Emma
It's been two weeks since Asher surprised me with our new home and life couldn't be busier. He's been swamped with work as he adjusts to his CEO role, and I'm consumed with the shelter's rebuilding process, along with my current day-to-day activities.
Yet, he's making sure we see each other every day.
With dinner in hand and a smile on his face, he's been coming to my place every day after work to discuss the wedding preparations and to help me pack.
And of course, spend the night.
So, when the clock strikes eight-thirty in the evening without a sign of him, I shoot a concerned text.
ME: Hey! Is everything all right?
After fifteen minutes pass without a reply, I make myself a sandwich and settle into the living room with my Kindle.
I don't remember falling asleep, but at three in the morning, I wake up with a jolt.
"Asher?" I say, looking around.
Did I hear the door? I get up to check, only to realize I'm alone. Frowning, I grab my phone from the coffee table and see I have a message from him from hours ago.
ASHER: Sorry, I got stuck in a meeting and lost track of time. I'm not sure when I'll be done here.
As I head to my room, a weird feeling invades my chest.
Nah, I'm probably just being silly. I think to myself, chalking it up to late-night paranoia.
My alarm goes off at seven, and my eyes widen when I see the sheer number of notifications on my phone. Frowning, I realize a bunch of strangers tagged me on social media.
Curious, I click on one of them and let out a quick breath when I see what is going on.
Pictures of Asher getting in and out of a restaurant with a woman bombard my phone.
The first thing I notice is that the woman in the photos is stunning with her tall, slender figure, flowing blonde hair, and captivating blue eyes. Her curvy silhouette is perfectly accentuated by her elegant dress, and she exudes confidence and allure that it's impossible to miss.
My heart sinks as I scroll through the photos. They are enjoying an intimate moment together, sharing laughs and appearing rather cozy. Asher looks happy and relaxed in the pictures, and the woman seems to be quite familiar with him.
Then I click on the link and it takes me to a gossip blog sporting pictures of Asher and this woman having a drink together. They are sitting close together in front of the window, her hand resting intimately on his forearm.
As I examine the pictures, a sharp pang of jealousy and insecurity courses through me. Who is this woman? Why hadn't Asher mentioned going out with her? Why does he look so comfortable in her company? Is he trying to get back to me after my lunch with Frank the other day?
Clicking on the comment section, I'm met with a ton of speculations regarding Asher's relationship with the woman. The rumors run rampant, with people suggesting that Asher might be cheating or that the nature of his relationship with this woman is more than platonic.
My heart feels heavy as I contemplate what to do next. I debate whether to call Asher, but I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume there must be a reasonable explanation. Maybe they're old friends catching up, or it's a business meeting that I wasn't aware of.
But that doesn't make the knot in my stomach disappear.
Throughout the day, I try to focus on my work at the shelter, but I keep glancing at my phone. I can't help but wonder when Asher will reach out to explain.
By lunch, my patience wears thin, and I send him a message with a link to the pictures.
ME: Care to explain?
He answers a few seconds later.
ASHER: You should know better than to trust what you see online.
ME: Should I, now?
ASHER: Clare works for the international magazine I used to freelance for. She's based in New York too. We happened to be having dinner at the same restaurant, and she invited me for drinks with her colleagues. I thought they'd all go, but they declined, and I didn't want to be rude.
Reading his message brings a mix of frustration and uncertainty. My unease from earlier solidifies into something more potent and it brings me to a dark place I haven't been in a long time.
Deep down, I know I shouldn't jump to conclusions, but the pictures and online comments have triggered a storm of emotion within me.
Knowing I need to focus on the pile of paperwork in front of me, I toss my phone back in my purse and return to work.
*****
Sprawled on my couch, wine in hand, and a decoration magazine forgotten, I resist the urge to go online.
The silence in the room is deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the city outside. I take a sip of my wine, its bitter taste mirroring the bitterness that has seeped into my thoughts.
The images of Asher and that mysterious woman replay in my mind like a relentless loop, intertwining with the echoes of Zack's lies. The memories of his false assurances, the carefully constructed lies, and the unraveling of trust linger in my consciousness.
I hate I became this woman who is defined by the deceit of someone I trusted. But being a reluctant partner in a macabre waltz has left me questioning not just the intentions of others but also my own judgment.
The sound of the bell startles me, and I rush to answer it, my heart pounding with anticipation.
As I swing the door open, I'm met with Asher standing there with a soft, apologetic smile on his face.
"Can I come in?" he asks, and I nod.
The door closes with a soft click, and there's a moment of silence before he turns to me. Without uttering a single word, he reaches for me. His hands find their familiar place around my waist and he pulls me into an embrace.
