Forgiving Love | rewrite

A Lonely Night

Minutes pass, maybe hours, but nothing changes. The clock keeps moving forward with each tik, but I'm stuck in the disgusting images of my husband and his lover. Memories of their bodies glued together, their mouths devouring each other, torture me throughout the night.

And it hurts.

When the sunlight finally hits my windows, peeking into my office, I don't even blink at the ugly memories, and I'm sure if I tried, I couldn't.

After crawling into my office last night, I turned immobile. I didn't cry any longer, but I didn't do much else either; however persistently Liam tried to make me answer his calls. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one calling.

"Dad, it's two in the morning. Is everything alright?" I straightened from my chair and leaned forward nervously. I tapped my mouse once, waking up my computer, but the bright light made me look away.

"Finally!" Dad exclaimed, then shouted away from the mic to my mother. "Helen, I have Vivs on the phone! What honey? I can't hear you!"

"Dad? What the hell is going on?" I demanded.

"Wait a minute, sweetheart."

I groaned, slouching in the chair.

"Helen! Just come upstairs!" a brief pause. "For Christ's sake, the stairs aren't that deathly!"

I began looking for my coffee mug, lazily searching the desk.

"Why are you calling?" I tried, but Dad didn't pay attention.

"I have to do everything myself," he continued to mumble.

I found my black mug and got up from my chair. After sitting for hours, my legs were numb, so I stretched on my way to the break room.

Dad muttered something inaudible, but then he growled at me, "Your mother was about to call the cops. You can't do this, Vivs."

"Do what? I have no idea what you're talking about," I defended myself rightfully.

I came to the kitchen and filled my mug with cold water.

"Disappear! Liam called and told me you didn't come home after work. He guessed you were working but grew anxious since you didn't answer either of your cells. Where were you?"

"Liam called?"

"Is that all you gathered from that?"

"No, obviously not," I sighed and found the easiest lie I could. "I'm working, and my work cell was off."

"You could've texted."

"I forgot my phone at home." It was kind of true.

"No, you didn't. You texted me earlier today. Is everything—wait," Dad stopped abruptly.

I sipped my water, relieved I had time to think before launching into another lie.

"Yes, I have her here. Do you want to chat with her?" Dad was talking to Mom. "Why would I ask that? She wouldn't answer if she weren't alive—fine. Your mother insists on knowing if you're physically ok."

"Never better," I replied.

"She said, and I quote, never better," Dad informed Mom. I faintly heard Mom bark something in the background.

"Fine. Vivs, your mother wants to speak with you." Dad didn't sound happy. "So I'm going to bed. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Night."

"Goodnight," I responded, but Mom had already taken the phone. Just like that, I went from one interrogation to another.