Addicted to the Rebel

Chapter 1

Nova

As I hurry across the parking lot, the afternoon sun beats down on me. It”s a hot September day, and beads of sweat are already forming along my hairline.

I”ve just come from another fruitless job interview, the third this week. Being a stay-at-home mom has left a significant gap in my resume, making it harder to re-enter the workforce, especially with my unwavering commitment to being there for Maya.

I”ve turned down several promising opportunities because the hours were too long.

Derek”s late nights at the office have become more frequent, leaving me to handle the daily pickups. It”s been happening so often that it”s now more of a routine than an exception.

An hour ago, he sent a message saying he couldn”t get Maya, even though he”d promised he would. Meaning I had to cancel another interview.

I tighten the knot, holding my unruly curls, and quicken my pace toward the elementary school.

My daughter Maya will be waiting for me, and I can”t bear the thought of her sweet face falling when I”m late to pick her up.

The air-conditioned building provides relief from the sweltering heat. The familiar sight of the daycare”s glass door reveals Maya, my five-year-old dynamo, swinging it open.

She squeals, “Mommy!” as her curly hair bounces and she crashes into my arms.

Maya”s exuberance brightens my day. The lines around my eyes crinkle with warmth and affection for my little girl.

“Hey, baby,” I say, smoothing her unruly hair like mine. “Did you have a good day?”

Maya nods eagerly, her green eyes shining as she recounts her day. “Miss Emma said I was the best finger painter in the whole class!”

When she gets going, she can talk a mile a minute. I listen contently, periodically injecting an “uh-huh” or “wow” to show I”m paying attention. My mind briefly drifts to Derek working late again.

At least I can always count on being here for Maya. Derek keeps pushing me to find a job, saying it”s for the little extras, but I believe she comes first.

And with him being so unreliable, it”s even more critical for me to be around for our daughter to provide the stability and consistency she needs.

“That”s amazing! This calls for a celebration. How about we go get some ice cream?”

“Yeah!” Maya cheers, pumping her fists in the air. Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I find myself smiling despite the tiredness creeping in.

Our stop at the local ice cream shop downtown is a blur of laughter and sticky fingers. Maya”s giggles fill the air as she devours her triple-scoop sundae.

Chocolate is smeared across her freckled cheeks, and I reach across the table to wipe a dab of ice cream from her nose with a wistful smile, savoring this fleeting moment of bliss.

Watching Maya, I think it might be time to give her a sibling. She”s getting older, and I”ve always pictured having at least two kids. The thought sends a spike of warmth through me.

Yes, I”ll talk to Derek about it tonight. But the thought is quickly followed by a pulse of hesitation.

It reminds me of the pain I endured when he had an affair during my pregnancy with Maya. The memory still stings, a dull ache that never quite disappears.

I push the doubt aside. I have to believe that we”re past that hurdle, that Derek”s indiscretion was a one-time mistake.

He”s proven his commitment to our family, and I trust that he won”t let me down again.

We”ve come so far since then and worked so hard to rebuild our relationship. Derek has been working a lot lately, but having another child will remind him of what truly matters and bring us closer.

We can handle anything as long as we keep our family at the center of it all. Yes, I”ll talk to Derek about it tonight.

With renewed determination, I gather Maya and head home, the taste of sweet ice cream lingering on our tongues and the promise of a brighter future in my mind.

However, our homecoming is far from the peaceful picture I had imagined. Pulling into our suburban neighborhood, I notice the living room curtains blowing in the breeze.

That”s odd. I don”t remember leaving the windows open.

A surreal sight greets me as I step inside. The living room is completely empty. No sofa, TV, or photos on the walls—only bare floors and outlets where the furniture used to be.

“What the—” I whisper, shock rooting me in place.

Maya peers around, her little face scrunching in confusion.

“Mama? Where are our couches?”

I smile reassuringly for her sake and squeeze her small hand tightly.

My heart pounds as I try to make sense of it all. When I call Derek”s number, it goes directly to his message bank.

Voicemail? That makes no sense—Derek always has his cell switched on during work hours.

A chill creeps up my spine as I usher Maya to stay close, then hurry upstairs. My heart pounds with growing dread as I reach the bedroom.

The closet doors swing open to reveal emptiness, the hangers swaying gently as if mocking me. All of Derek”s suits, his dress shirts, his favorite pair of loafers—everything is gone. It”s like he”s never lived here at all.

My hands are trembling when we return downstairs.

“Mama, I”m thirsty,” says Maya, lower lip poking out.

“Okay, baby,” I say distractedly, moving automatically to the cupboard.

I open it only to find it empty. I check the other cupboards, only to find the same. The bastard even took the crockery, silverware, and appliances.

Finding a chipped mug in the sink from this morning, I rinse it out and fill it with water for Maya.

A white envelope catches my eye on the counter. My name is scrawled across the front in Derek”s familiar handwriting.

With a sinking feeling, I pick it up, bracing myself as I tear it open and prepare for the worst.

I stare at the handwritten letter, the paper suddenly as heavy as lead in my shaking hands. My eyes dart across the page.

I”m sorry I had to do this, but I couldn”t keep living a lie. I”m not in love with you, Nova. I haven”t been for years, and I”ve been lying to you.

The words blur on the page as tears well in my eyes. A lie all these years?

“No, no, no,” I whisper.

This can”t be happening. Not again.

