Chapter 2: Guilt And Liberation

Elodie

Now, here I am again… back at this monster’s home. My head is buried beside my neck.

Words that cannot be uttered remain in my mind, pounding my heart as a pestle does to a mortar.

Loud music fills the air, but somehow, it is no match for the voices screaming in my mind.

I sit in the farthest corner, nursing down my third glass of tequila to dull the pain.

I haven’t say a word. I just keep hearing the same three words over and over again:

“Saviour… Pregnant…Married.”

“Saviour…Pregnant... Married.” I keep on repeating the same thing.

What do they take me for?

A stinking, barren bitch?

Really?

I let out a deep breath. I shouldn't be drinking.

Not after how badly it embarrassed me the last time, four years ago.

He saved me that night… and wh..what did he make of it?

He strips me of dignity and ruins me again.

How could it be so easy for him to be done with me?

Just like that.

After three good years of my life?

Mason used to be my safe place. My last resort, my only constant.

What changed?

And all the while, he was cheating on me with my own step sister of all women?

Pretending to love me?

“This is madness…” I mutter, tilting my head back and emptying the glass in one go.

“Fuck love.” I close my eyes, trying to resist the tears burning their way up.

He alreay divorced me, just as if I was nothing.

Maybe I am nothing.

Maybe he was right.

My mother, just a mistress to the Fontain's. If only she didn't mix business with pleasure, perhaps I wouldn't be caught in this long and shameful situation.

“Ouch…” I wince, my fingers gliding against the puffiness under my swollen eyes.

Everything hurts.

“I'm never falling in love again.” I mumble. “It always ends in a dead zone.”

Barely three weeks ago, he leaves for a business trip. Says he'll be back today.

What did he do instead?

He turns our anniversary into an eviction.

And the food I spend hours preparing?

It is used to celebrate my loss. “Wow.”

So they've been entangled all this while?

I blink rapidly, fighting the fresh sting of tears.

There's no point holding on to a man who lets his mother insult me to my face– who has long since killed my joy.

“Where's my drink?” I snap at the bartender.

My red, swollen eyes scan the room. Strangers clinking glasses, laughter, music, everything I feel disconnected from.

“Tequila and more vodka for table six,” the bartender says, placing the drinks in front of me.

I take a shot. The burn crawls down my throat . “I'm back here again. A very long and stressful ride indeed.”

My head drops.

“Another?” the bartender asks.

I give a numb nod.

...

“Do you mind if I share the table with you?” A deep, velvet voice brushes past my ears.

My eyes snap open, and I lift my head, expecting the bartender but it's him.

Not the bartender.

Him.

Too handsome to be real. His lush brown hair, tousles in the air. This is a kind of face that only appears in dreams.

A rush of dopamine swirls through my bloodstream.

No. This is alcohol.

Get hold of it, Elodie. He’s no different from the rest.

Life ruiners.

“You don't belong here,” his voice cuts through, firm yet smooth and silk. “I've been watching you from across my table.”

I let out a dry chuckle. “And you do?”

He rolls his eyes and moves a seat closer—stumbles a little .

“But I'm not the one drinking tequila like it's water.” he quips.

“You are clearly inebriated,” I shoot back. “I saw that miss-step. You've had just as much.”

He shrugs . “Maybe I'm just trying to forget.”

“Does it work?”

“No,” he says, locking eyes with mine. “But it numbs the part I want to silence.”

Something about the way he speaks… magnetic.

Maybe we're both just two lost souls… drifting.

“My fiancee broke up with me today,” he says suddenly. “Right before I could show her the ring.”

I wince, lifting my glass again. “Poor thing.”

I gulp. “My husband replaced me with my step sister today too.”

He inhales sharply.

“I thought my story is bad…” He chuckles. “But yours? Yours is worse.”

My lips curl into a bitter smile… and then, it falters.

The night went on. I could barely pay attention to what he is saying, just admiring the handsome shade in front of me.

An hour later, we stumble up the hallway and stop at room 135. I don't remember saying yes, but I didn't say no either.

I need to forget.

He slides in the key card and pushes the door open. I walk in first, collapsing on the bed, my body heavy and soaks in exhaustion.

He follows, locking the door behind him.

We both lay there in silence, side by side, catching our breath and staring at the ceiling as if waiting for something unspoken to break the stillness.

I turn my head slightly, stealing a glance.

Without a word, he shifts closer and brushes a strand of hair from my face.

“You're so beautiful.” He murmurs, and lightly caresses my cheek.

My skin tingles beneath his touch

What is wrong with me?

******

The insistent ringing of my alarm drags me back to consciousness.

Groggily, I open my eyes and blink against the light, and reach out for my phone.

But then it hit me.

This isn't my room.

My eyes widens. Oh my God!

This room looks nothing familiar…

I sit up immediately to see some clothes scattered on the floor.

I yank the duvet off my body with disgust and froze. “What?”

I'm naked!

My heart sinks to my stomach, I quickly pull the duvet up to my chest, clutching it like it would wash away the regrets already welling up.

A sharp wave of pain knocks through my head, and then, the memories came flooding in.

The bar.

The man.

The hallway.

His body pressing into mine.

I recall him rising and falling above me repeatedly.

“Oh my gosh,” I mumbles, my lips trembling. “What have I done?”

I can't even remember his blurred face, not even his name. Our conversation just flows easily, two strangers finding solace in each other's chaos.

A cold knot settles deep in my stomach, but deeper than that, shame cloth me.

And God help me…he had done it so well.

The sound of splashing water pulled me back.

My gaze drifts towards the bathroom.

He's in there.

Panic tightens in my chest.

I can't face him. Not like this.

Not in the daylight.

I scramble off the bed, wincing as I search for my clothes. My hands shook as I got dress in silence.

Then I spot a thick wad of cash inside the drawer. Without thinking, I slip out a few bills with trembling hands.

“This will be enough for my transport.” I whisper.

My heart races as I tiptoes to the door and looks behind with my racing pulse, my eyes refusing to meet whoever is in there.

"Thanks for... last night," I say to the thin air and turn the knob.

“Wait…”