Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
VIOLET
After yesterday, I’ve been on this high of decluttering all my stuff. It feels refreshing, like I’m shredding excess weight off my mind and body, so I wanted to keep it going. The air in this house feels lighter, less muggy. I can breathe better. Ashley was right. Somehow it helps.
Today I turned my attention to the bathrooms…
again. This time I’m underneath the sinks, deep inside the cabinets, digging out expired products…
and anything that’s Zayn’s. I’m done being nice.
I’m now throwing his stuff away. Well, at least product wise for right now.
While I’m digging through and finding more and more stuff to throw away, I keep questioning why I have all this in the first place?
And why have I held onto it for so long?
I’ve thrown away so much expired shampoo and conditioner.
What made me buy multiple in the first place?
Why didn’t I use up what I had and then buy a new one?
Why does it matter to have so many? I over consume everything, it seems like.
I spot a gold, square-shaped thing in the shadowed corner of the cabinet and reach for it.
My fingers tremble slightly as I pull it out, and the moment I see it in full light, my chest tightens, and the blood rushes from my face.
It’s a condom. My stomach twists, a punch to the gut I wasn’t ready for.
I look further in, my hand shaking as I reach for a black box tucked deep into the corner.
My breath catches in my throat as I pull the box out of the cabinet.
These aren’t mine. That can mean only one thing.
They’re Zayn’s. My fingers shake even more looking for the expiration date, and when I see that they’re not expired, my stomach drops even further. We never used condoms.
These weren’t for us.
They were for him—and Rya.
I sink back on my heels, heart hammering.
I drop the box on the ground. Every time I think I’m holding it together, something else comes to the surface.
How could someone I trusted, someone I shared everything with be so sleazy and so deceitful right behind my back?
And now, questions flood my mind. What else was he hiding?
What else had he been lying about? If he’s capable of lying about this, there must be more.
Was our whole marriage a lie?
Was our whole friendship a lie?
Are there more women I don’t know about?
It’s pointless asking him. He couldn’t come clean about Rya. What makes me think he’ll come clean if there are more women? He won’t like the coward he is. He only came clean about Rya after I found out.
I press my face into my hands and try to steady my shaking.
Instead of dwelling on this, I storm to the closet—legs trembling, hands shaking, and chest pounding. I grab a fistful of Zayn’s clothes and throw them hard onto the floor. They hit the floor with a softer thud than I would have liked, and all it does is fuel the anger inside me.
I don’t stop. I rip and I yank everything I can get my hands on—shirts, pants, and jackets all fly around me in rage.
Hangers bounce off the rack flying with the clothes.
My breath comes in heavy and short. My head pounds as adrenaline courses through me.
I keep going and I scream about all the betrayal. All the lies.
I go in for more clothes to wrap around my fists, but the rack is empty. I look down at the mess on the floor. A huge chaotic mess. Just like my life.
I’m shaking, screaming, and tears stream down my face as I stare down at all his clothes.
I collapse to the floor, my legs giving out beneath me until I sink down completely.
My back presses against the floor. My chest rises and falls in uneven bursts.
Hot tears stream down my face and soak my hairline.
I cry until the sound of it fills the room.
My body shakes with the release. It’s ugly and desperate, but it’s real, and I let it all out because holding it in has been worse.
Everything has been eating me alive inside.
I’m so sick of this. So sick of crying over him.
Over us. Over everything. All I want is for it to end.
For the weight to finally slide off my chest, and for the ache to stop clawing at my heart.
I want the lies and the heartbreak to go.
I want to stop feeling like I’m bleeding out over someone who never deserved me. I want everything to be done.
I don’t know how long it’s been, but I finally peel my back off the floor and sit upright, and the blood rushing down my head makes me lightheaded.
I blink back the dizziness until I can finally see better.
Staring back at me is my jewelry stand knocked over on the floor.
It must have gotten knocked over in my rage.
Earrings, necklaces, and bracelets are scattered all around.
I let out a groan, knowing I made an even bigger mess for myself.
I scoot closer to the jewelry and begin picking everything up. I sort through it all. A few necklaces have tangled together, and I groan again, knowing how annoying those are to separate.
Once I’m done separating the tangled necklaces, I hesitantly reach for a ring.
Not any ring. My wedding ring. I pick it up and bring it up to the light.
To my surprise, the ring doesn’t have its normal shine.
It’s now dull, just like the man who placed it on my finger.
This ring used to mean so much to me. Now, all it does is remind me of all his lies.
I look down at my ring finger. A small indent where the ring used to lie wraps around my finger.