"This feels good," he murmurs, his hold on me tightening.
Trying to organize my thoughts, I don't say anything as I lean into him.
Eventually, he pulls back a little, his eyes meeting mine. "Are you okay?"
"I thought we were trying to avoid the social media speculations." I tilt my head to the side to study him, noticing how tired he looks.
"Fuck! I hate all of this!" He takes a step back, rubbing his face. "Why are they so goddamn interested in our lives?"
"You and Clare looked really cozy in those pictures..." I cross my arms over my chest. "Maybe we should start with that."
"We worked together for years, Em. I didn't know-"
"Have you guys ever slept together?" I cut him off, and he has the decency to blush.
"Are we talking about people we've slept with now?"
"So, it's a yes." I swallow, hating the ball of insecurity settling in my gut.
"What do you want me to say, Em?" He looks down before meeting my gaze. "We worked together and were on and off for a few years. I hadn't seen her in months before yesterday. Then, as I mentioned earlier, we randomly bumped into each other at the restaurant, and she asked me to join her and her coworkers for drinks. I thought they'd all go, but they turned it down, and I didn't want to be rude."
"And you don't see the irony in that after everything you told me about Frank the other day?"
"You work with the guy." He scoffs. "It's different. I was just being polite."
"Did you tell her you are engaged?"
He shakes his head. "What do you think?"
Taking a deep breath, I try to calm the storm of emotions bubbling within me. "I think that if we're trying to portray the image of a happy couple, we shouldn't be seen having cozy dinner dates with other people."
"Are you serious right now?"
"You said you wanted a new image." I shrug. "Have you seen the number of pictures they got from you with other women?"
"Pictures from when you and I were not together," he says, his eyes narrowing. "What the hell are you getting at, Em?"
"Where did you sleep last night?" The words leave my mouth in a rush, and he takes a step back as if I've slapped him. The part of me that loves him wants to take it back, but the part of me that has been cheated on, abused, and humiliated needs to know.
"Where do you think I've slept last night?" he asks, and I close my eyes. I've heard these exact same words before. It's the same familiar script Zack would use after he bailed on me to go God knows where.
"Just tell me," I whisper.
His eye narrows, and his mouth falls open. There's a hint of defiance and hurt in his face that makes me pause.
But then he speaks and every word that leaves his mouth breaks something inside me. "I told you exactly what happened yesterday." He crosses his arms, his eyes cold.
"And you expect me to be okay with you ditching me to be with another woman?" I fold my arms, a mix of hurt and frustration washing over me.
He runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath before looking at me. "So you're the only one allowed to go out with your exes?"
"Nothing has happened between Frank and me. We broke up way before you came back." I emphasize each word, trying to assert the truth.
"So, it gives you the right to make half-ass accusations?"
"I would never cheat on you."
His eyes widen. "You think I cheated on you?"
"Why can't you just tell-"
"Do you really believe I slept with her?"
Asher's question hangs heavy in the air.
My eyes water and the tears I was trying to hold inside fall freely now. I've been here before. The deflections. The accusations. The sharp turn from a conversation about trust to a battleground of insecurities.
Closing my eyes, I try to steady the storm raging within me. "I don't know what to believe anymore," I whisper, vulnerability seeping through my words, naked and unfiltered.
His gaze softens for a moment, a flicker of something resembling remorse crossing his face. But it's fleeting, replaced by the defensiveness that has defined our conversation since he got here.
"This is ridiculous," he scoffs, a bitter edge to his tone. "I can't deal with baseless accusations."
"They're not baseless," I retort, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "I saw the pictures, Asher. You can't just dismiss that."
"You should know better than everyone that they don't tell the whole story," he snaps back, his jaw clenched.
"Then tell me the whole story! Explain why you were cozying up to another woman, why you didn't mention it, why you chose to ditch me for her." The questions spill out, each word pleading for the truth.
He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "I didn't think it was a big deal. I didn't know it would turn into this."
"This? This is us trying to communicate, Asher. This is me trying to understand what the hell is happening," I say, my voice rising with a mix of desperation and anger.
He takes a step back as if the intensity of the conversation is too much to bear. "What's the point of communicating when you don't trust me?"
When I don't say anything, he turns to leave and my heart breaks all over again. We've been here before. And I hate I don't know how to stop it.
"So you're just going to leave again," I call after him, my voice cracking.
He doesn't respond, disappearing through the door without a backward glance.
_____
A/N: Oh boy! What now, guys?
Thank you so much for your support! It means the world to me! <3
XOXO
Celeste