Exactly 23 days

Chapter 1: Learning to love again

Fiora had left him in Devon to make his own way back to Manchester but not to their home, she had removed his front door key from his jeans. He wouldn't come through her front door again. Ever.

The irony of the lyrics blasting from her car radio, informing her of learning to love him again! She drove with fury as the voice pelted out the song and the tears poured down her face. "Fuck off" she screamed, pushing the off button on the radio in her temper. "Why the fuck would I want to love him again? "FUCK OFFFFF" she yelled at nobody and everybody at the same time, followed by "and where the hell are you when I need you Mother?". She realised she was becoming hysterical whilst in charge of a vehicle and that she was driving dangerously too. Pulling over onto the next petrol station car park, she undid her seat belt and slumped over the steering wheel and sobbed. Oh boy, did she sob? Gut wrenching, heart jolting, unendurable sobs, barely taking a breath as mucus ran from her nose and mascara stained her pretty face. She used her shirt sleeve as a handkerchief wiping away the conjoined messes, in readiness for the next deluge to arrive. She had no idea how long she had been there, when she heard a gentle tapping on her window and as she looked up to her right, a smile crept across the woman's face as she mouthed something through the window, that Fi couldn't hear. She pressed the electric window button to reveal a softly spoken voice saying, "Are you okay dear? You've been here a while." Fi replied, "No I'm not, but I will be, thank you very much for asking," she said, "I will use the toilets to freshen up and then get myself a drink and be on my way," she continued, before finally adding, "I've had some upsetting news but I will be fine, thanks again for your concern." The woman walked away and Fi promptly burst into tears again.

"Some time later she opened the door to step out of her car and realised that she was still wearing her slippers, as she recalled the behaviour that had led her to flee the caravan in such a hurry that morning. "Bastard," she thought, "fucking bastard," he was the one who had been deceiving her and yet there he was, nose to nose, yelling at her with such vitriol and hatred that she could feel his spit on her face, as he continued to behave in that all too familiar way when he couldn't handle conflict, being verbally abusive, with the threat of violence. He had done the one thing he had sworn, during their short lived time together, that he would never, ever do, he had finally admitted having an affair and yet he was treating her in such a violent manner. Yes, she had been scared and yes she had been shaking inside with fear and yes she had fled wearing her slippers.

Fi shook the recollection from her mind and quickly changed footwear before going into the public toilets. When she looked in the mirror the pain was clear to see, although there were no visible bruises from his failure to batter her physically, the emotional bruises were there nonetheless, in her heart, in her soul, in her eyes and in her swollen face from the hours of tears already shed. She threw cold water over her face repeatedly to shock her into the present and to allow herself to take stock and make decisions. The realisation, that it had all been a lie, was, without putting too finer point on it, shocking to her. He had started their relationship lying when he told her he had three children but then later on in the relationship confessing to having six children. However, Fi eventually found out that he did have seven children! Now here he was, ending their relationship 5 years later and still lying, when she had finally gotten him to admit to his affair. She also realised as she stood there looking at herself in the mirror, that the other woman wasn't called Chloe and that she wasn't a sales rep that he had met in his role as a postman, because she also knew for sure that they too were lies. The last 5 years had indeed been one big lie and 'Do you know how I know he's lying?' she asked herself, 'because his fucking lips moved!' she answered!

She rearranged her mane of curly hair into some sort of acceptable state, ready for her to face civilization again on the other side of that toilet door and she put her sunglasses on to avoid eye contact with anyone, whilst hiding her pain. She took a deep breath, opened the door and walked out into the bustle of the petrol station shop, grabbed a coffee and muesli bar and paid at the check out. In her haste to reach the safe haven of her car, she bumped into the kind assistant again as she was exiting the building. "You take care" said the woman, gently touching Fi's arm, "thank you," Fi replied as tears teetered on the edge of her eyelids, ready to flow down her cheeks and open the flood gates again. 'Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths' she told herself as she quickly walked back to her vehicle, just managing to stem the flow of tears, for now anyway.
Fi sat and ate her snack and drank her coffee whilst checking her many emails, messages and voicemails. She had informed her nearest and dearest via text message and social media messaging what had happened, as she could not possibly face the relentless conversations needed to explain the micro details of yet another ending of her marriage to this fucking crazy arsehole. Her received messages were asking her to contact them all ASAP whilst supporting her decision to take his house key off him and "leave the tosser in Devon to get wherever he was going."