3. Mary
Chapter 3
Mary
I reach to the other side of the bed, my fingertips gliding over the cold sheets. The sun highlights the empty space. Mocking me.
Shit.
I sit up, the sheets pooling around my waist. Blinking, I take in the unfamiliar room. White walls and sleek black furniture. Something’s different.
The blindfold. It’s gone. He took it off.
I scan the room, searching for any sign of Chris. His clothes, his watch, anything. But there’s nothing.
My gaze snaps to the dresser. A white folded piece of paper rests atop the polished wood, the blindfold nestled beside it.
I wrap the sheet around me and scoot to the edge of the bed. A dull ache between my legs makes me wince, reminding me of last night’s activities. Of his hands on me. His mouth.
My heart races as I stumble over, my legs still shaky. I snatch up the note, my eyes devouring the words. But there’s only one line, scrawled in hurried handwriting.
I’m sorry, C.
What? Sorry? Sorry for what? For leaving? For making me feel things I’ve never felt before? For fucking me senseless and then disappearing like a ghost?
I read the words again and again, but they don’t change.
No. That’s… That’s fucking it? After everything, he just… leaves?
Is that all? No explanation?
The paper is blank save for those two words and one letter.
It slips from my fingers, drifting to the floor as I stand motionless. Tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them back. How could he do this? We’d spent months, no years, getting to know each other, sharing everything with each other. I thought we had something, a connection. But apparently, it was all just a game to him. A one-night-stand with the naive little rich girl.
Only good enough for a quick fuck and ditch. I’ll never be enough for more.
Bile rises in my throat, and I have to fight the urge to be sick. No. This. Is. Not. Happening. It’s a dream, right? A bad dream.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I will wake up now. Any moment.
A tear rolls down my cheek. This is not a dream.
I’ve let myself believe in empty promises and pretty words. Chris got what he wanted, and now he’s gone. I’ve been so stupid.
On autopilot, I gather my clothes and get dressed. My limbs feel heavy, my movements sluggish, but I force myself to keep going. I grab the blindfold, my fingers curling around the silky fabric. I should throw it away, forget this ever happened. But something stops me.
Maybe it’s the memory of his touch, the way he made me feel. Or maybe it’s the tiny flicker of hope that this isn’t the end. That he’ll come back and explain everything.
I tuck the blindfold into my purse, along with the crumpled note. A reminder of the night that changed everything. And a promise to myself to never make that mistake again. I have to get out of here. Away from this place, away from the memories. Away from him.
But not even my apartment offers comfort. I collapse onto the couch, hot tears spilling down my cheeks as the full impact of Chris leaving hits me. Tearing tissue after tissue from the box beside me, I give no thought to the growing pile of crumpled wads surrounding me.
Why would he do this? If I wasn’t enough for him, why lead me on at all? Take my virginity and then discard me like yesterday’s trash? To be fair, he didn’t know. But still. All those hours we spent talking. All those days, I didn’t pay attention to any other guy because he is… was my crush.
The thought makes me sick all over again. I grab another tissue, blowing my nose as tears keep coming and coming.
What did I do to deserve this?
Why doesn’t anyone want me ?
Am I so unlovable? Annoying?
I bury my face in my hands, chest heaving.
When will I ever learn?
The door creaks open, and I glimpse up with blurry eyes. Gemma. Concern creases her brow as she takes in the sight before her: tissues scattered everywhere, most probably mascara tracks staining my cheeks.
She doesn’t say a word, crossing the room and wrapping me in her arms. I cling to her, fresh sobs wracking my body as she holds me close, one hand stroking my hair while the other rubs circles on my back.
“He ended it.” The words tumble out on a sob.
“I’m so sorry.” Gemma’s arms tighten around me.
“He—he left. After we…”
“What an ass. You deserve so much better. So much better.”
I shake my head. “And then… I found a note.”
“What did it say?”
“That—That he’s sorry.” I shrug, the motion jagged. “I should have known. When I asked to see him without the mask, he refused. But I was too blind. Too stupid.”
“You’re not stupid.” Gemma brushes the hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “You trusted him, that’s all. He’s the one who betrayed that trust, not you.”
“But why? Why did he do this? We talked for so long, I thought…” My voice cracks. “I thought he cared.”
“I don’t know. Some people are cruel. It speaks volumes about him, not you. ”
“But that’s just it, isn’t it? Maybe I… maybe I’m not worth loving, not really. Not for who I am.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that.” Gemma grasps my hands. “Any man would be lucky to have you.”
I hate that saying. If any guy would be lucky, why isn’t Chris? I give a watery chuckle, wiping at my nose. “You have to say that. You’re my best friend.”
“It’s the truth.” She throws her arms around me in a hug.
After a while, my tears slow, the jagged edges of my pain dulling to a steady ache while Gemma still holds me in her arms. My gaze drifts around the floor. Tissues, Gem’s bag and a crumpled piece of paper. Did I lose the one from Chris? Wait, no. The note from Chris was white, not yellow.
“What’s that?”
“What?” Gemma turns and stiffens, her cheeks flushing. She snatches up the paper before I can get a closer look. “It’s nothing. It’s trash.”
It’s not. Her voice pitches higher, a dead giveaway.
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
Gemma avoids my gaze, fiddling with the note in her hands.
“Come on, spill.”
“I don’t…”
“I could use a distraction right now.”
“I met someone last night.”
“What?” My eyes fly wide. “Spill. Now.”
“His name is Elijah, and he’s handsome and sweet and… we…” She pauses, lips curving into a smile. “Clicked.”
Gemma frowns at the note, thumb brushing over the creases.
I nudge her with my foot. “Well? How was he?”
“He was… good.”
“Good?”
She giggles. “Okay, it was amazing. The best night of my life.”
I bounce on the couch, clapping my hands together. “I knew you had a secret boyfriend. When do I get to meet him?”
“He’s not my boyfriend. It was a one-time thing. I shouldn’t get my hopes up.”
“Don’t be silly.” While my own love life may be a disaster, at least Gemma found someone special. “So, when are you seeing him again?”
She passes the paper to me in silence.
8 pm. River’s on Vandam Street. I’ll be waiting for you, my gem. Love, Elijah
“He wants to see you? Tonight?”
Her eyes dart away. “I shouldn’t go.”
“You should definitely go.”
“I’m not sure.”
“The old Gem wouldn’t have hesitated.” I plaster on a wide smile, hoping to mask the ache in my chest. Now is about Gemma, not me.
“Don’t you think that’s too soon? After Oliver…”
Ah, Oliver. Her asshole of hopefully-soon-ex-husband. He’s the worst of the worst. Gem became a completely different person, her usual passion for fashion and her self-confidence gone. And then he cheated on her. As soon as she found out, she filed for divorce, but it’s still not through. At least she’s slowly getting back to her old self.
“No, it’s not. At least think about it?” I ask.
A smile teases the corner of her lips. “I’ll think about it.”
She leans back, peering at me with concern.
“So, what are you going to wear?” I paste on another smile.
“I don’t know. What does one even wear on a second date?”
“Something sexy but not too sexy.” I tap my chin. “You want to leave some mystery but also entice him with a glimpse of what’s to come.”
Gemma swats my arm. “I think he already knows what’s there to come.”
“True, but still. What about the backless dress you have? The red one?”
“I’ll think about it.”
She disappears into her room, leaving me alone while I try to distract myself by flipping through the channels on TV, but nothing holds my interest.
Why did he leave? Did I do something wrong? Oh god. Did I use my teeth, and that’s why? But can it be something as simple as that? We could’ve talked about it. I thought we had something special.
I squeeze my eyes shut, clutching a pillow to my chest. Never had a boyfriend. It can’t be them anymore. Something must be wrong with me .
After some hours, I drag myself over to the bathroom, making a quick stop at Gemma’s room, knocking. “Time to get ready for your date with your husband Elijah.”
“He’s not my husband,” Gem shouts back through the door.
Tell yourself that. I smile, heading to the bathroom and turning on the faucet. Steam rises as the tub fills, the familiar scent of lavender bath salts wafting through the air.
Sinking into the scalding water brings a gasp. My muscles go lax against the heat, soothing my ache. I close my eyes, trying to silence the storm of thoughts swirling through my mind.
How he felt and guided me. It was safe and comfortable, and the blindfold enhanced every whisper and touch. He made me feel beautiful. Special. Like I mattered, much like the affirmations at the end of a nurturing yoga session. To be honest, I prefer him.
I lower myself deeper into the water.
How could he do this? Leave like nothing happened, like I meant nothing?
The bittersweet ache between my legs is the only evidence I have left of Chris, the man I thought I knew, the man I foolishly believed wanted me as much as I wanted him.
A fantasy.
The tears come again, harder this time, wracking sobs that steal my breath. For once, I just want to fall apart.