Camille's POVI was packing all my clothes to prepare to leave the house that I loved before. I had already talked to my parents about Helen and me. My dad was so furious and wanted to confront Helen, but my mom and I stopped him before he could go to jail. He wanted me to get a divorce, but I told them my plan. My mom agreed with me but was devastated about what Helen did. She loves my wife too, and treated her like her own daughter. She was shocked and couldn't believe that Helen had done that to me and us.
At first, my dad doesn't like the idea. He hates cheaters and homewreckers. He believes that they are the true evil lurking around in this world. He always told us that he would rather accept the LGBT community than breathe the same air as those cheaters and homewreckers. That's why he loved me more after I told them that I was gay. I talked to him until he agreed with me.
I was confused. My heart is so heavy, when I am thinking of leaving this house temporarily. My head tells me to hate this place, but my gut tells me to accept the truth that I love this place.
"Mom?" Nicole called.
"Yes, honey?" I said when I was done packing.
"Are you leaving us?"
"No, honey. My apartment is near at my work. You can go and sleep there anytime you want. I want to think without seeing around your mother." I said while caressing her head.
"What happened? Even before you argued, you never did this." She points to my things.
I half smiled at her. "Sorry, honey. Mom needs time and space. If you want the truth, ask your mother, she had more rights to tell it to you more than me."
She sadly sighed. "I tried it before, but she never answers me properly. She always changes the topic."
"She'll tell it to you...soon. She just shy about it." Then I pick up my baggage bag, and Nicole helps me pick up the other. We go downstairs and put my things in the back of my car.
"I'll go sleepover there, mom."
"Of course, honey, just for you." I kissed her temple and hugged her. "Call me If you need anything. But I'll call you daily, I promise."
"I'll wait, mom."
I nodded at her and said goodbye. I drove away to our house. I'm glad Helen is not there, or we will fight again to stop me. Thanks to Jennifer for helping me this day. She makes sure Helen will be occupied this day.
I received a text from Jennifer saying that Helen was on her way to our house. I sigh in relief. Thank you, mom, for this.
When I was at my apartment, I immediately got in. It was the right size for me, but it still looked expensive.
I was busy putting my things in a proper place. My phone kept ringing, I looked at it, and it was Helen.
I didn't bother to answer it and continued what I was doing. I'm glad that Jennifer put everything I needed. She prepared it just for me. I texted her a thank you for this.
I heard a knock on her door. I smiled and ran toward the door to open it.
"Hi babe. I bought your favorite fried chicken and beers," Beth said and got in. I locked the door and smelled the mouth-watery fresh, cooked fried chicken.
"You're the best!" I excitedly open the box of chicken.
"Not bad. Your mother-in-law is good at picking the best things. Sadly, her daughter is not." Beth said while looking around my apartment.
I just laughed it off while taking a bite of the thigh part of the fried chicken. It was so crispy and juicy, and I moaned. This is the best fried chicken ever.
"Hey! Don't eat it all. Share it with me," Beth exclaimed while grabbing one piece of fried chicken.
"I think this is not enough. I didn't eat much at our house. It was hard to swallow my food in front of Helen."
"Then I'll call for delivery. Just tell me how many boxes. It's my treat."
"Thank you, babe." I hug her.
"Don't forgive that bitch so easily. She must feel what you feel for hurting you," Beth smirked, opened a can of beer, and drank it.
"Let her be. If she wants to cheat again while I'm away, so be it. I don't care anymore. Even I still love her."
"That's my girl." We high-fived each other and laughed. They kept eating and drinking until their food and beer were all gone.
Another knock was heard at my door. Beth happily opened it. It was George. He has two other boxes of fried chicken and beers, then two boxes of pizza.
"My wife here keeps bugging me to bring you these. I'm hungry too, so I bought many." George smiled while opening the boxes.
"You both are the best." I'm so happy right now and hug them both.
We keep talking and laughing like teenagers. It brings us back like we were young. We're free and enjoying life, while being an adult is stressful and has many responsibilities.
Beth is utterly drunk while George keeps sober because he knows this will happen, and he's the one who will drive them home.
They said goodbye. It was 11p.m, I was drunk too, so I laid on my bed. My phone rang again, and I lazily answered it.
"Where are you?!" Helen yelled.
I laughed. Her angry voice sounds so sexy. "My new home."
"God! Why didn't you tell me?!"
"Pfft! Since when did you care, BABY." I mocked.
"Damn it, Cam! I want to fix my mistake. But I can't fix it without you here with me!"
"Fix things? You can fix it if you try, even if I'm not with you. Why can't you do it? Or maybe you are afraid to cheat again and get lost in another temptation again?" I cooed to her.
The phone was silent for a minute. "No, I'm not afraid of that."
"Then what for?"
"I'm afraid that you might find someone else and...and you won't come back to me. I'm so afraid to lose you now, Cam." Her voice let out a painful sob.
I was taken back to her answer. I was speechless. My heart was beating so fast.
I didn't even notice that I was crying now.
"Please, Cam...Would you please come back to me? I love you so much, honey." She was now crying.
Again I couldn't speak. I ended the call without answering her. I'm afraid of my feelings now; I know they might betray me. I silently cried at my bed, feeling cold for being alone tonight.
YOU ARE READING
Let Me Be (Lesbian Story)
General Fiction•UNEDITED• A broken marriage because of betrayal. © Copyright 2020 All Rights Reserved I do not allow my work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.