this stranger. I won’t let her think she’s won.

The girl opens her mouth, but Farrow raises a hand to silence her.

“This is my daughter’s home, not yours,” Farrow says quietly to her. I feel a chill at his words.

I stare at him. “Your daughter stays with me.”

Farrow hesitates, then says softly, "Take it with grace, Sky. I know you will."

I take a deep breath and start gathering my things, still feeling like I’m in some twisted dream. I’m not crying. I won’t. I have to focus, and I have to leave.

I’m not crying because it’s too ridiculous, too surreal. We’ve known each other for almost nineteen years, been together for fourteen, and have a thirteen-year-old daughter. This isn’t the man I married. The man I fell in love with is gone, and I don’t recognize him anymore.

Farrow enters the room as I’m packing, his voice gentle but filled with guilt. “I’m really sorry, Sky,” he says, and something inside me stops. That voice sounds like the Farrow I used to know.

“I know I fucked up,” he continues, looking down at the floor. “I should’ve told you first. I didn’t want you to see this, but I’m just… so into her, Sky. And there’s a reason, but I don’t know how to say it without hurting you. I would never want to hurt you like this.”

So instead of talking to me about it, he chose to fuck her in my bed. Right. Makes perfect sense.

“I’m not asking for explanations,” I say firmly, looking directly into his eyes. “But Bobbie is not staying here. Wherever I go, she goes.”

“No, no, I’ll leave,” he says quickly, almost pleading, but he stops himself from coming closer. “I don’t know why I thought you’d just leave, but no. Stay here with Bobbie. I’ll go. This is your house, Sky.”

For the first time, he’s making some sense, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m not staying here with that woman in my bed.

“Can you promise you won’t try to kick us out later?” I ask, needing to hear him say it.

He looks insulted, like he can’t believe I’d question him. “Of course I won’t, Sky. All I want is to be with her,” he says, pointing toward the woman.

I blink, disbelief still clouding my thoughts. “Then get your things and leave. I’ll be fine. We can talk about visitation with Bobbie and divorce later. It can be amicable.”

His face crumples. “Divorce?” he repeats, as if the word doesn’t make sense to him.