Eleven
Susanna
Hillary's guest room is small and cold, and I can't stop shaking.
I'm sitting on the bed, still in my dress, mascara streaking down my face. Hillary's downstairs making tea, giving me space to fall apart in private.
My phone keeps buzzing. Teller, calling over and over.
I block his number.
Then I open my photos. Scroll back to our wedding day. Teller in his tux, looking at me like I hung the moon. Me in my white dress, so happy, so sure we'd be together forever.
Three years ago. Only three years.
How did we get here?
I keep scrolling. Our honeymoon in Greece. The day we bought our house. Last Christmas, both of us laughing in front of the tree.
When did he stop looking at me like that?
When did I become invisible to him?
My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.
Unknown: Susanna, it's Clarissa. Frank gave Emmaline and I your number. I'm so sorry. I had no idea you two were still together. Frank told me you were separated and that Teller was ready to move on. I would never have pursued him if I'd known. I'm so, so sorry.
I stare at the message. Part of me wants to respond, to tell her it's not her fault. But a bigger part of me is too angry, too hurt.
Another text, different unknown number.
Unknown: This is Emmaline. I feel terrible about what happened tonight.
Frank told me the same thing—that you and Teller were separated.
I thought I was helping him move on from a bad situation.
I'm so sorry for any pain I caused. For what it's worth, Teller talked about you constantly.
I should have realized he was still in love with you.
Still in love with me.
Is he?
Because it doesn't feel like love. It feels like neglect. It feels like betrayal.
It feels like I've been married to a stranger.
Hillary comes in with two mugs of tea. She sits beside me on the bed, not saying anything, just being there.
"I don't know what to do," I finally whispered.
"You don't have to know right now. You just have to get through tonight."
"I can't go back there. I can't look at him."
"Then don't. Stay here as long as you need."
"What if he doesn't leave? What if he's there when I go back?"
"Then I'll come with you, and we'll make him leave."
I lean against her shoulder, and she wraps her arm around me.
"I really thought we were happy," I say. "I thought we were just going through a rough patch. I didn't realize he was—"
I can't finish the sentence.
"He's an idiot," Hillary says fiercely. "A complete and total idiot. And if he has any sense at all, he'll spend the rest of his life making this up to you."
"What if I can't forgive him?"
"Then you don't. You deserve better than this, Sus. You deserve someone who chooses you. Every single time."
I close my eyes, and all I can see is Teller at that table. Laughing with those women. Looking relaxed and happy in a way he hasn't looked with me in months.
Maybe he's happier without me.
Maybe I've been holding him back.
Maybe this is for the best.
But if it's for the best, why does it feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest?