Three's Company

21. Lost in the Fire

By now, the routine activity of sniffling into a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream was getting pretty damn old.

The next morning Mona was glued to her bed, stuffing her face full with junk food and dairy. She could not, for the life of her, leave her depressive state as crippling heartbreak consumed her entire being.

Falling in love was not something she recommended to anyone, for bliss could be ripped away so quickly and the terrible, gut-wrenching emotions of worthlessness and self-hatred could replace it with a snap of a finger.

She didn't understand how she was so in love with him still, having acknowledgement of his disloyalty and lies.

She had been busy crying as a silly rom-com played on her flatscreen, her feet brushing against the covers.

The current romantic scene involved the actors kissing in the rain after a near we're-breaking-up-even-though-we're-not-together argument and she found herself being envious of the fictional couple.

What was she doing so wrong for her love story to end up so tragic? Her face contorted into a displeased expression.

There had even been love found on her farm for crying out loud, two of her cows were very much in love and she had caught them in the act.

Sure, Mona wanted to be disappointed that her animals couldn't keep their hormones together, but she accepted it once she saw how Bessie and Duke were together. She had watched as he gave up of his mixture of hay and grass for her.

Talk about true love.

The only thing that wretched man had given up for her was his dick, and that was to put it into another woman.

She pulled a face at her own incessant thoughts, shoving a hand against her forehead.

He had probably said nasty, dirty things to her, filthy things that she knew would traumatise her more then she already was.

Stupid, stupid, Heath. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Could he not have pre-warned her about cheating and lies before she agreed to marry him? That would've made her life a lot easier.

Thanks to him, it was far too late for her to start fresh without having some kind of emotional baggage. She felt like a pathetic divorcee at the ripe age of thirty, knowing if she wanted to start dating new it would involve her having to admit that an ex-husband existed.

Petting the sleeping fur ball mindlessly, she went to reach for her ice cream again when she saw the glimpse of him again.

She grazed her finger over the dying roses, and her sniffles became muted.

He always did this. Whenever they argued and she was upset with him, he would buy her flowers everyday and apologise profusely until she finally caved in.

However, this time the little 'I'm sorry' note did nothing to her. She simply stared at it motionless as it sat on her doorstep nestled into a dozen red roses and her favourite box of treats from home.

It wasn't going to make up for him hurting her, he knew that. But he was a stupid effing man who struggled to make things right.

She also knew she wasn't making it easier for him since she had cut all contact.

Ten years. She had spent ten long years with a person she gave her everything too and he had thrown it back in her face like it meant nothing.

Her heartbreak continued when she finished her movie and started to play Arabic songs on her speaker. The thing about listening to songs in Arabic, they could be so hauntingly beautiful and heart wrenching, it was the perfect recipe for disaster.