I STILL LOVE YOU, BUT...

CHAPTER 1

"I still love you..." It comes out an exhale of breath, a whispery sigh laced with regret and pain, "but I'm just not in love with you anymore...I'm so sorry..."

Colin's jaw is clenched so tight I can see the cord of muscles quiver, strain in his strong neck.

The microwave dings shrilly, startling me.

No point taking out the Chinese fried rice, I think dully. I'm not hungry. I wonder if Colin has eaten. Probably ate with her, whoever she is.

"Baby? Talk to me..." he pleads, his face pale and strained.

I walk to the microwave, press the pop button, and the door swings open with a loud clack. I grab the container of Chinese fried rice, walk back to the sink counter, open the cabinet under it, and dump the entire container with its contents into the trash bin inside.

"Amanda? Talk to me...please, say something --- "

I stalk to the sitting room. Grab the car keys off the console table.

"Amanda." There is a note of panic in his voice. "Where are you going? We have to talk about this --- you can't just leave --- "

I stop. Turn back, stare at him.

"Who is she?"

He swallows.

"Is it Cora?" Cora is Colin's intern at Clayton Construction Inc., the company that Colin founded. She's always flirting with Colin at company parties and functions.

He pinches the bridge of his nose --- a gesture I'm familiar with. He does this when he's nervous.

"What's the point of knowing? It'd only --- only --- make you feel worse -- " he says, and flushes, staring at his feet to avoid looking at me.

"You're not denying it, then. There is someone else." My eyes are welling up with tears.

"Yes --- oh, sweetheart, please don't cry..." his voice breaks. He moves toward me, but I back away, shrinking into the wall behind me.

"How long?" I sob.

"Oh, baby." His eyes are anguished. "Don't do this. You don't need to know. It'll hurt you more, baby, please --- "

"I deserve to know." It's so hard to talk, my throat is choked with tears. "How long have you been --- been --- fucking her behind my back?" I can see the shock in his eyes. I've never cursed before in my life.

"You don't need to know that."

"Do you," I stare into his eyes, the eyes that I love so much, "love her?"

A silence, then, he bows his head, says quietly: "I'm in love with her, yes."

Of course, I think, stricken. He loves me, but he's in love with her. That's the difference.

There's a long, long silence, as we look at each other. He looks broken. What gives him the right to look so sad? He did this to me. He broke my heart. I should be the one dying here, not him.

I can't stand to look at him anymore.

I can't stand to be in this house with him anymore.

I can't stand to be anywhere near him anymore.

"Okay." I whisper.

I have to go. I have to leave. I have to get out of here. Anywhere, where he isn't.

I turn, and then I'm tearing down the hallway.

"Amanda --- wait --- "

But I'm already yanking open the front door, I'm out. I dart into my Toyota Camry. I press the ignition and the engine kindles to life. Slam the door shut. Lock it, just in time. He's here. My cheating husband who's in love with another woman --- maybe Cora --- is here. His hands are fumbling at the door. Open the door, Amanda. Open the door, baby. Please, open the door, he shouts, but I block him out.

Go away. I can't stand to look at you. Go away.

I strap on my safety belt, grip the steering wheel. My hands are trembling. I'm crying. I can't seem to stop crying. I don't want him to see me crying. I know I look pathetic. Stupid. But I can't stop crying. I can't stop the tears from spilling out.

Amanda, stop --- where do you think you're going --- you can't just --- Amanda --- I catch a blurry glimpse of his desperate face, as he rattles the door handle, but it doesn't budge. Tears are streaming down my face, and I dash at them angrily.

I can hear him even though the window is wound up, his shouts muffled by the layer of glass between us. I ignore him.

He's pounding on the glass window now, I shift the car into reverse, and the car barrels past him. I see him jump aside out of the corner of my eye through a blur of tears. He's clutching his foot. Did a tyre run over it? I hope it did. I hope all the bones in his foot break. Shatter into bits and pieces. Like my heart.

I swerve the car sharply into the lane, and floor the accelerator; in an instant, the powerful car shoots forward, and the gravel crunches under the screeching tyres, drowning, momentarily, the loud, harsh sobs raking my body.