I never stopped seeing Emily, and she”s pregnant. I can”t keep doing this.

Emily.

The name hits me like a physical blow, knocking the wind from my lungs. Of course, it”s her—the woman he cheated on me with when I was pregnant with Maya.

The betrayal I thought we”d moved past, forgiven, and left behind, comes crashing back with brutal force.

I promise I”ll send you money so you can pay the mortgage, but I can”t be in your lives anymore. I”ll send the divorce paperwork shortly.

The letter falls from my grasp, fluttering to the floor as my knees buckle. The words come out in a strangled gasp. “How could you?”

I”ve been here before, drowning in the aftermath of his betrayal. The memory of it still haunts me, a wound that never quite healed.

And now, he”s done it again, shattering what little trust I had left.

I think of the countless nights I waited up for him, convincing myself that his late hours were for our family”s sake.

What a fool I”ve been, blinded by my desperation to believe in him, to trust that he’d changed.

Memories flood my mind—the laughter we once shared, the dreams we built together, the future we promised. All reduced to ashes by his cruel, selfish actions.

I choke back a sob.

The finality of those words is like a knife to the heart. He”s leaving us. He”s abandoning his family, his daughter, for another woman and her child.

The dreams we shared, the vows we made—all meaningless to him now.

I fight the urge to scream and rage against the injustice of it all as I clutch the counter until my knuckles turn white.

How could he do this to us? To Maya? The little girl who idolizes her father and waits eagerly for his return each night.

Maya, my sweet, innocent little girl whose whole world is about to come crashing down. How will I ever explain this to her?

Maya is beside me, her small hand clutching mine. I can”t bear to look at her innocent face, not when my heart is shattering into a million pieces.

The anger, pain, and utter sense of betrayal—it”s all too much and threatens to consume me.

I pull Maya into a fierce embrace, her small body the only thing anchoring me to reality as I sink to the floor.

She doesn”t understand, not yet, and I”ll do everything I can to shield her from the sting of her father”s abandonment.

Maya”s small voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. “Mama? Where”s Daddy?”

She gazes at me, lower lip trembling. She”s young, but not that young. She needs an explanation, but what can I tell her?

I swallow hard, my mind racing. I need to think of something that sounds reasonable. Something that won”t shatter her innocence or make her feel abandoned.

“Well, baby,” I begin, choosing my words carefully. “Daddy had to go away for a while.”

It”s a flimsy excuse, but it”s the best I can come up with on the spot. I can”t bring myself to tell her the truth.

Her father left us for another woman. He”s starting a new family without us.

“When is he coming back?” she presses, ever the curious one.

“I don”t know,” I force a smile, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. But when she asks why he took our things, I”ve run out of answers. “Don”t worry, sweetie. We”ll get new things. Better things.”

Maya looks at me, her green eyes wide and trusting. “Okay, Mama,” she says, accepting my explanation without question.

I take a deep, steadying breath, pushing back the tears. Maya needs me. I can”t fall apart when she”s looking at me with those wide, trusting eyes.

“Come on, baby. Let”s get ready for bed.”

We make our way upstairs, hand in hand. The house feels foreign, stripped bare of the warmth and comfort it once held. But as we step into Maya”s bedroom, relief washes over me.

Her bed is still there, and her stuffed animals are arranged as she left them this morning. At least Derek had the decency to leave our daughter”s space untouched.

I help Maya change into her pajamas and tuck her into bed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Try to get some sleep, okay? I”ll be right back.”

Maya nods, clutching her favorite teddy bear close. My heart aches at the sight of her, so innocent and unaware of the upheaval that”s shaken our lives.

As I step out of her room, the weight of our situation crashes over me. I don”t have a bed, and there”s no way Maya and I can fit comfortably in her small bed.

Panic rises in my chest, but then a thought strikes—my camping gear.

I hurry to the attic, praying that Derek left it behind. Camping was always my thing, not his. He never understood the appeal of sleeping under the stars, preferring the comfort of a plush hotel room.

Dust motes dance in the dim light as I push open the attic door. The musty smell of disuse fills my nostrils as I step inside, scanning the cluttered space.

Boxes labeled with faded markers are piled haphazardly: “Christmas decorations,” “Maya”s baby clothes,” and “College textbooks.”

And there, in the corner, I spot the familiar shape of my camping gear. With trembling hands, I pull back the tarp, revealing the sturdy tent and sleeping bags I”ve had since college.

Relief floods through me, almost bringing me to my knees. Grabbing the gear, I make my way downstairs. It”s not the cozy home we once had, but it”s a start.

As I prepare my makeshift bed, I force myself to remember the most important thing. Derek isn”t going to destroy me. I refuse to let him.

Alone in the dark, I gaze at the empty main bedroom, swiping angrily at my cheeks. I need to focus on practicalities now—food, clothes, shelter. Derek has ripped away the necessities without warning.

Shelter first. For now, we still have the roof over our heads.

I’ll handle whatever comes next for Maya and me. I”ll have to find a job, and fast. I can”t rely on Derek”s empty promises of financial support. I need to be able to provide for her on my own.

I crawl into the lumpy sleeping bag, fully clothed. But as I lie there, staring into the dark, I make a silent vow. “Everything”s going to be okay.”

One day, I”ll look back on this as a bump in the road. A painful bump.

One I”ll recover from, somehow. I have to, for Maya”s sake.