Begin Again

The Unraveling

•December 2015•

13th

I hid the box behind me, my knuckles white. "Throw that away. I don't want that thing anywhere near us."

We had fought about this ring so many times. It felt like a ghost, a trigger for every insecurity he had about the past. I didn't understand why he couldn't just tell me, face-to-face, that she meant nothing anymore. My gut screamed that there was something deeper, a secret he was burying.

I tucked the ring into the very back of my desk drawer, hidden away. I tried to make things right that evening, bringing his favorite coffee to his office at six, but the room was empty. No note, no text. I went home feeling hollow, falling asleep with tears burning my eyes.

14th

I arrived at work early, desperate to bridge the gap between us. I bought a sandwich, my stomach churning from nervousness, and headed to my desk. Philip's door was ajar.

"You forgot your phone and wallet at my condo. You really haven't changed!"

The voice was unmistakably Arva's. It wasn't angry—it was familiar, intimate.

"Thanks, Arva... just go before my secretary sees you. Take care."

My secretary. The words felt like a physical blow. I leaned against the wall, fighting the urge to vomit, my head spinning. What was he doing at her condo? As Arva walked out, I quickly wiped my face, masking my agony behind a professional smile.

When I finally stepped into Philip's office, he was rubbing his face, looking exhausted. "Go away, Fen. I don't need your nagging."

I reached out, my cold hands trembling against his face. "I just wanted to tell you she was here. Can we be okay again, please?"

He said nothing. I left, broken, feeling the distance grow into an unbridgeable canyon.

22nd

A week of silence turned into a suffocating routine. I didn't ask questions; I didn't want to hear the answers.

Tonight was supposed to be our dinner date. I decided to meet him there so he wouldn't have to go out of his way. I sat at our favorite restaurant, waiting. 8:30 PM. 9:00 PM.

I was starving—not just for food, but because I was carrying a secret. A surprise. I was pregnant.

Then, my phone rang. Martha. "Go home, Feny. Philip isn't there."

"What?" I laughed, shaking my head. "Are you drunk? We have a dinner date."

"Feny, listen to me," Martha's voice was venomous. "Your Philip is here, burying his face in Arva. They're both pathetic!"

Everything inside me froze. The world went cold, a biting numbness traveling from my feet up to my throat. I didn't remember driving to the bar; I only remember the stinging smell of cigarette smoke as I pushed through the crowd.

There they were. He was sitting with Arva on his lap, whispering into her ear. He leaned in to kiss her, but before his lips could touch hers, a glass of wine flew through the air, drenching Arva. Martha.

"Let's go, Feny!" Martha screamed, trying to drag me away, but my feet were lead.

Philip looked up, his eyes glassy from alcohol. The moment he saw my face, his expression softened—a brief, agonizing flicker of the man I loved. I took a step toward him, hoping, praying...

SLAP.

The sharp, burning pain of Arva's hand across my cheek snapped my head to the side. Martha let out a blood-curdling scream. I looked at Philip, waiting for him to defend me, waiting for him to move.

He did nothing.

"You bastard! You piece of sh*t!" I screamed, but before I could finish, the world tilted on its axis, my vision blurred into black, and everything went dark.