Chapter 1
Leah
On our third-year anniversary, I found my husband having sex with Pearl, his secretary from work, in our bedroom.
The surprise cake I had been carrying fell to the ground with a loud crash, splattering everywhere as I stood there too stunned to move. The noise startled the people on the bed.
In a fit of rage, I crossed the bedroom over to Noah. “Noah, how could you do this to me?”
He didn't respond. Reaching out for Pearl, I dragged her out of the bed.
“Get out of my house!” I said.
“Stop! You're hurting me!” she cried. “Noah, help! This woman has gone mad!”
Noah sprinted into action, trying to release my grip on her. “Pearl, let her go.”
“I won't!”
Before I could process what was happening, his hands landed heavily across my cheeks so hard that I stumbled backward and lost my hold on Pearl.
Pressing my hands against my reddened cheeks, I asked, “Do you even know what today is? It's our third-year wedding anniversary!”
“Stop lying, Leah. It's still six months away.” He countered. “Did you have to make up such a lie as an excuse for your mad behavior?”
“Did you just call me mad?”
Rather than answering me, Noah turned his attention to Pearl. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
She shook her head. “There's a minor bruise on my elbow, but aside from that, I'm fine.”
I slammed the door and left, heading into the street, hailed a cab, and slipped into the backseat.
“Where to, miss?” the driver asked.
I paused to think because, except for Joshua's house, a mutual high school classmate of Noah and me, I had nowhere else to go.
“To 7 Lane Street.”
The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror. “That's a pretty nasty mark on your face, Miss. Shouldn't you get that treated?”
“No need.”
As the driver took off, for some reason, I couldn't help remembering the first time I ever met Noah. Back in high school, Noah was Mr. Popular and the school's ace basketball player while I had been on the cheerleading team.
Just like every other teenage girl, I had a huge crush on him but never confessed, afraid of being rejected. As if fate was trying to pull us together, we reunited after graduating from college and started dating.
Noah had treated me like a princess: remembering every dating anniversary and buying me gifts. He never failed to constantly remind me that he loved me and was happy I was in his life.
Then one day, he called me over to his house. After dinner, Noah sank low to his knees and pulled out a small box.
“I can't imagine my life without you, Leah,” he confessed, teary-eyed. “I've also never loved anyone the way I love you. Will you make me the happiest man on earth and be my wife? Will you marry me, Leah?”
I nodded, “I will.”
Slipping the ring on my finger, Noah and I made hot, passionate love that night. With excitement bubbling inside me, I looked forward to the next phase of our lives together as a family. But shortly after getting married, he had started coming home late and drunk.
Running towards Noah, I helped him inside. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah. The company dinner ended late tonight,” he said, embracing me. “I won't come home drunk tomorrow. I promise.”
Those were his words. Noah always kept whatever promises he made to me, so I took his words to heart that this was just a one-time thing, but it wasn't.
For five consecutive days, he kept coming home drunk again.
“Noah, if you can't handle drinking, why don't you tell your boss?” I asked.
Pushing me aside, his eyes turned bloodshot red. “Do you want me to get fired? The only reason I'm putting up with all of this is that you can't get a job and support this home! All the pressure is on me!”
Those words stung. No matter how many times I tried to tell myself that Noah had said those words because he wasn't thinking clearly, I knew a part of him meant what he had said.
This happened yesterday. But today, when Noah was sober, he apologized for his mistake before going to work, and I softened for the sake of today being our third-year wedding anniversary, but he had repaid the chance I gave him with a slap against my cheeks, and this was going to be the last time.
The cab came to a stop at the location I had given the driver. After paying the fare, I climbed down, heading up the front lawn and knocking on the front door.
“I'm coming!” a voice yelled from inside.
The door was forcefully thrown open from inside as Jonathan appeared, standing by the doorway with a bottle of Coke in his hands, clearly surprised to see me at his doorstep unannounced.
“Leah, what are you doing here?” he asked, rambling on. “Shouldn't you be at home preparing a surprise for your third-year wedding anniversary with Noah?”
A soft laugh escaped my lips. Even Joshua knew what today was, yet my own husband, the same man who once used to worship me, didn't.
“I...” My voice cracked, tears rolling down my cheeks as there was no possible way to tell Joshua that I had found my husband in bed with another woman in our marital home.
“Joshua, I...”
He pulled me into his arms, embracing me. “Everything is going to be okay, Leah. Come in first.”
Helping me inside, Joshua led me to the living room couch. Then he crossed over to the kitchen to prepare a cup of black coffee for me.
“Here, drink,” he said, handing over the mug to me.
I accepted it and emptied the cup in one sip.
“Can you tell me what happened now?” he asked.
Swallowing hard, I told him everything.
“That bastard!” Joshua cursed under his breath. “It's okay, Leah. You can stay here for as long as you need to. I won't tell Noah.”
“Thank you, Josh.”
The doorbell rang at the entrance.
“That must be our food,” Joshua said, standing to his feet. “I'll go get it.”
From the living room, I heard the front door open.
“What are you doing here, asshole?” Joshua demanded, his voice rough.
“I'm here to see my wife, and don't give me that bullshit that she isn't here!” Noah's familiar voice replied.