Juliette

I didn’t look at him when he walked in.

I didn't acknowledge his presence even the slightest bit. I simply carried on brushing my hair like I hadn’t heard the door open, like my body hadn't tensed the second I'd gotten a whiff of his cologne. He always walked like he owned every space he entered. Even now—after everything—he still stood in our room like he belonged in it.

Or was I the one who no longer belonged in it?

I caught his reflection in the dressing mirror. His shirt was wrinkled. His tie was gone. His eyes... were fixed on me. Watching me the way you watch a fire when you’re not sure if it’s dying down or about to escalate. I turned and darted a glance his way, when I would have given him a hug and a kiss in the past. The gesture was enough to send a message that I couldn't care less anymore after what he'd done.

I turned my head back to the mirror, going right back to pretending he wasn’t there. I rounded the bed, carefully stepping past him as I headed for my wardrobe. I pulled open a drawer and picked out a sleep shirt, hanging it over my arm. I was still moving around the bed when he stepped forward.

“Juliette—”

I raised my hand to stop him mid sentence, unwilling to listen to whatever it was he had to say. He stopped talking, the twitch of his jaw a telltale sign that he wasn't at all pleased with my brush off. If there was one thing Damien hated, it was being silenced. Right now, I didn't give a damn what he wanted.

“I just need to explain,” he said finally, his voice softer this time. Again, I ignored him. I pressed my lips together, grabbing a pillow and leaving the room. If I stayed... I was going to say something I couldn’t take back. Or worse, cry in front of him. I moved to the kitchen to grab a bag of chips and soda before heading for the couch. I ripped open the bag of chips I honestly didn't really want, and then cracked open the soda.

I leaned forward and turned on the tv, more for background noise than anything else. I needed anything to make the silence less unbearable. I looked down into my bag of chips, and when I looked back up, that's when I saw it. It was a picture of Damien in some bar, with a woman I’ve never seen before. She was giving him a coy smile and leaning in close. I studied the expression on his face, noted how he wasn't in a hurry to turn down her obvious offer.

Let her know he was married.

My stomach dropped. I blinked once. Twice. The screen didn’t change. It was real. The betrayal didn’t just creep in. It tore through me. My throat closed up. My chest tightened. My hands went numb even as they clenched tighter around the soda can. The first tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it, and then another. And another. I didn’t even try to wipe them away. I sat there, completely still, while my world cracked under me.

And then—

Footsteps.

I scrubbed at my face with both hands and bolted into the kitchen. I couldn’t let him see me like this. Couldn't let him see just how much all this was getting to me. I stood in the kitchen, my hands braced on the counter, breathing like I’d just run a mile. I felt his gaze digging into my back as he silently followed me into the kitchen. “It’s not what you think.”

I turned sharply. “It’s not what I think?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. Defensive already. I stepped forward, the can still in my hand, my grip now white-knuckled. “It’s not what I think? Because I think it’s exactly what I think, Damien. I know it is exactly what I think. You’re throwing our marriage away, forgetting the vows you made, and here I thought you were a man of your words." His eyes flashed angrily at my words and the venom in my tone.

“If you’d just sign the damn divorce papers, Juliette, there wouldn’t be a marriage left to throw away.”

His words stunned me into silence.

I stared at him, trying to breathe through the gaping wound he’d just torn open. “Wow,” I finally said after a while, my voice rough and thick. I wiped my face roughly with the back of my hand, like that could erase how much he still got to me. “So that’s it? You really think you can just toss me aside after everything I’ve done for you? After all the sacrifices I've made?”

He didn’t answer, and his silence only increased my anger.

“You think I’m just going to sit here while you sleep with whatever new thing walks your way?” I took another step forward, my voice rising.

He gritted his teeth, his jaws flexing. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

I stared him down, the tears on my cheesk hot and unchecked. I lowered my voice to a men whisper. “It means if you can fuck other women, I sure as hell can fuck other men.”

A nerve threatened to pop in his neck. A second later he was storming out of the kitchen, punching the wall and cursing loudly as he rounded the corner. I heard the bedroom door slam shut. And that’s when my knees gave out. I sank to the cold tile floor; my back against the cabinets, the soda can rolling somewhere across the room. I curled in on myself, not caring about the cold or the mess I'd made with the drink, or the emptiness swallowing the room whole.

Because that was the moment it hit me.

It was really over.

And I didn’t know how to survive it.