To have and to loathe

• 𝐂hapter 58

I still didn't know how I'd managed to live through my 31-day post-Killian syndrome but for the past four weeks, everything hurt.

Fast forward to two weeks back when I had decided to move out of my mum's house.

I tried not to be bitter about how easily she had forgiven Killian and asked me to go back to him. I couldn't blame her for it. She'd always been conversational and believed a woman ought to remain with her husband at all times.

I wondered if that ideology would've changed if I had explained to her how he'd slapped my bottom so hard and wicked that they were sore for weeks.

God, I should hate him, but the truth was, I didn't. I couldn't, not with the way he occupied my thoughts.

I couldn't even escape him in my dreams. Torturous memories flashed through my mind every night and it didn't help that I'd forgotten my vibrators back at his place.

Nonetheless, I knew I still loved him more than he was capable of ever loving me back and a lopsided relationship would destroy me, not to mention set a terrible example for my child, and I knew I didn't have much to offer it yet but if there was one thing I was sure it wasn't going to lack, it was the love I had to give.

With that in mind, I willed all anxious thoughts of Killian Fobster away and tried to focus simply on my life.

I didn't need him.

I didn't need anyone.

I only needed my own two hands.

I was very good at withstanding difficulties and I'd spent the last week setting up a new independent life. I found a place near where I worked that offered month-long leases and signed the contract. I went shopping for apartment supplies with Lesley and before I knew it, I was living in my apartment.

A knock sounded on the door of my apartment door just when I stepped out of the kitchen with my microwaved piece of pizza.

I got this intense urge to snap a photo of it and send it to Killian. It would piss him off and I would take wicked pleasure in knowing he couldn't do anything about it.

The knock sounded again and I dropped the plate down on my coffee table.

Who the hell was that?

I walked to the door. Unfortunately, it didn't have a peeping hole.

"Who's it?"

"Delivery for Mrs. Fobster."

My heart skipped. No one in this area knew my last name.

I opened the door quickly, finding a young man holding a large cardboard box.

"Please sign here."

I gave him a double-take before signing for the package and taking it inside. The box was huge and surprisingly light. When I plopped down on the couch, I opened it, shocked to find a dress and a new pair of shoes sitting Inside.