3.0 The Chronicles of Us - Choas & Clarity

Chapter four

*♡  Ellie ♡*

Two weeks have gone by since I left the house. Since I left him. I can still hardly believe what my life has become. I've been racking my brain to find any clue that might suggest that he wasn't happy with our marriage anymore, but there is none. Perfect days and tenderly rough nights are all that come to mind. It infuriates me even more. Why would he ruin everything if he was happy with me?

Don't cry!

I clench the sheets again to force the tears back. I don't want to cry anymore. When the shock finally settled and heartbreak brought me to my knees, I cried for three days straight. Maggie and Frank took me in, and I barely left the guest room since.

Tex was here once. I heard him scream at Frank to let him see me, but I stayed hidden. Frank kicked him out. Everything is so messed up right now. He didn't come back after that. He did however call me non-stop for the first three days. I never answered, but I didn't block his number. For some twisted reason I wanted to see how long he would fight for me.

He stopped calling on the fourth day. Not a single word from him then. It made me so mad. Was three days really all the fight I was worth? I almost grabbed my keys to drive over to him to kick and scream, but I didn't.

On the fifth day, he started texting me. Begging me to come home and pleading with me to forgive him. I never replied, but I read all his texts multiple times. He kept it up for a good couple of days before he changed tactics.

On the ninth day he must have figured out that his pleas weren't working, so he started with the confessions of love. He mixed it up a little with long lists of everything he adores about me—little things, big things, things I never knew. Apparently, he loves every freckle that decorates my skin. He said he tried to count them once. That text made me smile and that made me so unbelievably angry. How dare he make me smile after tearing out my heart!

I turned my phone off the same day and when I turned it back on two days later, I had at least a hundred missed messages. He had switched tactics again. Countless love poems filled my inbox. Short ones and long ones. Sad ones and happy ones. Tales from the brokenhearted and deep confession from those in love. I devoured them all. I even looked them up online. Some of them were written by famous poets, but many came from his own mind. With a sigh, I grab my phone and read the last one again.

Roses are dead.

My days are blue.

I can only think of you.

Cliché as fuck.

But know it's true.

Loving you is all I do.

An unwelcome smile threatens to appear. His words warm my bones and I can't accept that. Between all his pleas, confessions, and poems, he never gave me any explanation. Not once did he deny what happened.

Because it's true.

I hate how I'm waiting for his next text to appear on my screen. It's already two in the afternoon and he hasn't sent me anything.

Stupid son of a nutcracker!

I decide to toughen my heart by creating some more scar tissue. I've been torturing myself on a daily basis by watching that awful video. Maybe I'm hoping to find something that tells me it's not real. I haven't found anything, though.