Killing the Unfaithful

2. A Broken Heart

Tristan Clinton sat in his chair, trembling. He tried to clasp his hands to stop them from shaking, but to no avail.

The Officer, Michael he thought was her name, was giving him a heartless stare. The kind of stare which liquefies your insides.

He tried maintaining eye contact but couldn't help cowering under her gaze, occasionally wiping his sweaty hands on his pants.

The room was dim and gloomy and it didn't help that he had sat on this same chair two days before talking with Jane. The thought made a chill run down his spine.

After what seemed like forever, Michael spoke.
"So how did you knew Jane Weld? "

"She, she was my friend," he gulped, "we went to college together."

Michael arched her eyebrows," Just a friend?" she asked.

"YES!" he said with a little too much force.

"Oh really?" Michael leaned forward in her chair. Her eyes glinted. "That's your final answer?"

His heart hammered in his chest. He knew couldn't keep the secret anymore.

"She was my girlfriend," tears threatened to come out of his eyes. He felt all the emotions building up in him since morning- grief, anger, guilt.

She simply nodded,"Why did you kill her?"

The question hit him like a punch in the gut. Did he kill the woman he loved? Was it his fault? If only...

"No!" It's not my fault. He banged his hand on the table with surprising strength. "I loved her!" he screamed.

Tears streamed down his face. Anger boiled in his chest. "I never could have hurt her! Her husband killed her!" he yelled.

"I told her we should run away! I would have taken care of her! It was what she wanted!" he screeched. His throat was raw. He hadn't eaten or drunk water since morning.

"But she was scared of her husband," his voice lowered as memories came crashing back, until it was just a whisper. "She didn't want to leave her friends and family. She was so nice and beautiful and pure. I promised myself I would protect her but I failed. We were supposed to meet yesterday. If only I had not canceled..."

The anger in his voice had disappeared. He put his head down on the table and sobbed. "I didn't deserve her."

Even Michael had softened. "When did this start?" she asked.

He remembered that day three years ago all too well...

I grasped the door handle of the car,"I don't think it is a good idea," I said looking at the apartment building.

"Of course it is! You are her friend. You need explain her why I can't come today," Thomas Weld begged.

"You should talk to her yourself. You have come till here!"

"Oh god you don't understand! How would she feel if I meet her on our anniversary then leave for work?"

"You are not leaving for work. You are going to meet your girlfriend," I reminded him.

"Not the point! Listen," he used his boss tone,"you are going to go in there. Tell her I had to go to some other country due to some emergency work situation. She is going to cry and think I don't love her. Console her. Tell her I love her. Do it if you love your job."
With that he drove away in his fancy car. I didn't move until his car disappeared from sight. Then I sighed and went to greet my old friend.

The door opened as soon as I rang the bell. In front of me stood Jane in a short strapless black dress. She wore light makeup which was enough to amplify her beauty. My heart did a double flip.

For a second she had looked excited. Her eyes had danced with mischief and joy. She had smiled expectantly.

As soon as she lay eyes on me her smile wavered. All colour drained from her face.

"Tristan? Where's Tom?" she asked. Her eyes darted around.

"He is not here," I said sorely, trying to control my rising anger.

She looked like she was stabbed a hundred times. Her eyes were wide and moist. She stumbled back, clutching her chest. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

She quickly collected her wits. She wiped off the tear and put on her usual kind smile.

My heart ached.

She invited me in. She asked for no further explanation. She smiled and acted like usual. But I could see the smile was forced. Every movement took all her will.

As we sat down she let her facade a little down. She stared into the distance. An awkward silence stretched but I didn't know what to say.

Finally she sighed. "He has gone to meet her, hasn't he?"

I stared at her in shock. She knew?

She smiled sadly. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to help her. I wanted to yell at her husband for hurting such a beautiful soul.

She deserves better.

I leaned forward and put my hand on hers. She looked up at me, in her eyes was a desperation, a hunger for love, a need for affection.

"I could do better," I said as I came closer, our faces inches apart. She closed the distance.

My insides burned as I tasted her lips. She smelled of lavender and honey.

If it was wrong it didn't feel like it.

I put a strand of hair behind her ear as I came closer still.

"May I?"

Her answer was yes.

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