A Work In Progress

Chapter 1: That Bitter Taste

"Alex! Wait—!" His breathless voice desperately called out as he fumbled to pull his jeans on, chasing after the pissed off blonde in front of him as she made her way down the stairs.
"Alex—! Wait! I can explain—!"

Despite his efforts, Alex couldn't hear him, or more so... she refused to. Her vision blurred with salty tears and her fingernails dug into the palm of her hand as it shook violently out of anger.

After all, how else are you supposed to react after finding your fiancé of 7 years tangled up with your co worker?

"A-Alex!" Trent continued to call, finally making his way to the top of the staircase, his face flushed and sweaty in panic, embarrassment and... exhaustion. "Are you seriously just going to walk out? Without even letting me explain myself?" His dark eyes narrowed as he watched her grab her bag off the bannister and shakily reach for the door handle. His embarrassment curdled into anger— a pathetic excuse to defend his adultery.

Her slender fingers wrapped around the front door handle, pausing, as if she was debating her actions.

"Eat shit." Alex spat through gritted teeth before pulling down the handle, opening the door and stepping outside.

The cool September evening air hit her watery eyes like a whip, causing tears to roll down her cheeks and down her neck. A bitter taste began to uncurl in her mouth, one that tasted of both heartbreak and betrayal. Taking the cuff of her sleeve, she wiped her eyes and took in a deep breath to steady her nerves. She took a step forward, a step so heavy she felt like she had weights tied to the sole of her shoe. She took another step... and another...

She could do this.

Without realising, she made her way to the train station, as if her body was on autopilot. Alex paused for a moment, processing what had just happened, wondering if this was real or just a bad dream that she would soon wake up from. A bad dream that would undoubtedly leave her pissed off at Trent in the morning, causing him to jab at her like he usually would, asking her "What's wrong with you now?"

But it wasn't. This was real.

She pulled out her phone, her hands still shaking from adrenaline as she unlocked the device and pressed "Call" on her Mum's contact profile. The sound of the phone ringing began to drown out the faint sound of crickets in the grass nearby and the faint hum of cars in the distance.

Alex's anxiety only grew with every ring. What would she say? What would her mum say? Her stomach twisted tighter with each second that passed and her heart began to thump wildly in her eardrums. She hadn't spoken to her in over a year, and here she was— calling her mum in a flood of tears and desperate for comfort she wasn't sure she even deserved.

She pulled her phone away from her ear, shaking her head slightly as if to remind herself she was better than this, that she wasn't the type of person to come running home crying when things went south. Her thumb hovered over the "end call" button.

Until suddenly, a familiar voice cut through her internal battle.

"Alexa...?"

A shaky breath of relief escaped Alex's lips the moment she heard her voice. It was her mother. It was home. And, as if a dam had broken, Alex's quiet sobs turned into a wail of grief and despair. Her heartache as clear as day coming through on the other side of the phone. Her mum didn't need to ask what had happened. Call it "mother's instinct." There was a small rustle on the other end of the phone followed by a sharp inhale.

"I told you he was an assho-"

"Mum! Not now, please!" Alex's voice cut her off like a vice, her voice shaky from the spilled tears. Her hand immediately reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Can you just... make up the sofa for tonight? I'll figure out what I'm doing tomorrow morning and I'll be out of your hair. Promise."

There was a brief moment of silence that caused Alex to vividly imagine her mother biting her tongue on the other side of the phone. Her mother had always had a sharp tongue, one that Alex (undoubtedly) inherited from her.

"I'll see you in a bit..." Another pause, this time, followed by a soft sigh. "I'll get Dad to pick you up from the station."

"Thank you..." she whispered, just enough for the microphone to catch, her voice breaking slightly.

After what felt like an eternity, the phone call ended with a soft click.

Alex wiped the tears from her swollen blue eyes, drawing in a shaky breath that rattled her chest. It had just dawned on Alex that she had done two scary things in the space of an hour: walking out on her (now ex) fiancé... and having a conversation with her mother.