Chapter 2
It was Declan. He rushed over, looking anxious, his clothes completely drenched.
Declan shouted, "Claire, have you lost your mind? Sitting out here in the rain in the middle of the night?"
He tried to help me up, but I slapped his hand away.
I snapped, "Don't touch me!"
"Claire, can we talk this through?" he asked.
I sneered, "Talk about what? How good is Shelly in bed?"
His expression darkened. "You're drunk."
"I'm not drunk," I said, swaying to my feet. "Declan, let's get a divorce."
Declan's face instantly drained of color.
"Claire, what on earth are you saying?" he said.
"Divorce," I repeated, enunciating each word. "We're done."
"No way!" He seized my wrist tightly. "Claire, tonight was just a mistake—please, let me explain."
"A mistake?" I sneered. "A mistake that you two were getting intimate in my own house, with her wearing the nightgown I bought, on my sofa?"
Declan's lips parted, but no words came out.
"What's left to explain?" I pulled my hand free from his grasp. I said, "Declan, three years... I'm done."
The rain continued to fall, drenching us both.
Declan suddenly pulled me into a hug. "Claire, give me another chance. Please. I'll handle things with Shelly."
"Handle it?" I shoved him away. "How? Fire her? Or make her disappear?"
"I..." he faltered, his voice trailing off.
"Forget it." I turned to leave. "Declan, words once said can't be taken back, and what's done is done."
He chased after me and shouted, "Claire, you can't just walk away from me like this!"
I stopped in my tracks and looked back at him.
Even in the pouring rain, he remained devastatingly attractive.
Three years ago, I fell head over heels for that gorgeous face, believing I'd love him forever.
"Declan," I said, "do you know what I regret most in my life?"
He shook his head.
"I regret ever falling in love with you."
With those words, I walked away without looking back.
His desperate shout followed me through the rain. "Claire, you can't leave me!"
But I'd already made up my mind.
Three years of love, three years of devotion, three years of my youth. All gone to waste.
*****
I went back to my studio. It was a small apartment I'd bought before we got married. Declan had always wanted me to sell it, arguing why keep it since we had the manor.
Now I'm grateful that I didn't listen to him back then.
At least I had a place to stay.
I took a long, hot shower and changed into fresh clothes.
I stared at my reflection—a haggard woman with swollen, bloodshot eyes from crying.
I made myself a cup of coffee and sat by the window, staring out at the rainy night.
I'd turned my phone back on, but immediately blocked Declan's number.
There were dozens of messages waiting—every single one from him.
Declan: [Claire, please come home. Let's talk things over.]
Declan: [I'm so sorry. It's all my fault.]
Declan: [Please. Just give me one more chance.]
Declan: [Claire, I love you.]
The last one made me laugh bitterly.
"Love me? Really?" I sneered.
Would someone who loves me sleep with another woman?
Would someone who loves me let me see such a scene in my own home?
I deleted all the messages and blocked him.
The bitterness of the coffee lingered on my tongue, mirroring the bitterness inside me.
As dawn was approaching, I finally felt sleepy.
I lay in bed, eyes closed, but I still couldn't get that scene from tonight out of my head.
Shelly, wearing my nightgown, was entangled with Declan on my sofa.
She was so complacent and fearless.
Apparently, it wasn't the first time.
I recalled that in the past few months, Declan had often worked overtime and gone on business trips.
And how he'd grown increasingly distant toward me.
The signs had been there all along—I was just too silly, choosing to turn a blind eye.