Chapter Twenty Three

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I wasn't sure how to react. Instead, I returned to the house, closing the front door gently as I closed my eyes in disbelief. I just couldn't understand my situation anymore.

Nick must have heard me because he was soon exiting the kitchen. "Everything alright?" he asked, cheerfully smiling as he combed his fingers through his blonde hair.

I nodded, not bothering to deliver an excuse as to why I had embarked outside the house. "You didn't tell me you were going out tonight," I said, changing the subject and hoping to settle my mind from the mini episode of jealously I'd seen displayed from Shane just then.

"Yeah, I was going to tell you but things...got a little bit---" he paused, his grin hinting at the intimacy shared between us moments ago.

"Who you going with? Jim from work?" I suggested.

"Er, no. I'm meeting Regina. We're going over some work stuff and then just generally catching up," he replied, leaning against the wall.

I froze. Regina. He was meeting a female? I mean I knew I could trust him because Nick was just Nick. He was more faithful than forty saints combined in a room together. But it didn't mean it completely settled my nerves. I was now beginning to just decide that I didn't like the idea of Nick going out. Instead, I wanted him here, I wanted him here with me. And I wanted to be here than where ever Shane was planning for us to go.

"Well, maybe, you could stay here and—and I could tell Shane I'm not feeling up to it. We could just have a quiet night in, watch a movie and just relax," I replied, anxiously rubbing the palms of my hands together. It was starting to become a habit every time I felt on edge.

Nick frowned playfully. "What? I mean, hon, I'm down for that any day but you can't just fall back on your promise now. And besides, I promised Regina tonight that I would come out. We can watch a film tomorrow or the next day."

I was a little surprised by his response. My brows raised sceptically as I failed to find the will to respond. I shook my head as I began to head towards the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh, hun. Don't be mad," Nick whined, "of course I love spending time with you. You're my wife for heavens sake. Rose, c'mon," he grumbled as I climbed the stairs ignoring him stubbornly. He called out again, but I heard no footsteps following after me as I went into my study. That was also a little disappointing.

I wasn't quite sure why I was beginning to distant myself from Shane, nor could I understand this sudden attachment to Nick despite failing to feel any lust earlier either. It seemed like I was stuck in concrete, even more confused as to where my feelings were wanting to be homed.

I sat down in my study chair, feeling completely lifeless as I dropped my head into my arms onto the desk. The sound of the computer awakening drew my attention towards it as it became more apparent, I had nudged the mouse provoking it from its dormant state. The manuscript was up on the screen, with the pending cursor awaiting for my interaction. I pulled a face of grimace as I aggressively closed the document, huffing aloud. I don't want to see you, I hissed to myself. I can't stand to look at you.

I was certain I was going to send the computer back into its slumber when the sight of ConFESS minimised within the browser sent a shiver running down the back of my spine. I had forgotten about that. It must have only been a couple hours or so since I had confessed the entirety of my situation anonymously to random---no licensed therapists, just random folk to judge my confession. I glanced behind me feeling sweat beginning to surface upon my forehead and decided hastily that I wanted to lock the door.

I did. Before I returned and slowly slid myself down onto the padded seat. Gulp. I wasn't so sure I liked the idea of having let random strangers judge me. What had they said? Would the comments say I'm a cheat? A whore? A marriage-wrecker? The devil in disguise? Who knew? I just knew deep down I wasn't so sure I liked the idea of being insulted even if my identity was safely masked behind the curtains of anonymity.

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