Crestfallen [COMPLETED]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ - 22

Joanna

I step into the shower, the hot water cascading over me as I try to wash away the traces of what happened. Of him.

Alex lies in our bed, unaware of where I've been,
of what I've done.

The water pressure increases, the sound growing louder to drown out the sound of my own sobs.

Reality hits me like a freight train, a brutal reminder of what I've done.

I went willingly to another man's bed.
I let him be inside me. That place that only belongs to my husband.

Allowed myself to be consumed by my physical desires.

I surrendered, I crossed a line I never thought I would cross.

Adulteress. The word echoes in my mind, each letter heavy with the weight of my actions.

I stare at my own hands.
The hands of an adulteress.

I never thought I had it in me to cheat, to be unfaithful. But I did.

I gave in to my own desires, and now I'm left grappling with the aftermath.

Misery engulfs me, guilt wraps around me like a suffocation.

I want to scrub away the memory of his touch, to erase the evidence of my own weakness. The water pounds against my skin, but it can't wash away the stain on my conscience.

I shouldn't have done it.

I wrap my arms around my chest as if trying to shield myself from the reality of what I've become.

I'm tired, tired of the choices I've made, tired of the consequences that now bear down on me.

Tired of constantly thinking about Alex, wondering if he remembers me,
if he still cares.

But he doesn't.
He's abandoned me a long time back. It's just me.

Alone. Guilty. Sinful.

I close my eyes. I'm a sinner now, stained by my own actions, and there's no coming back from it.

..............................................................

I tie the robe tighter around my wet body, feeling the weight of the fabric as if it were my own guilt wrapped around me. My skin is still damp, the heat of the shower long gone, leaving a cold, uncomfortable chill in its wake. I lie down on the far side of the bed, my back to Alex, shaking and whimpering quietly. My body is still, but inside, my mind is a storm. The thoughts won’t stop, the guilt won’t ease.

I can feel Alex breathing evenly beside me, completely unaware of the chaos raging inside me. He doesn’t know. How could he? How could he ever guess the weight of my guilt, the sheer magnitude of my shame? I pull the covers tighter around me, curling into myself as if trying to disappear, as if hiding my body will somehow hide my sin.

But it doesn’t. It eats away at me, gnawing at my conscience, keeping me awake long after the night has fallen silent. My eyes burn, my chest aches, and no matter how much I try to calm my breathing, my heart races relentlessly.

The night stretches on, dragging me further into the depths of my own misery. I don’t sleep, not even for a second.

When morning finally arrives, I feel like I’ve been underwater, struggling to come up for air. My body is heavy, exhausted, but my mind is still sharp with the need to confess. I need to tell him. I need to come clean.

I tie the robe tighter around myself as if it's armor and push myself out of the bed. My feet drag as I walk toward the living room, my breath uneven as I rehearse the words in my head. I have to tell him. He needs to know. I need to fix this. I can't live like this half dying with that guilt all my life.

I step into the living room, and see Alex standing by the door, Now’s the moment. I clear my throat, forcing the words out.

"Can we talk, Alex? It’s something I need to tell you. . ." I plea my voice needy.

"It's important. I couldn't just . . ."

He doesn’t even look at me.

"Not now, I really have to rush to the hospital," he says briskly, his voice detached as he pushes the phone back to his ear and pulls on his coat.

He glances at me briefly absently, then back at his phone, all in a second, and my heart sinks into my stomach.

He doesn’t care.

I stand there, frozen, watching him as he walks out the door, leaving me standing in our home, alone with my guilt. Maybe he wouldn’t care if I told him. Maybe he doesn’t want me anymore.

Maybe… maybe he’s already over this marriage. Maybe it doesn’t even matter. The horror of my implications dawn on me as my throat tightens.

................................................................

The thought lingers in my mind like poison, sinking deeper with each passing day as a week passes. I keep waiting for him to ask me, to remember that I needed to talk to him, but he never does. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t bring it up. It’s like I’m not even important enough for him to remember.

Each day that passes feels like a deeper cut, a wound that refuses to heal. I watch him, hoping for a moment where he’ll see me, really see me. But he’s distant, always, by everything but us. By everything but me.

It’s Christmas Eve today, and Alex went to the party hoisted by his self-help group pals this evening.

I stand in a corner, the quiet and the darkness of the house echoing around me. He didn’t even ask if I wanted to come. He didn’t even ask if I wanted to spend Christmas with him. He didn't even consider that holidays are spent with the family. It's like he's forgotten I am his.

I sit alone on the couch, staring at the clock, feeling the emptiness around me. Why is he there with them, instead of here with me?

Maybe because it’s easier for him. Maybe because he doesn’t care anymore. The realization hits me harder than I expect. He would rather be with them than with me.

My mind feels solemn with endlessly unhappy thoughts as if they’re closing in on me, trapping me. I grab my coat and decide to take a walk. Maybe the cold air will clear my mind, maybe the silence of the streets will calm the storm inside me. As I walk through the quiet neighborhood, I see a small family up ahead walking together. A couple and their little boy.

The boy grumbles at his father, curling up in his mother’s arms, but then the man pulls out a candy from his pocket. The boy’s face lights up instantly, and he throws himself into his father’s arms now, beaming with joy. The woman watches them and smiles, her face glowing with warmth and love.

Tears stream down my cheeks before I can stop them. That could’ve been me. That could’ve been us.

I stand there, frozen in place, watching the happy family as they laugh and play, feeling like I’m watching a version of my life that I’ll never have. I blew it. I ruined my chance at happiness.

The tears come faster now, and I turn, rushing back home, my chest aching with the weight of my loss. I slam the door behind me, collapsing in the dark hallway, my sobs breaking free. I cry, loud and raw, the kind of cry that comes from deep within, the kind that shakes your whole body. I ruined everything.

The silence of the house presses down on me, suffocating, and I realize just how alone I really am.

He’s with them. I’m here. Alone. I pull my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth as the tears continue to fall.

I cry for what I lost. I cry for what I ruined. And I cry because, for the first time, I truly understand just how broken things are between us. Maybe Alex doesn’t care anymore. Maybe he’s already given up on me.