The Runaway Groom's Regrets: Winning Back my Ex-Bride

_Lynette’s Point Of View_

“Come on, Jessy, be real and tell me what you think about this one,” I said sternly to my best friend, pushing the phone farther away from my body so that she could have a full view of the bright red lingerie set I had on.

She huffed, dropping the sack of pretzels she had in her hand before she responded. “It’s good, Lynnette. You look really hot. Remind me why you’re playing dress up again?”

I smiled at her question, trailing the tiny hand of the bra as my mind wandered to my boyfriend, sorry, my fiancé, Victor.

“I find it so hard to get Victor’s attention these days, so I figured I should put in a little more effort to make myself more appealing,” I replied a little sadly over the FaceTime.

Jessy’s expression changed, and I knew that she was about to say something along the lines of… “Lynn, you’re absolutely beautiful the way you are, and you shouldn’t have to work to make a man see it,” she said.

Ah, yes, there it was.

I laughed, shaking my head. “You wouldn’t understand, Jess, and I say that with no offense intended.” I watched her mouth an ouch, but I continued regardless. “Victor and I are practically married at this point considering how long we’ve known each other, so it makes sense that he wouldn’t find me as attractive as before. If I have to put in a little effort to spice things up, then I will.”

I could admit that of late, it took more than just a little effort to get Victor out of his shell. We barely saw each other, never went out anymore, and I didn’t even want to get started on how starved I was sexually, but I knew that Victor still loved me as much as he said he did on the day he proposed to me.

Work was just more hectic for him now, and that was it. I refused to believe that it was anything else.

A tiny voice at the back of my head told me that I was lying because I and Victor worked in the same company, so I knew just how “hectic” work was.

“If you say so, then,” Jessy shrugged. “I’ve got to go, but we’ll talk soon, babes.”

I kissed her goodbye before ending the FaceTime, and I quickly threw my gown over the equally sexy lingerie I had chosen.

Today wasn’t any really special day, but after my persistent pleadings and requests, Victor finally agreed for us to go out on a date.

In the past, flowers and dates were never a problem. Victor was the perfect partner, soft in all the right ways, but all that seemed to change since he put his ring on my finger.

Thinking of what this meant, a scary thought formed. What if… No. I shook every ill thought to the back of my head.

With all that I had planned for today, Victor would have no choice but to touch me like he used to.

After one final swipe of my lipstick, I strutted outside in my heeled sandals to where Victor’s Ford was parked.

My dress would have looked so much better if I paired it with a six-inch heel, but I couldn’t wear those since they made me almost as tall as Victor, and he didn’t like that.

“Hey, baby,” I said smiling as I got into the car, almost lost in how handsome he looked even though he wasn’t smiling back. I ignored the fact that he didn’t come over to open the door for me. “How was work today?”

I had closed a little earlier than him.

Victor grunted an unintelligible response to my question, and again, I swallowed down the bitter taste in my mouth. He stared at me blankly, and I almost smiled at the thought that my plan was working.

“Is that red lipstick you have on?” He asked with an irritated huff, and as he spoke, the stench of alcohol forced its way up my nostrils.

My mood dampened. “It is, Victor. Have you been drinking again?”

“Don’t question me, Lynnette,” he snapped, tightening his grip on the steering, startling me. “You wanted a date, you’ve got a date. Don’t think you can control the rest of it. And I hope you’ve got your purse packed. Because I’m not spending my hard-earned money to feed your hungry stomach.”

His teeth were clenched, and angry veins bulged from his forehead.

“Is that all this is to you? Huh?” My anger got the best of me. “I don’t understand what’s with you anymore. You used to be head over heels for me. Why do you act like you’re fed up with me now?” I asked on a shaky exhale, on the brink of tears.

“Maybe I am,” Victor deadpanned, and a shocked gasp escaped my parted lips. “Listen, Lynnette,” he said, his voice suddenly calmer. “You’re a nice girl, but you’re just not the one for me anymore.”

Knowing where the conversation was heading, I turned my head to the back of the car because I’d rather not be looking him in the eyes when he broke up with me.

In fact, I wasn’t going to allow it.

As I turned, my eyes fell on a transparent nylon right on the back seat of his car. Looking for anything at all to do with my trembling hands, I reached out for the nylon, thinking it was dirt, only to find out upon closer look that it was…

“What the hell, Victor,” I screamed.

It was a condom. Used, and lying around for anyone to see. This couldn’t be happening.

“Did you let someone in your car?” I asked, hoping that it was one of his friends, but deep down in my pounding heart, I already knew what this was.

Victor cheated on me, and he wanted me to see it with my eyes. He knew that cheating was the one thing I didn’t forgive.

“What are you talking about? Why would I let someone in my car?”

“What’s this then?”

He tilted his head to the back, and even after seeing what I just saw, his answer was as lazy as his poise. “I’m guessing it’s what it is.”

“Who owns it?” I balked, feeling my heart break into a million freaking pieces.

Victor heaved a bored sigh. “Maybe it’s ours.”

“You know fully well it isn’t, Victor. I can’t even recall the last time you kissed me.”

His head snapped to mine, and I flinched.

“Fine,” he gritted. “You know what this is, Lynnette. I was with someone else, and do you want to know something?” He sneered. “I don’t think I feel bad about it.”

A choked laughing sob escaped my lips, and I angrily forced it down, because Victor didn’t deserve my tears.

“Fine then. I guess it’s settled,” I said, voicing out the end of our relationship.

Pushing the door open without waiting for a response, not that there would be any from how relieved Victor looked, I sniffed my tears back. I wouldn’t let them fall.

I needed a drink to mourn the loss of my eight-year relationship.

Scrap that.

I needed the bottle.