The Truth That Breaks [POV: Abigail]
A slow, suffocating weight pressed down on my chest as I stared at Evie, trying to process the words she had just spoken. The world around me faded into the background—the delicate decorations on the dining table, the untouched meal I had carefully prepared, the soft hum of the garden fountain in the distance. Everything blurred into insignificance compared to the suffocating truth settling in my bones.
Evie’s expression was unreadable, but there was something in her eyes that made my stomach twist—a deep sadness, edged with hesitation, as if she was about to say something that would rip my entire world apart.
“I’m only telling you this because I care about you,” she said slowly, her voice carrying the kind of weight that made my skin prickle. “You deserve to know the truth.”
Something inside me clenched. I knew what she was about to say wouldn’t be something I wanted to hear, and for a fleeting second, I considered stopping her. I could pretend I didn’t hear it, that everything was still intact, that my marriage, my life, the choices I had made hadn’t been a mistake.
But I had already been pretending for too long.
So I squared my shoulders and forced my voice to remain steady. “I’m ready,” I said, even though I wasn’t.
Evie hesitated for a moment longer, then exhaled heavily, as if bracing herself. “Vincent… I saw him at a hotel.”
The air in my lungs turned thick and unbreathable. I tightened my grip on the edge of the table, steadying myself against the sudden rush of dizziness washing over me.
I swallowed hard, my mind racing, desperately searching for a rational explanation.
Maybe it was a business meeting. Maybe it was nothing.
I clung to the last bit of hope I had left and asked the question that had haunted me for months. “Was it Hannah?”
Evie’s expression didn’t shift, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something that told me I wasn’t going to like her answer.
“No,” she said carefully, watching me closely. “A different woman. Blonde. Petite.”
My stomach churned.
I released a shaky breath, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in my chest. I latched onto my last fragile thread of denial, grasping for a reality where I hadn’t made the worst mistake of my life.
“Maybe it was someone from the office,” I said, barely convincing myself. “Someone he works with?”
Evie bit her lip, her silence stretching between us like an open wound.
That silence was my answer.
I felt the first crack in my carefully constructed world splinter through my heart.
Evie looked at me, her voice gentle but firm. “That someone is someone he kissed, Aby,” she said softly. “And someone he got a hotel room for.”
A sharp pain shot through my chest, and I let out a quiet, broken breath. The words felt like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs.
This couldn’t be happening.
Not again.
Not after everything I had given up for him.
The betrayal settled deep in my bones, a cold, heavy ache that refused to leave. I had let him back in, convinced myself that he had changed, that he deserved another chance. I had let myself believe that this time would be different.
But it never was.
It never would be.
Evie’s voice softened as she continued, but there was a quiet rage simmering beneath the surface. “I wish I could be wrong,” she admitted, shaking her head. “But the hotel manager there… she’s a family friend. I asked about him.”
I looked at her, my body rigid, my heart hammering against my ribs.
She wasn’t done.
I could tell.
And I didn’t want to hear the rest.
I wanted to scream, to tell her to stop, to let me hold on to whatever was left of my illusion. But I couldn’t. Because deep down, I already knew.
Evie’s eyes darkened, her voice dipping into something colder. “She wasn’t the first girl he brought there, Aby,” she said, her words slicing through me like a blade. “There were many.”
A strangled sound left my throat, something between a gasp and a sob.
I felt my legs wobble beneath me, my hands instinctively moving to cradle my stomach as if protecting the life growing inside me from the weight of this revelation. The baby we had created together. The baby I had sacrificed everything for.
A wave of nausea rolled through me, thick and suffocating.
I had believed him.
I had forgiven him.
I had married him.
And he had lied.
Again.
Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not yet. Not for him.
I inhaled shakily, my body numb, my mind spiraling as I tried to make sense of it all.
Then, in the smallest, most fragile voice I had ever heard come out of myself, I asked, “What do I do now?”
