Chapter 16
STELLA
Felix parked at our special place—the mountain lookout with a clear view of the city skyline. That hidden spot always held a certain majesty. It was a shame it would now be tarnished.
The night was filled with bittersweet memory, which left the aftertaste of arsenic behind.
It was sad in a way, Felix saw what he wanted to see: a clueless wife besotted with her husband. It couldn’t have been further from the truth.
When he pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth, I had to cut off a growl.
As he tracked my frame in lust, I spun and made a show, flaunting what he would never have again.
And when he gifted that ring, that stupid fucking band that sat on my finger like a heavy weight of sin, I had to pull myself back from stabbing a fork into his eye.
My husband had pulled out all the stops. My favourite restaurant. Our special spot. Acting all loving, attentive, nurturing.
The pull was tempting. It would have been easy—so fucking easy—to give into the fantasy of a happy marriage, to pretend like he hadn’t committed all those atrocious acts against me.
Alas, I was not built for that type of sentimentality. Our marriage was a ruse, a sham that I was about to bring to light.
Felix squeezed my thigh in the passenger seat. “Come on, babe. I want to show you something.”
As he prepared a blanket, I sent a text message from my phone before joining him on the edge of the cliff.
He wrapped me up tightly and hugged me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder as we stared out at the twinkling lights stretching far in the distance.
This used to feel warm. But now, it just feels cold… So blisteringly cold. How could he not feel that piercing chill?
“Do you remember my proposal?” he asked, tone nostalgic and filled with affection. “It was the best night of my life. My most cherished memory.”
A distant echo swept through me. It was one of my happiest moments too… until it became one of my most painful.
We had made love on the edge of the world—young, free and consumed in each other. Felix’s sweet words and sacred vows had filled me up that night.
“I’ve stolen your heart, sweetheart…”
“I’ve taken claim to your soul…”
“I’ll always protect them, cherish them.”
Lies. They were all lies. I never could have known that his promises had an expiry date.
Tears built in my lash line and trickled down my cheeks in frustration. Too late. Far too late.
For the first time in forever, he was perceptive enough to catch my pain. “Why are you crying, babe?”
Felix turned me until he was wiping away my tears, sporting an amused expression. “We haven’t even got to the best part yet. It’s one minute till midnight.”
“That’s why I’m crying…”
His brow perked, but before he could question further, fireworks erupted into the starry sky, igniting a spark that had already burnt out long before.
Felix pushed closer, his breath skating across my face. “Happy anniversary, wife. We made it to ten years,” he whispered before he pressed his lips to mine.
I hesitated for a split second, then returned the kiss tenfold—for the ten years of love, for the decade of memories. This is a cleansing. This is closure. This is goodbye.
Sirens broke out in the distance, and I used that alarm as a trigger to bolster my cold indifference.
Felix could sense the sudden shift. He pulled back, eyes sweeping over my mask.
“You’re a thief, Felix Johnson,” I said as my fingers raised to trace across his face. That lying, cowardly face. “You stole my heart, claimed my soul… but you didn’t fulfil your oath, husband.”
His expression morphed into confusion as the sirens grew closer, red and blue lights flashing in the dark.
“Stella?”
“I’m taking them back,” I said, pure power lacing my tone.
His eyes bored into mine, trying to decipher the deep-seated carnage he had left behind.
Two police vehicles entered the carpark, screeching to a halt beside us.
Felix’s head snapped from left to right, taking in the scene. I placed my palms on either side of his cheeks, regaining his focus and attention.
Then I pressed my lips to his as a final promise—the kiss of death. “Happy ten-year anniversary, husband.”
“Felix Johnson?” a gruff voice called from the officer who approached us.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he replied, puzzled.
The officer unclipped a set of handcuffs from his waist. “Turn around and place your hands behind your back.”
“What?! What is this? I haven’t done shit!”
The officer ignored his pleas, spinning Felix so he could secure his wrists at the base of his spine.
I stood frozen, completely impassive and unattached. Felix read that as fear, like I was shutting down from worry.
“Sweetheart! Don’t panic! Call a lawyer. There’s been a misunderstanding!” I am a lawyer… and there is no misunderstanding.
“You have a right to remain silent—”
“Did you not just hear me, asshole?!” he struggled. “I just said there’s been a misunderstanding!”
The officer continued to read my husband his Miranda Rights as he was shoved into the back of the cop car.
Felix’s shouts of frustration continued as they pulled away. Then, he spared me one look through the window. One last glance of desperation and hope. There was none left to give.
I was unsure how long I stood there, stuck in a trance, blindly staring down the empty, winding road in which they had disappeared. Until a warm hand slipped into mine—sure, steady fingers lacing with my own.
I was safe.
“Shit. You’re trembling, baby. Fucking freezing,” Curtis blurted.
He picked up the blanket that had been carelessly discarded and enveloped me within.
I stared up at my childhood best friend and felt my inner ice beginning to thaw as he rubbed over my shoulders and down my arms in rhythmic strokes to generate heat.
Ah, this is what it feels like to be warm. I forgot.
I didn’t know when he had started calling me baby, but I didn’t have the strength to tell him to stop. I liked it, the endearment fitting and somehow natural.
“You okay, Stells?”
I pitched my forehead to his chest, breathing deeply for the first time in a long time.
“I am now.”