Ours to Keep || Anakin Skywalker

7 - A Facade

2.2k words

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This morning when I stepped out of my apartment. I nearly tripped over trash on the floor.

At first, I assumed it was a package I had forgotten about. I do have a habit of doing that. But when I looked down, there he was, the scum of the earth. It seems Arthur slept out here in the hall all night instead of going with his mistress like I told him to. Maybe she doesn't want him as much as I don't.

I cried when he 'left'. Sobbed is more accurate. I blamed myself for not being enough, as anyone in this situation would. That's one of the worst things—in my opinion—about getting cheated on. It has you questioning your self-worth a lot more than you would if it was a simple break up. I wondered if I could have done something differently to prevent this, and if it had started before or after our miscarriage.

I'm assuming after. That's when his behavior changed and I always thought it was due to him grieving...but no, it was due to him placing himself into another woman's vagina. It's nice to see him coping with his loss. Selfish dick.

Another question I had is; did she know? Was she aware he is—was engaged to another woman? Am I allowed to be angry with her too? I came to the conclusion that yes, she did know. She didn't look mad when I walked in or surprised, only shocked and apologetic that she, the home-wrecker, got caught. Plus this apartment is littered with photos of him and I, there is no way she didn't notice at least one.

I stepped over Arthur who hadn't woken up, and closed the door before locking it. I'm guessing since he's on the floor and has none of his possessions with him, his apartment key is inside and therefore will need the manager or super to let him in. And I may or may not have already called and left voicemails to both of them about the situation. They'll have to let him in no matter what since his name is also on the lease, but they won't be very nice to him when they do.

I left down the hall, my heels silent on the gray carpet, and made my way to the staircase. Our apartment was only on the third floor, so I never saw a point in taking the elevator, especially since it takes its sweet time usually. This way I don't waste time standing there, and with my luck he would wake up as I was waiting and follow me to my car.

I didn't care to hear his apology or his bullshit excuses. There is a nice note I left for him on the counter that instructs him to get all of his shit out and to be gone by the time I'm home from work tonight. If he is not gone, then I will be taking the bag that I am currently carrying with me to a hotel. It is there that I will stay until I can get out of that lease and find a cheap place to live on my own. But I happen to love that apartment, it's affordable and in a nice area, so I'm hoping he leaves with no issues.

The drive to work was silent. I didn't play the radio. I didn't want to risk hearing any of those songs about how much a blessing love is. It has become clear to me that love is a myth, a facade created to sell movies, music, and books. If someone I've been with as long as that can bring another woman into a house we share, then there's no hope.

My parents' marriage was a failure.

As were my grandparents.

My aunts and uncles.

Cousins.

All fails.

I had hoped mine was going to be different, that I would be the one to shake the curse. But look at me now, not even married and it still became a complete failure. So yeah, love is just a myth. And shame on me for still trying to believe in it when the universe spent my whole life showing me that it almost never works out.