You are Screwed, Ex-Husband!

Chapter 1

Emily Monroe

“Pick the phone, please, Josh,” My fingers tapped subconsciously against the table, while holding my phone with my right hand, my eyes glued to the screen as I dialed his number again. For the seventeenth time, actually.

And yet again, the call rang until it ended with a beep, a dead silence playing after word. He didn't answer his phone.

My heart raced, thumping hard against my ribcage, and with every single thump louder and heavier than the previous one.

It was our third anniversary today, and here I was, waiting in the middle of the night for my husband to come home to me, yet there was no sign of him, and worse still, he wasn't taking my calls.

My eyes dropped to the gold-plated Rolex wrist watch lying neatly inside the gift box on the table. Beside it were the delicacies I had taken my time to make. His favourite meals which were now cold and untouched after hours. And finally, a bouquet of his favourite flowers. I had been looking forward to this day for months now.

My eyes darted to the wall clock in the dining room.

It was 23:58. 

Just two minutes to midnight. Two minutes until our anniversary would be over, and he wasn't still home, neither was he taking my calls. I had poured my heart, time, and emotions into this, but sadly, there was no sign of my husband.

Even as sad as this was, I wasn't concerned about the anniversary anymore, instead, I worried if he was safe. Yes, he does keep late nights sometimes which he would always blame on work, but never has he returned home to me at midnight.

I didn't give up calling, so I dialled his number again with little to no hope of him picking up. However, relief surged through me when the ringing stopped once it connected. I quickly pressed the phone to my ear.

“Josh… Honey, are you alright? Where are you? Why aren't you home yet? I've been worried sick about you,” My voice came out in a rush, my words almost colliding with one another. I forgot to breathe for a few seconds, desperately waiting to hear his voice.

However, the voice I heard in the background left me frozen on the chair, and my heart shattering into shreds.

“Fuck! You are so good! Please fuck me harder,” A woman's voice sounded breathlessly in the background, followed by a familiar masculine voice which I would always recognise even in a deep sleep.

“Fuck it, Erica! Ugh!” 

My grip around the phone loosened, almost slipping off my hand as my heart stopped beating at once, but it only lasted for a split second before it started beating again, but this time, it came with a hard thump like it was fighting for an escape, or about to explode.

“I love you, Erica!” His voice came on again, filled with excitement.

“No…” My voice came out barely audible. I wanted to deny it even though it was very obvious. It wasn't him. It couldn't be my Josh. There must be a mix-up somewhere.

I lied to myself, but it was really him.

Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the table in front of me. The date I'd worked hard, spent hours preparing… the flowers, the food, the gift. It was all a joke. I was only making a fool of myself.

My gaze dropped down to myself, to the red lace lingerie I had bought especially for tonight. It clung to my body in all the way I knew he'd love. My blonde hair, loose and cascading down my shoulders all the way to my waistline, just the way he loved it. 

I scoffed, throwing my head back and swallowing nothing.

I glanced at my phone with tears pouring down my cheeks, and my reflection in the black screen of my phone, staring right back at me. My mascara was smudged, my eyes were red and puffy. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to turn into. It wasn't supposed to end like this. I had pictured a romantic night where we would be on the bed, talk about our lives, and make sweet love while melting in each other's arms. I hadn't pictured this ending.

“This is not true,” I whispered, refusing to believe this. 

With trembling fingers and racing heart, I dialled Josh's number one more time. This time, the call was answered after ringing for barely five seconds. But it wasn't Josh.

“Isn't it obvious that Josh doesn't want to talk to you? My goodness! What kind of desperate woman calls a man this much? Why don't you get a life instead?” 

Her voice was sharp. Laced with disdain.

Erica.

I didn't need anyone to tell me who she was. I already knew. I had seen her picture once years ago shortly after we got married. Josh had told me that she was his ex-girlfriend. Someone from his past, whom he claimed to have broken up with and left in his past where she belonged.

The call ended with a beep, yet those words replayed in my mind over and over again, each one leaving my heart wrenching painfully.

With the little strength left in me, I dragged myself to the couch, throwing my heavy weight on it. The air felt dense, leaving my breathing difficult.

I stayed there motionless, staring blankly at the center table as the heavy weight of reality sank in. My hope for a perfect marriage all crumbled right before my eyes.

I didn't know when I felt asleep and how long I was asleep for, but I was jolted awake by the sound of the front door creaking open and the reverberating laughter of Josh followed.

The morning light penetrated through the window as I gently rubbed and forced my eyes open.

I turned my head, and there was Josh, walking into the living room with her. Erica Jones, looking the same as when I saw her in his photograph.

She clung to his arm dominantly as though she owned him.

Apparently, she does own him.

Josh didn't spare me a glance. He didn't look remorseful about his action. It was as though I didn't even exist at that moment.

My heart thumped hard against my ribcage, my lips quivered, and my chest contracted as disgust surged through me. It wasn't for Josh, but myself.

I resented myself for being stupid all this while. For not seeing the signs. Or maybe it had been there all along but I chose to ignore it. For giving myself away blindly all in the name of love.

Slowly, I stood up from the couch and turned to face them.

'Confront him, Emily'

Said a part of me, but I dismissed that crazy thought immediately. 

What was the point of doing that? Was he worth that stress?

No. He wasn't.

I could barely hold my balance, my legs trembling beneath me as I turned and made my way into one of the bedrooms in the house to freshen up. Any other room that was not the room I shared with Josh. Besides, he would need the room for himself and his mistress.

I scoffed under my breath when I walked inside the room from the bathroom later and was welcomed by their reverberating laughter from outside.

“That bastard!” I cursed, almost silently.

Halting my steps just before the bed, I picked up my phone and unlocked it, searching for a contact. Xavier Louise. My cousin and lawyer whom I haven't spoken with in two years.

“Emily?” His surprised voice sounded through the phone as soon as the call connect

ed. “Is that really you?” 

“Prepare a divorce agreement for me, Xavier,” I spoke on the phone…