Plain

Chapter Two

I walk through the front door-my heart racing with each step. The house is quiet, too quiet, and I try reassuring myself that it is because Daniel hasn't come home yet. Perhaps he is just finishing something up, maybe he is just out for a bit. I tell myself that when he comes back, we'll talk. I'll be asking him what happened, why, and maybe-just maybe-he will apologize. I can't really go on living my life like this doesn't hurt, but I'd really like to believe that he still cares. I want to believe we can fix this.

But then the door opens, and my breath gets caught in my throat.

It's Daniel. But it's not just Daniel. Veronica is with him.

They're laughing, and as they step through the door, they're kissing. Seeing them, my stomach just drops. His hand is on her back, yanking her close, and in his eyes, it's still there-the same warmth, the same tenderness he used to have for me.

But it's not mine anymore.

I freeze, paralyzed, and wordless. I just watch them as they walk in; I hear their laughter echoing in my ears. I feel my heart ache; my mind racing with the reality of the scene unfolding before my very eyes. This is real. It is not a nightmare.

Veronica pulls away from him, the smile on her face so wide, triumphant, knowing precisely what she had done.

"Well, well, look who's still here," she says with a façade of astonishment. "Did you really think he was going to choose you over me, Emma? How naïve."

Her words seem to cut through the air, and my chest tightens, making me short of breath. The hurt is overwhelming, and for a moment, I don't even grasp what she's saying.

I open my mouth to say something, but the words wouldn't surface. My throat tightened as I gulp hard. What am I even supposed to say? How am I even supposed to fight this?

Veronica looks me up and down, something in her gaze that turns my insides. "You were just a placeholder, weren't you?" she goes on, an edge in her voice. "Keeping things warm while I was busy with him. You're not important to him anymore. You never were."

I flinch, yet don't move. I want to say something-anything-but the words choke in my throat. I can feel her eyes on me, like a predator sizing up its prey.

She steps closer, crossing her arms and looking down at me with a cruel smile. "You don't even know your place, do you? All you are good for now is being at his side in the office. That's it. You are useful there, but that is the only reason you're still in his life.

My stomach churns upon her words. Her words are like a stab, one after another, each sentence a wound, yet I refuse to give her the pleasure of seeing me break. Not now. Not here.

She smirks at me. I feel the anger inside of me rise hot and raw. "Honestly, you should just leave, Emma. You don't belong here anymore. You're just in the way. Go back to doing your little job. That's all you are good for now."

I watch her, my hands shaking at my sides, but I will myself to stay put. The tears prick my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not for her. Not for him.

I turn back to Daniel; my voice is barely above a whisper, but it feels like it carries a thousand emotions. "I can't do this anymore."

And I don't even know if he's hearing me. He doesn't look at me-he looks at her. And that is the hardest part of it all.

I do not know how long I stand, staring at Daniel and Veronica, feeling invisible. The pain is unbearable, my throat tight with emotion I am unable to release. My body shakes, but I force myself to turn away. I couldn't stay in there. I just couldn't stand looking at them anymore, and I needed to get out before I really started breaking down completely.

I don't even think. I grab my coat and leave, stepping into the cold night air without a second glance. The city lights blur around me as I walk aimlessly, my mind a swirling mess of confusion and hurt. It feels like everything I've known is slipping through my fingers, and I don't know how to stop it.

Before I can think, I am standing outside of a club. Neon lights pulse, the bass line of music a pulsing thud in my chest, and it beckons me to lose myself within the crowd. I push through the door, step inside, and the immediate heat and noise envelop me, yet not enough to drown out the thoughts inside my head.

I order one drink from the bar, then another, then another. I am not here to make decisions, to contemplate my future. Just something other than devastation in my chest that will make it easier to breathe.

The alcohol burns, but it's not enough. My thoughts swirl and the disconnection from the reality waiting for me outside starts to inch its way in. My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. I'm done with it all, done caring.

Then, I feel a presence beside me. I turn to my right, not really expecting there to be anyone, but there he is-Simeon. Tall, with keen features and dark eyes, appearing to pierce right through me, yet an undeniable aura of confidence is all around. A stranger, whom I have never seen, yet for some reasons, I am not put off that he is here beside me.

He gives me a small, assessing glance, then leans in a little. "You look like you're running from something," he says, voice low but clear, cutting through the haze in my mind.

I blink, taken aback by his candor. "Maybe I am," I say, unsure why I'm telling this to some random guy. But there's something about the way that he says it-so matter of factly that makes it sound less like it's a question and more like a fact.

He orders a drink, then turns back to me. "Does running work?

I give a half-shrug, uncertain if he's trying to make me think or merely trying to keep the conversation going. Either way, I really don't care. I'm not here for deep conversation, just for the escape.

We sit there in silence for several moments, both of us watching the crowd, the music throbbing through the air. I don't know why I feel comfortable with him, even though I barely know him. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the pain--whatever it is, I am unable to stop myself from leaning into the moment.

Before I know it, he's leaning in closer, his warm breath dancing across my ear. "You're running from something bigger than this night," he says lowly. "But that doesn't mean you can't lose yourself here.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. Right now, I'm too exhausted to care about anything, maybe that's what makes me willing to follow his lead-one reckless decision, one moment where I am not thinking, just feeling. So when he offers me a crooked smile, and then his hand brushes mine, I don't pull away.

And in the blink of a second, we are somewhere darker, out of reach of the loud music and the people. It's impulsive, it's messy, but for once, it's something that lets me forget. The world outside ceases to exist, and there's only this moment with Simeon-a stranger who doesn't need me to be someone else for just now.

After a while, I realize that a man is sitting next to me-a man with a kind face and soft eyes. He smiles, and in his expression, there's this warmth that makes my heart ache a little more. We exchange a few words; somehow, I open up and let the pain spill out in bits and pieces.

He listens, his presence a quiet comfort, and for a moment, the heaviness lifts. His hand brushes mine, soft as the touch might be, a grounding. It's the first kindness I've known in what feels like forever, and I cling to it-anything to remind myself of still being here, of still being whole.

I don't know when it happens, but at some place, he leans in, face close to mine, eyes diving into mine for permission. I bridge the gap, letting myself fall into the kiss, letting the warmth in his touch wash over me-to feel wanted, feel alive again.

In the dim light, he kisses me with passion, his hands dancing across my skin with a tenderness I haven't experienced in so long. For a while, I let myself be with himcompletely allowing the warmth in his touch to drive out the cold ache left by Daniel's betrayal. I lose myself in intimacy, in that sensation of being wanted, desired

But even as passion overcomes me, I am hit by a pang of guilt. I know in the morning, I would have to face the reality of my marriage and the fractured pieces of my heart. Tonight, though, I silence the doubt, let the stranger's embrace drown out everything.

What mattered was that fleeting moment-one of really being seen.