Chapter 1
My boyfriend and his so–called “sister” checked into a hotel and got caught during a prostitution sting operation.
When I went to bail him out, he had
hickeys all over his neck and was busy comforting her while she sobbed into her hands.
“Her apartment‘ s lock broke, and she was so scared, so I stayed with her,” he
said.
If this had been before, I would‘ ve flipped out and demanded answers.
But this time, I didn’t want to play the jealous, crazy girlfriend anymore.
I calmly signed the release papers and didn’t say a word.
My friend from the operation team asked,
“Family?”
I shook my head. “Just neighbors.”
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Then I looked down and texted my mom.
[That arranged marriage you mentioned? Fine, I’ll do it. Give me three days, and I’ll come home.]
When we left the station, Gwyneth Averill, still sniffling, climbed into the passenger seat of my car.
I didn’t feel like arguing, so I started the car. Just as I put my hand on the wheel, she grabbed my arm.
Except, she wasn‘ t looking at me. She turned to my boyfriend Gerard Morgenthal instead.
“I’m scared. I don‘
t like riding in
someone else’s car,”
she said,
she said, her eyes
filled with tears, her nose red. She looked
like the very definition of helpless.
I pulled her hand off me. “Then get out.”
The air in the car instantly froze until Gwyneth’s tears spilled over, and she
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started crying.
From the backseat, Gerard‘ s voice came
sharp.
“Yvaine, do you always have to be so
harsh? You know she’s traumatized
because of her brother‘ s situation. Can‘ t you just be a little considerate?” he snapped. “Get out. I‘ Il drive.”
Before I could respond, he got out, yanked open my door so hard that it rattled, and let the freezing wind rush in.
I shivered but didn’t move, just sat there
and stared at him.
The always–calm Gerard was suddenly rough and impatient. He actually unbuckled my seatbelt and dragged me out
of the car.
I stumbled, nearly falling to my knees, but managed to catch myself.
Without looking at me, he slid into the driver’s seat and leaned over to gently
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🙂)
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started crying.
From the backseat, Gerard‘ s voice came sharp.
“Yvaine, do you always have to be so
harsh? You know she‘ s traumatized because of her brother‘ s situation. Can’t you just be a little considerate?” he snapped. “Get out. I’ll drive.”
Before I could respond, he got out, yanked open my door so hard that it rattled, and let the freezing wind rush in.
I shivered but didn’t move, just sat there and stared at him.
The always–calm Gerard was suddenly rough and impatient. He actually unbuckled my seatbelt and dragged me out of the car.
I stumbled, nearly falling to my knees, but managed to catch myself.
Without looking at me, he slid into the driver’s seat and leaned over to gently
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touch Gwyneth‘ s hair. “Hush now. I‘ 11 take you home first.”
“Oh, Gerard, you‘ re so good to me!” Gwyneth said, throwing me a smug little look.
Before he drove off, Gerard left me with one sentence. “You‘ re an adult. Figure out your own way home. I’ll be back after I drop her off.”
I stood there, frozen, as their car sped away. Before they turned the corner, I saw
that bitch lean over and kiss his cheek.
Just then, my phone buzzed, and I picked it up with my fingers still stiff.
“Sweetheart, did you see Glenn‘ s photo?”
Glenn London–the guy my mom wanted
me to marry.
Tall and good–looking.
On the other end, my mom sounded
relieved.
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“Oh, sweetheart, you‘ re finally growing up. Your dad’s getting old. Over the years, he’s been furious about you running away from home. It’s good that you‘ re coming back.”
I looked up at the insects buzzing around the streetlight, my thoughts scattered.
I ran away all those years ago because I didn’t want this kind of life.
Then I met Gerard, and for a while, I thought I’d hit the jackpot.
Seven years. I stood by him through everything from nothing to something.
But every time I brought up the future, he’d just say, “It’s too soon.” I had quietly terminated my pregnancies because of that. More than once.
I was so naive, thinking his love alone. would be enough.
But now, I can’t take it anymore.
In the end, I took a cab home.
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Gerard must‘ ve felt guilty because he came home not long after.
He walked in just as I was packing my things. Clothes were out of my wardrobe- most of them stuffed into bags already.
“Why are you packing your clothes?” he asked, looking uncertain.
“Decluttering,” I said flatly, hoping he’d just take a shower.
The cloying scent of perfume on him made.
me feel nauseous.
He hesitated for a moment, not sensing anything amiss, and continued talking to himself.
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