Chapter 44
One more week down. Something I used to say and count down so I could enjoy more time with Zayn since he’s off on the weekends.
Now I say it as if I’m trying to bypass my time until the next week starts, so I have more time by myself while he’s at work.
How pathetic is that? And to think, people live like this constantly because they don’t leave.
It makes me so sad. Now here I am sitting in a situation I never thought I would be in.
I’ve contemplated leaving even if I don’t find proof of anything.
Not only would I be losing my husband, but my best friend.
When I look back at when we were little, playing in the dirt, I never expected to be treated this way by him.
Even in our school days, he never once treated me like this.
He protected me emotionally and physically.
He was my best friend; I could never see this ever happening.
If I leave him, what would happen to my friendship with Rya and Ezra? I know Rya would still be friends with me, but would it be the same? Would it be the same with Ezra? Would they pick sides?
But I can’t stay only because of the fear of losing my friendship with them. It’s not fair to me.
Haley: Hey Violet, I have a huge favor to ask of you?
Violet: Hi what favor?
Haley: My Niece’s birthday party is tomorrow at one and the other caterer bailed on her cupcakes. Would you be able to make a hundred cupcakes?
I read over the text wondering what child has a hundred friends. Even including family members. A hundred seems outrageous. But that seems to always be the way of the parties Haley throws.
Haley: It’s mermaid themed.
Do I say no? I’m tired and I don’t have any orders I needed to do this Saturday. But she’s also my number one customer, so I would hate to turn her down. But then again, it’s not like Zayn and I are going to do anything. Hell, we probably won’t even look at each other. It will keep my mind busy.
Violet: I can make it work.
Haley: OMG! Thank you so much. Charge me whatever you want. I’ll double it.
After finalizing the order, I make my way to the kitchen to complete a chunk of the baking tonight so that I can finish the rest in the morning.
As I’m adding the flour into the bowl, Zay walks in, his presence causing tension to creep up my spine.
We don’t speak, not even a glance in each other’s direction.
He heads upstairs without a word. Every single day, this makes me sad and breaks my heart a little more.
A moment later, I hear the faint sound of water running from the shower. Is he going out tonight? The thought lingers, though I try to push it away. He’s made it clear that he’s lost interest in our date nights. I try not to let the disappointment creep in, but it’s hard.
A short time later, I hear the creaks of the stairs as he comes down.
He doesn’t say a word, strolls past the kitchen.
I watch him from where I stand, my hands still covered in flour.
He passes me by without a glance over at me or any word of where he is going.
He steps outside and heads straight for the garage.
The door shuts with a soft thud, and the sound of the engine starting soon follows.
I stand there frozen, the mixing spoon gripped in my hand, my mind racing to process if this is our new norm. Disbelief floods through me because it’s starting to feel like it is.
It’s as if I’m invisible, as if I don’t matter to him at all.
I set the spatula down and run upstairs. This might be my chance to catch him. I slip on a pair of sandals and run back downstairs. Surprisingly, I remember to turn off the oven before I run out to the garage to my car.
If he really is hanging out with friends from work, they will most likely be at the bars down Main Street rather than the city an hour away from us. He’s told me before they don’t enjoy going out to the city with overpriced drinks.
Once I hit Main Street, I ease my foot off the gas and drive slower, my eyes scanning the sidewalks and parking lots.
The glow of the streetlights reflects off my windshield as I pass by bars and restaurants he might be at.
My heart pounds in my chest as I look through the large windows of some places, hoping to catch a glimpse of him inside.
But some don’t have big windows, making it impossible to see anything from the street.
Frustration creeps in as I turn into the parking lot of a bar he’s been to before. I circle around, my eyes darting between cars, searching for his. But there’s nothing. No sign of him.
With a sigh, I pull back onto the road, my grip tightening on the steering wheel.
Where could he be? The sinking feeling in my stomach only grows as I continue down the street.
I turn into another bar that has a big parking lot at the back of it, scanning the lot. But there is still no sign of his truck
It’s still early in the night; he might have gone to a friend’s to pregame.
I pull over into a Target parking lot, somewhere I doubt he will be at.
I lean back into my seat and decide to wait it out for a bit.
My hands shake as the anxiety rises. I know I’m trying to catch him with someone, but it’s actually making me sick to my stomach.
How am I going to feel if I see him with another woman, if I’m already feeling this sick?
Around eleven o’clock, about an hour later, when bars typically become more crowded, I start my car and head back out. The reflections of the other car’s headlights makes it hard to see in the dark. Which makes it even harder to look over my shoulder at the bars.
I pull my car over to the side of the road and I decide to walk along Main Street. It will make it easier anyway, if I catch him with someone because I’ll be on foot. If I’m in my car and he sees me, he has a better chance of getting away.
Fuck, I’m truly going crazy.
I pace my steps as I look into a window, but the only thing I see is the reflection of myself. Should I go in and look around? I stand here frozen, debating my options because I don’t want him to see me if he’s not with anyone.
