Chapter 4 004
EMILY
I didn’t chase after Ryan last night.
I didn’t call his name or run barefoot down the driveway like some dramatic movie scene where regret arrives just in time. I just lay there on our bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun uselessly above me, its soft whirring doing nothing to drown out the noise in my head.
My chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped a band around my ribs and kept pulling, tighter and tighter, until every breath felt earned.
Then I heard it.
The low rumble of his car engine roaring to life.
The crunch of tires against gravel as he backed out of the driveway.
And finally, the sound fading into the distance until there was nothing left but silence.
The house felt hollow without him, like something essential had been ripped out and taken along for the ride. It wasn’t just that he was gone—it felt like a part of me had driven away too.
I pressed my palm against my mouth to keep from sobbing too loudly, afraid the walls themselves might judge me.
Exhaustion finally dragged me under sometime in the early hours of the morning, not gently, but like a body giving up a fight it could no longer win.
When I woke up, the first thing I did was reach across the bed.
Cold.
Untouched.
Ryan hadn’t come back.
My heart sank so hard it felt physical, like a weight pressing down on my lungs. For a moment, I couldn’t move. I just lay there, staring at the space beside me, the place where he should have been, where he always was. That side of the bed had already molded itself to his absence.
Back in high school, he was the boy who made me laugh until my sides hurt. The one who knew how to distract me when I spiraled, who held my hand like it was something fragile and worth protecting.
How had we gone from that to this?
To me lying alone in our bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if our marriage was already over.
The alarm clock blared, ripping me out of the memories. I slapped the snooze button—once, twice—before forcing myself upright. My body felt heavy, like grief had weight and had settled into my bones overnight.
The drive to work felt endless. Traffic was light, but my mind was packed with what-ifs, each one sharper than the last.
What if I had told Fred no from the beginning?
What if I had fought harder for Ryan instead of running from the problems we should have faced together?
By the time I pulled into the office parking lot, my hands were trembling. I turned the engine off but stayed seated, gripping the steering wheel like it might ground me. I didn’t want to go inside.
But hiding wasn’t an option.
I took the stairs instead of the elevator, hoping the climb might clear my head or at least exhaust me enough to numb the pain. It didn’t. By the time I reached my floor, my legs burned, but my thoughts were still a storm, loud and relentless.
Carla stood outside my office door with her clipboard in hand and that overly perky smile she always wore, like nothing in the world ever rattled her.
“Hi, Carly,” I said, forcing my voice to sound normal even though it came out thin and shaky.
She glanced up. “Good morning, ma’am. Do you have an early meeting?”
I shook my head. “No. What’s on the schedule?”
“Nothing urgent,” she said, flipping through her notes. “But Mr. Lang wants to see you as soon as you arrive.”
I nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
As I turned away, I heard it—a soft scoff behind me. I stopped and spun around.
“Do you have something to say, Carla?”
Her cheeks flushed instantly. “No, ma’am. Nothing.”
Suspicion curled in my stomach. Something had been bothering me all morning, a question I hadn’t wanted to ask because I already knew the answer.
“How did Ryan know I was in Fred’s office last night?”
Her face went pale, then red. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“What did you tell my husband?”
She hesitated, eyes darting anywhere but mine. “He asked where you were. I told him you were still working late with Mr. Lang.”
The words hit like a slap.
“You told him I was with Fred?” My voice shook. “Do you have any idea what that started?”
“It was the truth,” she shot back, defensive now. “If there’s a problem, maybe it’s not with what I said.”
I stared at her, stunned by the audacity. “If I find out you said anything more than that,” I said quietly, “we’re going to have a real problem.”
She didn’t respond. Just pressed her lips together and looked away.
I turned and marched toward Fred’s office, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
The door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open without knocking.
Fred stood immediately, a small smile spreading across his face, like nothing had changed. Like last night hadn’t cracked my life wide open.
“Hey, baby,” he said smoothly. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “That chapter is closed, Fred.”
His brow creased slightly before he scoffed. “Why? Because your husband showed up?” He shrugged. “We can be more discreet. Smarter.”
“No,” I said, my voice firmer than I expected. “Because I never should have started this. I love Ryan. I always have. But I fucked up. I fell for your advances instead of talking to my husband. I should’ve worked on my marriage, not this… whatever this is.”
My voice cracked, and the tears came again. Fred stepped closer, his arms opening like a reflex.
“Emily, come here,” he said gently. “Let me hold you. I can make it better.”
I backed away quickly, lifting my hands. “No, Fred. Don’t touch me. This has to end.”
Frustration flashed across his face. “Why are you ending this beautiful thing we have because of a high school love? Ryan’s your past. I’m your now.”
I scoffed, wiping at my tears. “That ‘high school love’ is my husband, Fred. The man I vowed to love forever. The one who knows me better than anyone.”
He scoffed right back. “Saying it over and over won’t erase what you’ve done. You cheated, Emily. We both did. Just suck it up and move on. We make each other happy.”
“Wow.” The word slipped out like a punch. “Is that really all this is to you? Something to suck up? I thought you cared.”
For a split second, he looked startled. Then his expression hardened. “I do care. That’s why I’m fighting for us. Don’t throw this away over guilt.”
“I’m not throwing anything away,” I said, my voice rising. “I’m quitting it. All of it. I quit, Fred. This job. This affair. Everything.”
His mouth fell open. “You must be joking. You can’t quit like that.”
“I’m not joking,” I said, surprised by the calm that washed over me. “I’m sorry I’m not giving two weeks’ notice, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t see you every day and pretend.”
I turned to leave, but Fred grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “Emily, wait. Think about this. We have something special.”
“Let go of me,” I said firmly, shoving him away. “Watch me walk out that door.”
I didn’t wait for a response. I rushed out of his office, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. Carla stood as I passed her desk, but I didn’t slow down. I couldn’t handle questions, or pity, or judgment. I pushed through the exit doors, the cool air hitting my face like a lifeline.
In my car, I let out a shaky breath and pulled out my phone with trembling hands.
Hey Morgan, are you home?
Her reply came almost instantly.
Yes, babe.
I dropped the phone onto the seat beside me and drove toward her place, not knowing what came next—only that I couldn’t face it alone.