DETACHED || HS ✔️

E I G H T

"I CAN'T WAIT TO READ IT."

Jack exclaimed when Arabella nearly threw the article at him and didn't look back. Thursday had come too quick.

It took her days to finish the old thing. When she wasn't throwing up her guts or dealing with Harry, she was friskily writing up the draft. It was only the day before Monday that she completed the draft and fully edited it to pieces. It had to be perfect.

Besides the article, her husband was another stressful thing Arabella had added to the list. His presence made her anxious and on the edge. She was worried because if he moved dangerously, everything was over.

And, Arabella didn't want to see the end.

"Anything else?" the journalist questioned, nervously picking at the skin of her nails and biting her lip.

Her boss scanned down her attire, dark eyes raking down the oversized sweater and expensive running shoes. He failed to notice the slight bump sticking out, though, which means, Arabella's goal was achieved.

For now.

"No, but I'll call you in a few days. I guess you could call it another vacation."

Her feet found themselves already scrambling out of the workplace, bidding a quick goodbye before fishing out her phone. Arabella had made up her mind about her plans for the night.

Liam answered on the first ring.

He didn't even welcome her because he was too excited. "I have a feeling that you're calling about dinner tonight," the chef smoothly stated, nodding his head with a smirk.

Arabella rolled her eyes, suddenly feeling out of breath from her walk. She wasn't even home yet.

"You're right, Mr. Payne. It's been a good day and I would like to celebrate it."

The twenty-nine-year-old man chuckled, his hand coming to fiddle with a stray strand on his apron. After he recovered, he swallowed thickly at the thought of what could happen that night. It was frightening.

Liam replied as soon as Arabella's feet landed on the welcome mat of her porch. "Alright, you and Harry come to that French restaurant across from my house tonight. That sound good?"

"Yeah," the journalist nodded while she wiped her feet on the carpet. "The one that starts with an A or something? And what time?"

"Yes ma'am. Seven will work for me."

"See you then," the wife said before she hung up.

Arabella didn't put a thought toward her plans tonight until she threw her journal across the room and fell on the couch. She was angry at herself because of the cruel yet truthful words she typed in the article. She figured many people would be buzzing about it, the news spreading across the world that Arabella Styles had confirmed her husband's infidelity. She wished she could take it all back.

Her hand subconsciously rubbed the bump protruding out from her body. She wasn't worried that the journal was lying wide open near the wall. She wasn't worried that her husband's presence wasn't at home. He was making music — a new hobby of his — which was way better than his old ways. No, Arabella was worried about what she had done.

She didn't understand the storm she caused.

Arabella rid her terrible thoughts before replaying them with elegant ones. She was seeing one of her pals tonight, having dinner with him as well as her husband. My unloyal husband, she thought, but still, he was trying.

But in some cases, there weren't any second chances.

•••

Arabella stared at herself in the mirror for far too long. She wasn't telling herself over and over that she was beautiful. No, the journalist didn't have much self esteem. The only confidence she had was built up because of Harry's words, and Harry's words had been missing since three months ago.