A rush of anger catapulted through Zola. ‘I didn’t sleep with him, just to be clear. And I took some time out. I thought we worked through it, Curtis. We were trying. I was trying! I put so much effort into fixing us, and slowly, but surely, you simply went back to the way you were!’
‘I fucking tried too! How do you think it made me feel, Zo? You humiliated me!’ he yelled.
‘And now you have done it back! I know exactly how you fucking felt, Curtis!’
There was a deafening silence between them. Zola could hear the sound of herself trying to catch a breath.
‘Look, I’m sorry, babe. I’m so sorry, but it’s hard. I’ve been here alone. You speak to me like shit when you call. And .?.?.’
Zola shook her head. ‘I haven’t even been away a full week! And you don’t want to speak to me when I fucking call!’ she exploded. ‘I’m here trying to earn us money for a nice fucking life, while you play video games, hang out training at the gym and now fuck random girls!’
‘I know!’ He broke down.
Zola held the phone away from her face again, still working out how she should deal with this.
‘You know, at least I’ve told you straight away. As soon as she left, I knew it was wrong. I knew I had to tell you. I’m not like that fucking Philip, parading some girl around town just to cause a scene.’
Zola paused. ‘What are you talking about? What about Philip?’ She stood up, feeling her legs tremble.
‘I saw him in the paper the other day with some new girl he’s dating. Apparently her dad’s some rich footballer. You didn’t know?’
‘No,’ she replied softly, glancing towards the door.
‘Look, how do I fix this, Zo? Tell me, I’ll do anything,’ he continued.
Zola sighed, exasperated. ‘I don’t think there’s anything to fix. I’m done with this. I need space. I need to concentrate on this deal. I’m over here to work and I can’t handle this right now.’
Curtis began stammering. ‘No, no. I’ll come to you then. I’ll find you, we can talk. I need to sort this.’
‘Come to me?’ She laughed. ‘You don’t fucking listen enough to know where I am to find me, Curtis. And even if you did, you’re not welcome.’
‘Zola, we need to talk face-to-face. I have to see you.’ There was a ripple of anger edging through his tone.
‘I’ll be in touch to sort out the house,’ she snapped. ‘But I can’t talk to you right now. I can’t believe you’ve done this,’ she admitted, feeling the reality beginning to sink in.
‘Is that it? Surely you have something more to say? Zola, I will do anything.’
‘Thank you for being honest with me. I appreciate it.’ A shaky breath departed her body. She felt a stab in her heart and bent over in pain.
‘No, no, Zola!’
She cut off the call. Tears streamed down her face as she lowered herself into a ball on the floor, where she found she couldn’t stop weeping.
*
Zola lay there on her bedroom floor, crying and shaking for what seemed like an eternity. Then she heard one of the apartment’s doors shut, making her sit up. She stumbled to her feet and peered into the hall, then she heard the lift door close. She looked at her watch: seven thirty. Ella must be heading out on her run, she thought.
She headed into the kitchen, put the kettle on and made a coffee. Her head was pounding from all the crying, and she felt sick and empty. She sat on one of the breakfast bar stools, her mind racing with questions she wished she’d asked Curtis.Who was this girl? How long had he known her? Was she a total random? Did she know about Zola?Each time she wanted to call, something inside stopped her. She knew this was unfixable. She knew the damage had been done.
Zola headed over to the window and gazed out. Far below, she spotted Ella running along the Hudson River, only recognisable from that height by her cute lululemon bow. She felt a soft smile spread across her face as she watched her friend’s peaceful momentum through the city.
Then she remembered Curtis bringing up Philip. ‘Fuck.’ A stab of anxiety sent her diving towards the laptop on the coffee table. She typed into Google:Philip Khan’s new girlfriend. The screen quickly filled with paparazzi photos from the past few days. The girl’s name was Erin Cook, and she was a twenty-three-year-old influencer. One picture showed them totally glammed up at the Pride of Britain Awards dinner; another was of them cosying up for a movie night, which seemed to have been taken from her Instagram. Zola shook her head in disgust. Philip had always been private about Ella, keeping her out of the limelight, but only a few days after she was gone, Erin was taking pride of place on his arm in every newspaper and gossip site in the country.
Zola bit her nails. The girls didn’t keep secrets, but she knew how important today was for them. And she didn’t want to hurt Ella, who was handling the Philip breakup remarkably well. Zola closed the laptop and went into Katy’s bedroom, stepping over the clutter of discarded clothes and toiletries.
‘The mess,’ Zola muttered under her breath.
‘Urgh. Have I slept in again?’ Katy mumbled, attempting to sit up with a makeup-stained eye mask tilted across one eye.
