KARMA

9. THE LOVE NEST

A Note from Ashleigh

This chapter is brand new. Same scenario, but the words are fresh out of my head.

A special shoutout to my lovely, amazing besties, @Red-Offshoulder-Girl and @zaaratazrian15 for their detailed summarizing of the story. Thank you for your help, I love you guys so much. ❤❤❤❤

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LISA

Weak morning light strains through my bedroom window. I roll over, away from the light. The other side of the bed is empty.

Ryan is gone, his pillow dry with the sweat and scent of the man I once thought I knew.

I love you, I heard him whisper to me last night, felt his kiss in my hair, as I lay still, my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.

I drag myself to and from the shower, mop my hair with a towel.

It's Monday. D-Day. The day when the rotten rats go out to rut.

I check my phone.

There's a text from Maxim.

Good morning, Lisa.

Good morning, Maxim, I text back.

Are you at work? he replies almost at once.

I'm on leave, I type. Press SEND.

I see, he texts.

ME: Are you at work?

MAXIM: Yes. I am thinking of you. Are you thinking of me, Lisa?

ME: No, Naughty Maxim.

MAXIM: You are breaking my heart.

ME: You don't have a heart, Maxim Chamberlain.

MAXIM: I do. It beats only for you.

ME: Bye, Maxim.

MAXIM: I'll be seeing you, sweet Lisa.

I get ready my artillery, like a soldier going to war. My camera, Nikon D5500, which captures everything with remarkable sharpness and precision with its powerful lens. It was a gift from Ryan. The irony. I stuff the camera into my tote bag. Then I open the drawers and rummage for the other documents I would need.

At 5.00 p.m., the front door downstairs opens.

I squint at the doorway, into the dim of the hall.

Ryan is home.

At the top of the stairs, I unclench my hands --- why are they shaking? ---- and take a breath. The air is stale with Ryan's betrayal. I should open the windows wide, ventilate. But I won't, because nothing can get rid of the stench. It's seeped into every crease, every nook and corner of this house, the furniture, the bed, between the floorboards, the Persian carpets, into my skin. It's everywhere. Everything in this house is tainted, dirtied, filthy, because of him.

I hear him before I see him.

And when I see him, he's in the kitchen, sucking water from a tumbler. The room is shadows and glass, as dim as the world beyond the window. I study his Adam's apple as it bobs in his throat. His blonde hair is scruffy at the nape. For an instant I close my eyes and recall how I used to run my hands through that hair, his mouth against my mouth. When I open them again, he's looking at me, his eyes blue and clouded in the gray light.