I heave my worn suitcase onto our unmade bed with a sigh and throw myself down next it. My body suddenly feels heavy and tired as the adrenaline starts to leave me and realisation sets in. My husband has been cheating on me with younger, prettier women for God knows how long, and it’s my fault for not keeping up with his physical standards. My eyes fill with tears as I wonder if things would have been different if I’d just tried harder. But I refuse to let the tears fall where Rhys might catch me. I’ve always been an ugly crier, and not being attractive enough is what got me into this mess in the first place.
I blink away my tears and take a calming breath, then reach for my phone and dial Ivy’s number. It only rings twice before she picks up.
“Tilly? What’s wrong? We’re millennials – we never make phone calls!”
“I didn’t think it would be appropriate to text about the end of my marriage. Felt more like a phone call kind of moment.” Idon’t know how I manage to make light of the situation, but it feels better than real talk right now.
“The signal’s terrible up here, I thought you just said your marriage had ended!” She nervously chuckles.
“It has. I need a place to stay for a while, can I come to yours? I won’t get in the way,” I hurriedly add. Asking for help is difficult enough without the feeling of being a burden on your best friend.
“I’m so sorry, Tilly, I’m not at home! My boss has had to go up to Scotland to sort out some shit in the Edinburgh office and he insisted I go to help.”
My heart sinks to my stomach. I have nowhere to go, and my best friend isn’t around to drag me through this mess.
“Everything’s been such a rush, we only left this morning.”
“It’s okay, Ivy, I’ll just get a room in a hotel or something. I’ll sort it.”
“Don’t you dare! Take my room while I’m away, I’ll be here for at least a couple of weeks. Connor won’t mind, I’ll let him know to expect you.”
Ah, shit. Ivy’s older brother is the last person I want to be alone around right now, with the exception of Rhys, but I’m backed into a corner.
“Are you sure? I honestly don’t mind…”
“Don’t be so ridiculous, you’re not paying for a soulless hotel room when you could be at my house for free. I’ve already messaged Connor.”
“When did you do that?”
“When you were busy overthinking.”
Damn, the girl knows me well.
“Okay, fine, thank you.” I concede with a sigh.
“Look, I have to go, but I’ll videocall you once you’ve had time to settle into the house, okay? We’ll talk it all through.”
“Sounds great.” Sounds like torture, but I appreciate hertrying.
I hang up the phone and turn my attention to the wardrobe. I grab a pair of what Rhys calls my ‘ironic leggings’ – the irony lying in the fact that they’re gym leggings and I don’t go to the gym – and change into them, then pull an old hoodie over my head. It only takes one whiff of Rhys’s overpowering aftershave to realise I’ve changed into one of his by mistake. I tear it away from my body and hurl it across the bedroom. For a second, I consider cutting it up, but I don’t have the energy to be petty right now. Instead, I grab another from the pile, make sure it’s mine and pop it on. I drag my hair back into a claw clip to keep it out of my face, and take a rare look in the mirror.
Look at yourself. This why Rhys cheated, you piece of shit.
Tears threaten again, but I shake them away. The self-loathing can wait another hour until I’m settled at Ivy’s. I quickly turn on an audiobook to drown out the noise of my intrusive thoughts, and start packing my bag. I add a couple of pairs of leggings, some jeans, T-shirts and hoodies as well as some ‘granny pants’ – Rhys’s wording, not mine.
Maybe if you’d invested in some decent underwear this wouldn’t have happened. Then again, why put lipstick on a pig?
I turn up the audiobook a few notches. Toiletries get thrown in haphazardly, my phone charger after them, and a couple of books to keep my mind busy. I’ll come back over the weekend for everything else.
Suitcase zipped up, I turn to lug it off the bed, but my eye falls on the picture I keep on my bedside table. The photo shows me and Rhys at a Halloween party in town. Rhys is dressed as a rugby player, with shorts so tight he had girls eyeing him up all night. I was dressed in what was advertised as a ‘sexy referee’, at Rhys’s insistence. The short, tight dress was a stark contrast to my usual style of ‘clothes so baggy people don’t realise whatshape you actually are’. I felt as if everyone’s eyes were also on me that night, but for a totally different reason to why they were looking at Rhys. I didn’t keep that picture by the side of my bed because I thought I looked good in it, or even because I was particularly happy in it, but more that I felt that my relationship had been in a really strong place at that point. I slip it into my suitcase as a reminder of our previous strength before it all turned to shit.
As I reach the doorway, I take one last look at the room Rhys and I have shared for six years, having moved in together a year into our relationship.
“Bye, bedroom.” I turn and wheel my case down the stairs and towards the front door. I breathe a sigh of relief when I hear the sound of the TV blaring from the living room and know that I’ll be able to escape without anymore drama.
With my hand on the doorknob, I mumble, “Bye, Rhys.”
“Hi, Connor.” I try to put on a brave face when he answers the door, to avoid any uncomfortable conversations.