I hear a group of guys laughing coming my way. My whole body tenses up as I turn my head to see if it’s him. They head straight in my direction. It’s guys I don’t recognize. One guy opens the door to the bar. One by one, they all go in. I peek my head in before the door shuts.
“You coming or going?” the bearded man says as he looks at the last guy’s ID.
“Umm.” I scan over the crowd. I look back over at him and shake my head.
His brows raise as he stares over me.
Has he seen this scene before? A wife trying to catch her husband in the act.
The door shuts behind me, and a deep shiver ripples through my body. Despite it being warm outside, my anxiety sends a chill through me. Or is it adrenaline?
I’m wondering what other places he could be at as I walk further down the street. Is he even here? If not here, where else would he be? Did he head up to the city with a bitch by his side?
I stop trying to rethink my behavior, deciding if I should keep going or head back to my car. A door to another bar opens, laughter filling the air as a couple walks out hand in hand. The man stops and holds the door open. I scan the door up and down.
“Are you going in?” he asks.
“Yeah. Thanks,” I say and walk in. There is a bar to my right full of men and woman.
My heart beats faster as I look over the line of people sitting and chatting away at the bar.
Once I’m done scanning the bar and find no Zay in sight, my shoulders relax.
But not for long, because as I scan the tables, I’m hit like a deer in the headlight.
Zayn’s brown eyes are staring at me. Staring at me so hard that it looks like his eyes are growing bigger with the realization that it’s me.
His wife.
Standing in the bar staring back at him.
His guy friends look between him and me, and their grins turn into wide grins before full on laughter. One guy shoves Zay's shoulder and says something I can’t make out.
Now, the only emotion I feel is stupidity.
Stupidity again for thinking he was cheating. He’s out with his guy friends and I’m standing here trying to catch him in the act. But what act?
I turn and speed walk as fast as I can. I don’t even hear the door shut behind me because I’m walking faster than I have ever walked to get back to my car. I would run, but I don’t want to make it look like I’m being chased.
“Violet.”
My name erupts into my ear. Loud and angry.
I look over my shoulder and see Zayn jogging toward me with a scowl on his face. I stop, turn all the way to face him. My body trembles from my nervousness, worse than it has all night. He gets closer and I see his forehead has the deepest line that I don’t remember him having before.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
My mouth drops open.
My heart races faster. His tone of voice and the way he speaks to me now still catch me off guard. I thought he was angry before, but this sounds worse.
“Don’t talk to me like that?” I say sternly.
No matter what is going on, I should never be talked to like that.
He’s the one making me feel this gut feeling, and yet he wants to talk to me like that.
He’s the one who has blown up on me time and time again, and I’ve sat back and listened and tried to understand him.
What has he done for me when I tell him what I’m feeling?
Nothing.
His chest rises and falls in anger. “What are you doing here? Are you seriously trying to piss me off and embarrass me in front of my friends?”
Tears rim my eyes as I stare back at this man who once loved me. I don’t feel that love from him anymore. I don’t know what hurts most, knowing he doesn’t love me or thinking he’s cheating.
“I just…” I say, pausing for a moment to swallow the lump in my throat. “I swore you were going to be with someone.”
His head falls back. “Jesus Christ. This fucking shit again.”
“Yes, this shit again.”
“Did the perfume not prove anything to you?”
“Fuck the perfume. There is more that is going on with you other than the smell of my perfume.” My hands are clammy, not helping the trembles running through my body.
“You’re fucking crazy. You know that?” he says, turning his back to me.
“I said. Do. Not. Talk. To. Me. Like. That.” I pause, cross my arms. “I’m not crazy. I know what I feel.”
He pivots back around, his face reddened by his anger. “Do you have any proof?”
Silence fills the air.
“Exactly. You don’t. So stop accusing me of something that I’m not doing.”
I step up closer to him. “Then what have you been doing on the weekends?”
He throws his arms up toward the bar. “This.”
“Bars close at two and you don’t come home until the sun is up.” I tighten my arms around my chest harder to stop myself from shaking.
“I didn’t know I was on a curfew,” he says in a sarcastic tone, his shoulders shrugging and his head shaking.
“See, you don’t answer the question,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.
He exhales sharply. “That wasn’t a question.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Ughhh,” he groans.
“I don’t come home because I don’t want to deal with this shit,” he says, waving his arms around me.
“So, you’re telling me you don’t want to come home to me?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
A heavy weight settles into my chest. I blink back the tears, trying not to cry in front of him. But those words hit hard.
The worse kind of loneliness is when the person you love the most makes you feel alone.
I take a few steps away from him and take one last look at him before I turn around and walk away. If I were the same girl a couple of months ago, I would have wanted him to chase after me. Fight for me. Fight for us. But now all I want is to get far away from him as possible.
My tears flow harder as I replay those words over. I may not have caught him with someone else, but his words cut just as deep.