Confused

Louis' POV

I signed the papers.

The pen in my hand felt heavier than it should have like it was pressing the weight of the entire world onto me. My heart screamed at me to stop, to think, but my hand moved on autopilot, numb, detached from everything I thought I knew.

I would have done anything for her. Anything.

But not this.

Not something I would spend the rest of my life regretting.

“I can’t do this!” I shouted, the words ripping from my throat before I could stop them. In a wild burst of anger, I tore the paper in half, the sound splitting the tense air like a thunderclap.

“We’ll make this work!” I said, trying begging to find some spark of hope, a desperate smile pulling at my lips. But she wasn’t smiling. She looked like she wanted to claw my eyes out. Hatred practically rolled off her in waves.

Her hands flew over her phone screen, her jaw tight. She shoved it in my face.

"I'm done! Why don't you get it? There was nothing between us at the start, and there’s still nothing now. So let's just end this. Marry my sister. It'll make everyone happy."

The words burned into me.

I stared at her, hollowed out, feeling like a man who had just been shot but was too stunned to fall.

She typed again, every tap like a gunshot.

"I won't be going home with you. I'm sleeping at Samuel's tonight."

Then she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there like a fool. Dave stayed silent, just watching the entire thing unfold like it wasn’t my life falling apart right in front of him.

I gripped my phone so tightly it cracked in my palm. With a roar, I hurled it across the room. It exploded into pieces against the wall, the noise loud and ugly. I spun toward the window, ready to smash it too, but Dave grabbed me, pulling me back.

“Sir, calm down! Please!” he said, struggling to hold me.

I could barely see straight. My chest heaved. Anger, betrayal, disbelief it all tangled together into something raw and vicious.

“Look at that!” I shouted, jerking toward the door where she had left. “She told me to my face that she’s going to her boyfriend’s place! To my face! The audacity! How dare she?!”

I tried to rip free from Dave’s grip. “I’m going after her. I’m not letting her go!”

“You’ll only make it worse,” Dave said, firm. “Let her be. It’s not worth it, boss.”

I shook with the effort of holding myself together.

Dave placed a hand on my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. Let's get a drink. Cool your head."

I didn’t argue. I had nothing left in me to argue.

As we exited through the back hallway of the hospital, the universe decided to spit in my face again. Right there, under the dim parking lot lights, I saw them.

Her.

Samuel.

In his car.

Kissing.

Touching.

Her head thrown back in laughter. His hand sliding up her side God knows where else he touched her.

I saw red.

Before Dave could stop me, I bolted toward them, a hammer clenched in my hand from a worker’s forgotten toolbox. I didn’t even remember picking it up. I just wanted to smash that car window, drag him out by his damn throat, and remind him who she belonged to.

“Boss, NO! This isn’t the way!” Dave bellowed, wrestling the hammer from me just in time.

I stood there, fists trembling, as Samuel’s car pulled away, her silhouette still visible through the tinted windows.

She didn’t even glance back.

The final nail in the coffin.

“Let’s just go drink,” I muttered, my voice dead.

And I drank.

I drank until the room spun and the noise in my head dulled into a numb, heavy fog. I had promised myself I would stay clean no stupid decisions, no losing control. I had even bought medication to help with my self-control, to help me stay chaste and sane.

But all those promises unraveled the moment I saw her.

She walked toward me, wearing a tight, almost scandalous dress that left little to the imagination. She smiled that smile that had once made my knees weak and pressed her lips to mine.

I don’t remember much after that.

Maybe I didn’t want to.

Somehow, we ended up in our house, in my bed.

Clothes scattered.

Bodies tangled.

And for a brief, broken moment, I convinced myself maybe just maybe this could fix us.

Maybe this could bring her to me.

The next morning, reality slammed into me with a vengeance.

My skull felt like it was splitting in half. I groaned, running a hand over my face as I forced myself to sit up. The room was still dim, curtains pulled shut, the heavy scent of last night’s mistakes clinging to the air.

I turned over.

She was still asleep peaceful, almost angelic.

I need to be a good man, I thought.

I’ll make her breakfast. I’ll do everything right this time.

Dragging myself into the kitchen, I fought through the headache and the nausea to cook something. It wasn’t perfect hell, it barely even looked edible but it was made with my whole damn heart.

I balanced the tray carefully as I made my way back to the bedroom.

And then everything shattered.

The tray slipped from my hands, crashing to the floor with a loud bang.

Because the woman sitting up in my bed smiling sweetly at me wasn’t my wife.

It was Erica.

Erica.

Wearing nothing but one of my shirts, her hair a wild mess, her eyes glinting with something dangerous.

“I enjoyed last night,” she said with a sly smile, standing up and stretching like a satisfied cat.

She moved closer, trying to kiss me.

I stumbled back, heart hammering in my chest, bile rising in my throat. I scrubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, praying I was still drunk, hallucinating anything but this.

Because the woman I had slept with last night I could have sworn it was her.

My wife.

How the hell was it Erica?