I could barely wrap my mind around it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He’d said forever, the diamond ring sparkling on the fourth finger of my left hand was a constant reminder of that promise, yet he’d thrown that all away. He’d been cheating on me, for months. I’d known about it for at least two, God knows how long it had been going on for before I caught on.
Two years and eleven months we’d been together. From the day we met up until about 4 months ago he’d tell me everyday that I was his “dream come true”, how he could barely breathe without me, that I was the other half of his soul- that I was worth more than the world could ever give him. I guess somewhere in the last few months I’d lost my worth. Maybe he didn’t love me anymore, or he was bored with me. I just wish he would have ended things with me before picking up with someone new- I’m pretty sure that it would have hurt less. It would have killed him to hear him tell me we were done, but now I felt like I was suffocating, being crushed under an invisible weight gasping for breathe, like everything around me was closing in until there was no oxygen or room in my world.
Two years into our relationship he’d surprised me by asking me to be his wife, he’d said I was his forever and that if he couldn’t call me his wife he would never be satisfied. It had been one of the most romantic weekends I’d ever experienced (and there had been quite a few). He’d taken me to Bora Bora where we could escape from the world for a little while and just enjoy each other. Our first night there he’d taken me to dinner at a restaurant right on the beach, and while the sun set he got down on one knee, told me how much he loved me, and asked me to marry him. I can’t think of a time in my life when I was happier. But that’s all over now.
Things changed between us suddenly and without warning. There was no big fight or argument- things had been perfect, or at least they seemed to be, until one night he didn’t come home after a night out with the boys. Usually I would join them but I couldn’t because I had an early meeting the next day that I had to prepare for. I didn’t think much of it- he told me that they’d just stayed out really late and he’d crashed at one of the boys’ place. I dismissed it and didn’t think of it again, but after that night he didn’t come home things began to change between us.
He started being at home less and was always working late or going out with the guys. When he was home he was distant and withdrawn- he barely spoke or listened to me, I was lucky if he even acknowledged my existence. He stopped holding me when we slept, he used to wrap himself around me so tightly it seemed as if we were one person, now he slept on the opposite side of the bed as if he couldn’t be far enough away from me. He stopped telling me that he loved me, stopped giving me little kisses or touching me just because. He never held my hand in public- hell, he barely even wanted to be seen with me in public. He ceased to be the man I fell in love with and had become an empty emotionless shell, at least around me. He was the same around everyone else, but he could barely stand to be in my presence.
I started checking up on him after as he continued to distance himself. Not my proudest moment, but I could shake the feeling that he was cheating on me. I began checking his phone to read his texts, but he must have been deleting them because the texts I’d find in his inbox were always days old. When he started telling me that he’d have to work late every night, I tried to ask him why, but he just yelled at me to mind my own business, so I began following him when he’d leave the house. That’s how I caught him the first time. He’d walked up to her flat and knocked and this stunning brunette answered the door and immediately flung herself into his arms and kissed him passionately. He held her close and kissed her the way he used to kiss me, caressing her sides with his hands. I could barely stand to see it, but the overly familiar way they greeted each other proved to me that this had been going on for some time.
I didn’t confront him with what I’d seen, instead I sat back quietly and hoped that he would tire of her and come back to me. In the interim I tried to be the best fiancé I could be- I’d make sure I’d always have dinner and a cold beer waiting for him when he got home, I worked hard to keep the flat clean (something that I’d not been good at in the past), I bought several sets of lingerie and sexy babydolls that I started wearing to bed and on more than one occasion I tried to initiate sex, but nothing I did was good enough- in fact it seemed to annoy him more.
Today was the final straw though. I’d been at home when the phone rang, what I was told over the phone broke my heart. It was the W in London calling to confirm the reservation of the Honeymoon Suite for the coming weekend. I didn’t even answer the question just hung up and broke down in tears. This weekend was our three year anniversary, but he told me that he had to go out of town and that we wouldn’t be able to do anything to celebrate. But he wasn’t going out of town, he was taking her to a hotel and spending what should have been our weekend together with her in the Honeymoon Suite. The fact that it was the Honeymoon Suite made it hurt even worse, if that was possible, because of what it represented and because of the diamond ring that taunted me from it’s place on my finger.
I tried to call him numerous times after finding out about the reservation but I kept getting voicemail. I finally gave up and curled up in our bed, and gave myself over to tears. I must have cried myself to sleep because when I woke up I had several texts from my friends and the boys, all telling me not to check twitter. And then there was a text from an unknown number, I opened it and what I saw broke my heart. It was a picture of him with her, the man who’d promised to love me forever, that claimed I was the other half of his soul, had been caught standing out in front of the Ivy with his arms wrapped around her waist, lips locked with hers, looking happier than I’d seen him in months.