Even with the ring off, there is still evidence of where the ring used to hug my finger tight.
I rub my finger trying to see if the indent goes away.
All it does is make my finger red. I huff in frustration.
How long will this take to disappear? How long will it take for Zayn to finally disappear?
I throw it back in the jewelry box and toss it into the corner of my closet.
Out of the corner of my eye, something pink catches my attention. I turn and spot the beaded bracelet Ezra made me when we were kids.
I pick it up, rolling the beads gently between my fingers, tracing the dark pink and light pink beads that circle around it.
My thumb brushes over the three white beads in the center that are stamped with “BFF.” A small smile tugs at my lips as memories of us flood back.
When times were simpler. When the only thing I was worried about was when I would get to play with my friends again.
I let out a sigh while more tears drop onto my hand as my head hangs low, staring down at pieces of my childhood. It is gut wrenching having to mourn the husband I thought I would spend the rest of my life with while also mourning my best friends.
I shift my body around until I find the ones Zayn and Rya made for me.
I grab the violet one that Rya made for me.
I remember her choosing this color since my name is Violet.
My gaze falls on the four white beads marked “BFFE.” She used to always say, “Best friends forever and ever.” I drop hers to the ground and pick up the white beaded one Zayn made.
It only has white beads, no “BFF” or anything like that.
Memories of him complaining that we were making bracelets like girls flood my mind.
He didn’t want to do it and he half-assed it so we could get done quicker and go outside to play.
Has he always been an asshole, and I never saw it?
“What happened here?”
My body jerks from being startled. I was so consumed by my thoughts I didn’t hear Ezra come in.
I look between him and the floor. It looks like a tornado, or a crazy person, blew through here. Zayn’s not even here, and he’s still making me go crazy.
“Ugh. I don’t know,” I say, looking back up at him. “I think I’m going crazy.”
“You’re not crazy.” He sits down on the floor in front of me. Not even caring that he’s sitting on Zayn’s clothes. “I told you I would pack it all up for you.”
“I know. I was throwing away stuff under the sink and I found…” I trail off and look behind him and into the bathroom where the box of condoms lies. These condoms mean Zayn used them with Ezra’s wife. Nausea swirls in my stomach thinking about it all over again. “I found a box of condoms.”
He turns his head, following my line of sight. “Oh.”
“They’re not mine.”
He bites his bottom lip and nods his head. He knows exactly what I’m getting at with this, so I’m thankful I don’t have to say it.
“And then I got so upset I started throwing his shit on the floor,” I say as we both look around us. I let out a sigh. “Are you looking at me differently now with how crazy I’m going?”
“No. I could never. I would question it more if you weren’t doing anything crazy.”
I give him a subtle smile as I gaze at him for never judging me. Right now, I feel like he left one crazy for another. I rub my ring finger again, and ask, “Do you still have your wedding ring?”
I follow his gaze down to his finger. He doesn’t have an indent like I do. “Yeah. But I haven’t worn it in years.”
That’s the one thing I loved about Zayn; he would always wear his—never shying away from the fact that he was married.
So why, when he slept with Rya, wasn’t that a reminder?
Instead, he continued to wear his ring and sleep with her.
Would he see it when he was between her legs?
Wouldn’t he feel it? Did it mean nothing to him but an ordinary piece of metal he wore around his finger?
“Oh, I never noticed,” I say, still rubbing at my finger.
A smirk forms on his face. “Neither did Rya.” He lets out a chuckle that sounds more like something that should be shocking but isn’t.
Rya also wore her ring. She loved jewelry and flaunting her diamond ring around. Did she take it off before fucking my husband? Or did she keep it wrapped around her finger like the cunt she is?
“But look what I found,” I say excitedly. I reach for the pink bracelet and show it to him.
His smile turns wide as he reaches back for his wallet.
He opens it and pulls out three white beads with a small string attached to each side.
He puts them in his palm and shows me they say the same “BFF” in blue letters.
“This is the one you made for me. But it broke, so I kept the three BFF beads. But mine was blue.” He clears his throat.
“The rest was dark blue and light blue beads.”
My eyes go wide. “You kept them?”
“Yeah.”
“Rya never got mad?”
He lets out a laugh. “Rya is so into herself she never knew.”
I’ve been questioning if Zayn has always been an asshole, but now I’m wondering if Rya has always been that way too? It seems like the two are made for each other. They’re both deceitful and sleazy.
Ezra clears his throat. “There has been something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about?”
My eyes shift to him. “Okay. What about?”
“It’s about what Rya—” He’s cut off by the doorbell. Both of us stare back at each other, eyes wide.