Drunken texts

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"Hayat's working under Emré now." The words reverberated through his mind, echoing relentlessly, giving him no peace long after leaving the club.

Murat was absolutely livid when Cagla broke the news to him at the bar. Several glasses of wine had been consumed shortly after, followed by multiple shots of..tequila?! Geez, he felt like a 21 year old kid doing shots again, thanks to Cagla and her friends.

He sat there in bed, staring at the fan going round, unable to think about anything but Hayat working with Emré as his assistant. She'd be in his office. Behind closed doors. The mere thought of that leech anywhere near his wife was driving him insane. Not only had he got Emré kicked out of Sarté, he had then gone on to set up a company where he then began poaching clients from him. This was the kind of man Hayat was going to be working for? And while he had never admitted it to Hayat, he was always uncomfortable with the close proximity he shared with his wife at Sarté.

Before Murat allowed himself to go deeper into the rabbit hole, his head began pounding. That hangover was going to kill him tomorrow, and he had a scheduled catch up meeting with his investors. That morning gym session is so not happening, he grumbled to himself. Cagla had given him some water before leaving his room and left the Nurofen by his table counter which gave him some relief as he finally found sleep.

Murat was abruptly woken up by his alarm and shortly after greeted with a hangover from hell. He was aching all round and the sunlight was hurting his eyes. Ugh! How he wishes he could sleep through the day, but alas! He smiled remembering the last time he had a hangover.

An evening of hosting the top designers of the industry, as his wife played the perfect partner and entertainer. Hosting was by no means an easy (nor cheap!) affair, but it was amazing what you could coerce people in to doing when you get them slightly tipsy. The morning after had been painful and Hayat had brought him her homemade green smoothie to help. He remembers whispering in to Hayat's ear a remedy that would be much more effective to cure his hangover, only to have her look at him scandalously before blushing and grabbing her and pinning her down before she did a runner.

He found himself smiling to himself thinking about his adorable wife before his phone buzzed, bringing him back to the present. He picks up his phone and rubs his eye before checking again. Hayat had texted him?!, he thought excitedly, momentarily forgetting about this mess and eager to hear from his wife.

"You read Vogue now? Did Cagla also recommend the monthly subscription?", her text read.

Ok, now he was confused. What was his crazy wife talking about?! And then he realised as he scrolled up. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! He exclaimed loudly.

"You're working for Emré now? Didn't know you were that desperate for a job."

Realisation dawned on him. He had drunk texted her. FUCK! He didn't even remember sending the text last night. For a split second, he contemplated apologising but honestly, he had meant what he said. He may not have expressed himself the same way sober Murat would but why did she take up a job with Emré of all bloody people?! He had made sure she had access to sufficient funds before going, then why? Was this move purely out of spite as some kind of pathetic revenge? And of course her little dig at Cagla did not go amiss. Murat sighed as he tried to temporarily block this out while he got ready for his catch up meeting.

8:03 AM. Hayat was ready to leave the house for her first day at work. She had struggled getting out of bed that morning and was definitely going to miss her lie-ins. She stared at herself in the mirror, as she realised her blouse and blazer were both a little loose for her. Her erratic eating habits had definitely caused her to lose weight but food had been the least of her worries as of late. Just as she grabbed her phone to put in her bag, she noticed a message. Reading her husband's insinuating text just before she was due to leave for work had her fuming.

Not one word. Not a single 'how are you?'. And now the first thing she hears from him is this. They were mad at each other, sure. But she never expected her husband to take such a tone with her and so she responded and left for her first day feeling complete and utter despair.

Hayat finally made it to work, already emotionally and physically shattered after a two hour commute involving 2 trains and a bus. She looked around when she reached the factory, not convinced she had taken the right step. Breathe, Hayat. Just think about why you're doing this, she convinced herself.

Upon asking for Emré at what can only be described as the tiniest and shadiest reception known to man, Hayat begins to get nervous. Yet when he came down and began explaining training procedures, she couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. She may have been out of practice, but she was soon in her element, with Emré surprisingly helping to put her at ease.

After a long, gruelling day at the factory, it was finally time to go home. Hayat moaned at the thought of her 2 hour journey back home before Emré walks out at the same time.

"Good job today, Hayat. You look like you need a lift home! Perhaps we can stop and grab your favourite mint choc chip ice-cream en route?", Emré asked hopefully.

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