Between the desks

Chapter 57

Amren's POV 

The moment I got home, the weight of the day settled over me like a suffocating blanket. My mind was racing, my thoughts tangled with emotions I couldn't fully understand, but I knew I needed to get them out. The only way I could deal with what I was feeling was by writing it down—the words I could never say out loud, the things that clawed at me from the inside. I needed to let it all spill out onto the page, to make sense of the storm inside me.

I headed to the kitchen and made some strong coffee, knowing it would be a long night. The dark brew was my fuel, my way of keeping myself awake and alert as I faced the turmoil that had been building up for weeks. I grabbed my laptop and sat at the small desk in the corner of the living room, fingers hovering over the keys. At first, the words didn't come. It was like trying to force water from a stone. But after a few long sips of coffee and staring at the blinking cursor, the dam broke. I started typing, slowly at first, but soon the words began to flow.

It wasn't easy. Every sentence felt like pulling something raw out of me, like I was peeling back layers of skin to expose the wounds underneath. I typed about the things I couldn't say to anyone else—the confusion, the guilt, the aching desire for something or someone I couldn't have. Tears welled up in my eyes as I wrote. It was harder than I thought, confronting these feelings, naming the things that scared me the most. The truth that I had been hiding even from myself was staring at me in black and white.

Hours passed. I didn't notice the time slipping by. I was lost in the emotions, in the honesty of my words, when my phone buzzed. It startled me out of my trance. My hands stilled on the keyboard, and I reached for my phone, heart already sinking because I had a feeling about who it might be.

It was Jess.

The text was short, but it hit me like a punch to the gut.

Jess: We need to talk.

A chill ran down my spine. There was a seriousness to her words that I couldn't ignore. I hadn't seen her since she went away a few days ago. I gave her space, thinking she just needed time, that she'd come back when she was ready. But now, reading her message, dread curled in my stomach.

Me: When do you want to talk?

I sent the text, feeling like I was holding my breath, waiting for her reply, knowing it wasn't going to be good.

Jess: Now.

My heart dropped. Whatever it was, she didn't want to wait.

Me: Okay, I'm home. You can drive by.

Her response came quickly.

Jess: Be there in fifteen.

I stared at the screen, my hands shaking slightly. What could she possibly want to talk about? My mind raced with possibilities, none of them good. I couldn't focus on the writing anymore. The weight of the unfinished words on the screen seemed insignificant compared to what was about to happen. I closed the laptop and set it aside, trying to steady my breathing, but the anxiety was crawling under my skin, making it impossible to sit still. I paced the living room, glancing at the clock every few seconds. Each minute felt like an hour.

Within fifteen minutes, I heard the familiar sound of her key turning in the lock. My heart leaped into my throat. Jess stepped inside, and the sight of her hit me harder than I expected. She looked tired, like she hadn't slept in days, her eyes red and puffy. Her shoulders slumped, and she couldn't even meet my gaze.

"Hey," she mumbled, barely audible.

I stood up from the couch, my voice trembling as I asked, "Where have you been?"

"At my aunt Elle's house," she said, her voice raw, like it hurt her to speak.

I swallowed hard, clearing my throat. Something was wrong, and I could feel it in my bones. I never called her by her name. I always called her babe or honey, but now I could barely form the words. "What's wrong, Jess?" I asked, fear creeping into my voice.

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she stared down at the floor, avoiding my eyes. The silence stretched out between us, heavy and suffocating. My heart pounded louder in my ears with each passing second.

"Jess?" I said again, my voice tinged with rising panic. Why wasn't she answering me? What was so bad that she couldn't even look at me?

Finally, she looked up, but her face was full of shame, her lips pressed tightly together as if she was struggling to keep something inside. "You should sit down," she said softly.

I shook my head. "No. Jess, what's wrong?" My voice cracked, my anxiety spiraling out of control. Why was she being so cryptic? Why wouldn't she just say it?

"Please, talk to me," I begged her, feeling the tears prickling the back of my eyes.

She let out a shaky breath and sat down across from me. I followed her lead, feeling like I was on the edge of some cliff, waiting for her to push me over.

"I need to tell you something," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want you to listen."

I nodded, bracing myself. My hands clenched in my lap. I could feel the weight of whatever was coming next, the way it was going to change everything.

"I cheated on you," she blurted out, her words crashing into me like a freight train.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, and I was drowning in the silence that followed. My heart shattered into a million pieces, the sound of it breaking ringing in my ears.

"And I'm pregnant," she added, her voice breaking as the final blow landed.

I stared at her, disbelief washing over me. My mind was reeling, trying to process the words she had just said, but nothing made sense. Everything felt like it was spinning out of control.

Then the emotions hit me all at once—rage, betrayal, heartbreak. It all exploded out of me in a scream. I didn't even remember standing up, but suddenly, I was yelling, my voice raw with pain. Jess started crying, but I couldn't stop. I screamed until my throat was hoarse, and then, in a blind fury, I started grabbing her things, shoving them into bags, throwing them out onto the balcony. Throwing them off. I couldn't stand to have her in my space anymore. I couldn't look at her.

Through the chaos, all I remember is her tear-streaked face as I shoved her out of the door. My chest was heaving, my hands shaking as I slammed it shut behind her. The apartment was eerily silent after that, the only sound my ragged breathing.

She cheated on me. With a guy. He got her pregnant. 

I grabbed a bottle of wine from the kitchen, uncorked it, and drank straight from the bottle. I didn't care. I just needed to numb the pain, to drown out the screams still echoing in my head.