I could barely breathe as I choked back the sobs that were trying to rip their way out of my body. It became impossible and I sank to the ground, allowing the sobs to overtake my body. I finally realised that he was never going to come back to me, not fully. I didn’t understand why he let things go on with us when he so obviously didn’t want me anymore, so if he wasn’t going to end things I would have to. I’d have to be strong and rip my own heart out so that he couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t be able to breathe without him, but I’d have to learn how, because he no longer wanted forever.
I called a cab and packed my bags. Before I left our world for good I slipped his ring off my finger and left it on the bed with a note. I felt it said all that needed to be said. With that I turned off the lights and slipped away into the night. Leaving behind my aching heart and the promises that had been broken. At least I’d carry with me one small piece of him, something that would remind me of happier times and the life that we had together. A little bit of us- that was my new forever.
His POV
I’d never meant for it to get this out of hand. The first time it happened was a mistake. I’d had too much to drink and was out of my head and didn’t realise what was happening. I’d felt terrible afterwards, so filthy, and no matter how much I tried I couldn’t feel clean. The second time it happened I couldn’t say no and by the third time it was something I craved. Something new and forbidden, I think the fact that it wasn’t allowed or proper made it more desirable. But each time came with a cost, the guilt was overwhelming, I was hurting (Y/N), the one person that I loved the most in this world, willfully. And I couldn’t tell you why I was doing it. I had everything I ever wanted back at our flat, (Y/N) was my forever. I’d known that from the moment I’d met her, and yet this other girl had some kind of hold over me that I couldn’t break.
I knew I was hurting (Y/N), I was withdrawn and irritable when I was home, which was less and less each week, and when I was home I barely acknowledged her. She tried so hard to make things better, she probably felt that it was her fault that she had done something, but the truth was she was perfect and I was the fuck up. I was too weak to end things with the other girl, a girl I didn’t love or care about, just enjoyed fucking. I could see the pain and hurt in (Y/N) eyes every time I looked at her, so soon I stopped looking. I felt sick touching her, contaminating her with my filth, so I stopped holding her when we slept, stopped kissing her, holding her hand- stopped showing her any sort of affection. And the perfect girl that she was, the more I withdrew, the more of her heart and soul she offered to me- even though I refused her every time and broke her a little more each passing day.
But today I was going to make it up to her. I’d told her I was going away for the weekend, but I’d actually booked us the Honeymoon Suite at the W in London, so we could have a time to get away from everything and work out the garbage between us, and if she decided to forgive me I’d spend the rest of the weekend and the rest of my life making it up to her, getting lost in her and worshipping her like she deserved. I’d finally ended things with the other girl, I couldn’t keep hurting (Y/N) and myself for some sex that didn’t even compare with what (Y/N) and I had.
Things went wrong though, I was walking back to our flat to get (Y/N) when the other girl stopped me in front of the Ivy, and begged me to come back with her. She reminded me of how good things were between us, how passionate. And then she kissed me, and for a brief moment I got lost in the kiss and was overwhelmed by her presence and fell back under her spell- until I saw the flash of several cameras and was brought back to reality. I had just been caught kissing a girl that wasn’t (Y/N) in public, and I’m pretty sure I probably looked like I was enjoying it, because I had been. I panicked and pushed the girl away from me, but I knew the damage had been done. I needed to get back to the flat as quickly as possible before (Y/N) saw the photos. I searched my pockets for my phone and realised that I must have left it at the studio, cursing, I quickly hailed a cab and gave him the address to our flat.
Luck was not with me, however, and I got caught in traffic on the way home. When the cab finally reached our neighbourhood, I threw some money at the cabbie and sprinted for our flat. I burst through the door and was met with still darkness. Panic coursed through my veins. I was too late. I threw on the lights and ran through the flat to our bedroom, where my suspicions were confirmed. All of her clothes were gone. And lying in the centre of our bed was the diamond ring I’d given her when I promised her forever. Underneath the ring was an envelope with something long and hard in it, and note that read:
I guess I wasn’t the forever that you wanted after all. It’s okay, I understand. She’s beautiful, and why would you want someone like me when you have her. Even though you’ve ripped my heart to pieces, I still love you. I probably always will. You’ll always be a part of me, because you really were the other half of my soul. But I can’t be your second choice, so I have to let you go, as painful as that is. But I’ll learn to breathe again, because I’m taking a part of you with me, a part of us. This will be my new forever.
I opened the envelope and pulled out a pregnancy test that was positive, and a scan. On the back of the scan it said baby at 9 weeks. Unable to process anything other than the pain ripping through my chest, I sank to my knees and sobbed. My weakness had caused me to lose my forever, the only one I’d ever loved and the perfect child that we’d created before I’d turned my back on that love. Nothing can fix the pain of regret, I only hoped that in time I’d be able to find (Y/N) and convince her to give me a second chance at forever.
- anonymous