Recklessly Bound

Chapter Thirty One

My insecurities flare up like hounds chasing me. Have I done something to make him hurt me like this? What does she have that I don't? Sam's words from the night Ethan confronted Lorena come to mind. He did warn me against this.

Now I know why he never destroyed or talked about the agreement even after we confessed our feelings.

My chest starts burning from the lack of oxygen. It feels as if someone is squeezing it to drain all the blood. My phone starts ringing again. This time Angelic's name lights up the screen. I hold onto my throat, trying to swallow the pain and breathe through my nose but fail. When I don't answer her call, she tries again.

Forcing air through my nostril, I answer the phone.

"Evelyn, dear? I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm coming to get you, ok? Evelyn, can you hear me? Are you at his place?"

I continue breathing shakily and deeply to prevent upcoming and foreseeable hyperventilation.

"Evelyn, are you ok?"

"Hmm," I hum in response.

"Oh, dear. I'm so sorry. I'm almost there, ok? Do you think you can get ready and meet me by the backyard gate in twenty minutes?"

I hum again. My throat closes down on me, and my voice starts to crack. Angelic hangs up after giving me instructions and reassurance to pick me as fast as possible. To be honest, I don't think that I have enough energy to walk out of the house. It's embarrassing. To now be known as the wife who was cheated on. The one who couldn't keep him satisfied. The one who is now subjected to pity and sympathy.

Nevertheless, all of that doesn't hurt as much as knowing that I really wasn't enough. I guess he didn't love me after all. I sink to the floor because my legs can't support me anymore. Dragging myself a few inches to the left, I lean against the back of the sofa. My brain picks at the last moments Ethan and I spent time in both trying to relish our last truly happy moment and to find reasons or signs. Was it my confession that pushed him away? Was it the sex?

A loud noise of screeching tires on gravel awakes me from my haze. The car growls louder the closer it gets to the front door. Thumping footsteps climbing the stairs follow after. I look up just in time to see Ethan bursting through the double doors.

His eyes fall on me. He's panting forcefully. A clear sheen of sweat covers his forehead.

"Evelyn," he breathes out. I sit there, motionless and emotionless. He approaches me slowly, his arms hanging to his side stiffly.

I stare up at him. No outburst. No tears. I can see the confusion washing over as he takes my state in. Perhaps later at night, when the only sound I can hear is my rhythmic breathing and the lack of a presence in bed, I will cry then.

"I'm so sorry." He kneels next to me and sits on his heels with his knees bracing on the floor. His brows are intertwined. Sweat is beading down his temple.

Yet he looks just as handsome as ever. The strange part of this is that I still love him even after being cheated and lied to.

"It's not what you think, I swear," he begins. "I wasn't there with her last right, as the media says." He reaches across to brush his fingers on my cheek, but I lean back and dodge him. "It was all a setup."

I look away because looking at his handsome face is too painful and remindful of how I have pined for him for years, and yet I'm still not enough. He drops his head in defeat.

"Please say something," he begs. From the corner of my eye, I take in his state. His lips are pressed together tightly, and his fists are balled and white. His white shirt is sticking to his chest from the sweat.