Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
EZRA
I’m walking through the grocery store to get a few ingredients for dinner. It’s been a cloudy, cold day, so I want to make soup again. Vi liked my last batch of soup, so I think I will try a different one.
Something about the smell of soup simmering on the stove on a cloudy day always hits the spot.
The warmth of it wraps around the house like a warm hug.
It’s comforting in a way. Even though the outside is gray and ugly, there is something calming and relaxing on days like this.
It makes the entire world feel quieter and peaceful.
And then my peacefulness is wrecked by the sight of her. Fuck, I groan to myself.
Damn, first her mother and now her. Of all the grocery stores, why this one? I need to find a new grocery store.
Should I walk out? I’m not in the mood for her, and I already know how this is going to go down.
I pivot myself and the cart around and go toward another aisle, hoping she didn’t see me but already knowing she did. I know eventually I’m going to have to file for divorce papers because I know damn well she’s not going to.
I grab an ingredient off the shelf, thinking I’m in the clear, when I hear, “Ezra.”
My face tightens in pain from the sound of her voice. I stand in silence watching her step closer towards me.
“How are you?”
How am I? It’s shocking she doesn’t go straight to her victim mentality.
“Good,” I answer, and walk past her.
Her breath catches and she reaches out her hand to stop me. “Ez.”
I turn around and look at her hand on my arm and then back up to her.
She looks mostly sober. Her eyes look clearer, but there is still something there—a hint of leftovers still lingering on her.
Leftovers that I can’t quite put my finger on.
Alcohol? Or being used by the man she spread her legs for?
“Can we talk?”
“What do you have to say now?”
She blinks back like she doesn’t even know what to say because she’s never seen me give her the cold shoulder.
I’ve always put her above me, and that’s where I went wrong.
Even though it’s so hard to admit it, I gave her the ability to walk all over me.
I’m part of the reason for that, so I can’t put all the blame on her.
But I broke that the moment I found out she slept with Zayn.
It shocked me when she took the initiative to move out, but I think she didn’t know how to handle the new me. So, instead, she left.
I walk away again.
“Wait.” She grabs onto me once more. “I miss you.”
I stare back at her with a blank face. I honestly have no words about what to say to her. There is nothing left to be said. There was a time when I would say something back, but now? It’s like everything has dried up for her. All that is left is…nothing. I don’t feel anything.
“Don’t you miss me?”
“No.”
Her mouth parts. “Come on, it’s me, your wife.”
“You may be my wife on paper, but emotionally and physically you’re not.”
“Ezra.” Her voice is tight and her chin is quivering with the effort not to cry. “You don’t mean that.”
“No, I do.”
“What do I have to do to make this right?”
My face twists into a what-the-fuck look. “Nothing. There will never be an us again.”
“If it’s because you slept with Violet, I understand. I forgive you,” she spits out fast as I step away from her. “We can move forward from this and start over.”
I turn around. “Rya, what don’t you get?
You’re a selfish human being, and that’s putting it nicely.
We’re done. We should have been done a long time ago, but I put our friendship above my happiness.
All for what? For you to go spread your legs for someone who probably never intended on leaving his wife for you.
I gave you everything, and you wasted it. I’m done wasting my time on you.”
“This is because of Violet, huh?”
My jaw tightens. “Keep her name out of your mouth.”
Her head jerks back.
“You know damn well she didn’t deserve any of this.
She was your best friend. She loved you like a sister.
But once again you only thought about yourself.
You’re still only thinking about yourself.
And what did you think, you and Zayn were going to ride off into the sunset together?
” I scoff, shaking my head. I step in closer to her.
“And did you really think we wouldn’t have found out that you lied to us all those years ago? ”
She swallows hard, eyes darting to the floor. “What do you mean?”
“You knew she liked me, but instead of letting her be happy, you had to get what she wanted. Why is it so hard for you to let someone else be happy? You walk all over everyone’s happiness as if it makes you happy seeing others not get what they want.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is, and you know it is. And until you come to realize it, you’re going to live a long, lonely life.”
Her mouth slams shut, her jaw sets hard, and she crosses her arms. “You know my mom told me she saw you here, and you were very disrespectful to her. I don’t know what has gotten into you, but you owe me.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“We’re married, which means I get half of everything.”
I huff in laughter. “Okay.”
“How could you treat me like this? Like I’m nothing?”
“You showed me I meant nothing to you, so here we are…nothing,” I reply calmly.
“Well, maybe if you were a man, I wouldn’t have had to go seek someone else.”
Wow, she’s a spitting image of her mother, and now she speaks the same words as her.
“And how is that working out for you so far?”
She glares at me as her face tightens with more anger. “I can’t believe you.”
“Me neither,” I say with a wide smile and walk away.
I chuckle to myself. There’s something freeing I feel, right about now.
The things that used to make my stomach drop don’t faze me anymore.
Her tone and attitude used to make me very nervous because I knew she would bring something up and manipulate it.
But now I feel like I’m stepping out of it, and she no longer affects me. And god, it feels good.
I walk into the kitchen; the smell of freshly baked bread is thick in the air. Violet pivots around, and catches my gaze as I walk in.
“I didn’t know you would be here,” I say, setting the bags down on the counter.
“The bakery was slow today.” She opens up one of the grocery bags. “I might close early since we hardly get any traffic in the evenings.”
“That will be nice.”
“Will it?”
“Yes,” I say with a smile. “I’ll be able to see you more.” I walk behind her, wrapping my arms around her. The sweetness of her travels to my nose.
“Yeah,” she states as if my hug means nothing to her. It used to make her smile and giggle like it did when we were teens being playful with each other. That’s what I love about us—we’re always playful and giggling like our old selves.
I release my arms from her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just been thinking.” She avoids my gaze. She pulls out the bag of potatoes and looks at it curiously. “Are you going to cook something?”
I want to push on what she’s thinking about but her tone stops me.
“Yeah, I was going to make potato soup.”
I stand to the side of her trying to catch if she’ll look at me but she doesn’t; she keeps pulling things out of the bag and my stomach sinks.
“I made fresh bread. That will go well with the soup.”
“Mhmm.”
Did I mess this up with bringing up my feelings?
Something feels off, like there’s a shift in her.
It’s subtle, but it’s there. The way she avoids looking at me and her smile, which is usually wide, is not there.
She already told me nothing was wrong, and I don’t want to push.
Maybe she’s carrying something she’s not ready to put into words.
I don’t want to overthink this. But it’s hard not to because the shift happened after we talked about where we stand.
Now, I’m second-guessing whether it was too soon.
But then again, was it? We were acting like a couple.
If she doesn’t want that, it’s fine, but I don’t want to be left in the dark.
Like I was before. I’m trying to be patient and give her time, like I said I would, but this shift is taking me back to when I first heard that she likes Zayn.
And I never wanted to feel that way again.
But here I am because she’s worth it. I know she is.
I need to give her time, but will this time affect me like it did before?
“So my parents asked me if we would be free this Sunday for dinner?”
Her eyebrows raise. “Oh, yeah, I’m free.”
“Okay,” I say softly. “I’ll let them know we’ll be there.”
“‘Kay. Do you want me to help you with anything?”
“Do you want to peel the potatoes?”
“Sure.”
We cook in the kitchen together quietly. It’s almost too quiet because each cling of kitchenware echoes throughout the house. Normally we’d be joking or talking about our day, but the silence stretches out. Sometimes I watch her more than the food, trying to get a glimpse of the Violet I know.