Chapter 69 Chapter 23.3
While Heaven slept, Desmond retreated into the bathroom and stepped under the shower. He scrubbed hard, desperate to wash away the stench of last night—of alcohol, of guilt, of everything he couldn’t fully remember. His jaw tightened as he gripped the bar of soap until his knuckles whitened. No matter how hard he forced his mind to recall what happened, all he could grasp were blurry fragments.
“Damn it,” he muttered through clenched teeth. His fist slammed against the tiled wall in frustration. He hadn’t even known Heaven had come home. The shame burned deeper than the pounding in his skull.
When he finally finished and stepped out of the bathroom, toweling his hair, he froze.
Heaven was awake and she was packing.
“What… what are you doing?” Desmond asked as he approached her.
She didn’t look at him. She kept folding her clothes, placing them into a suitcase with trembling but determined hands.
“Where are you going? Why are you packing your things? Heaven, don’t do this. Please.” He reached out, hurriedly returning the clothes to the closet, but Heaven only took them back and shoved them inside the suitcase again. This time, she met his eyes.
“I’m breaking up with you, Desmond. I won’t keep you trapped in a situation you were forced into.”
Desmond shook his head immediately, almost frantically.
“What are you talking about? I love you, Heaven. You’re the one I want to spend my life with. If you’re leaving, wherever it is, you know I’ll go with you. Just don’t walk away from me.”
Heaven shut her eyes tight, calming herself so she wouldn’t strain the stitches along her abdomen. Her voice trembled when she spoke.
“From the beginning, our marriage was wrong. You loved someone else, but I hoped… I hoped you would forget her. That you’d give us a chance. But you didn’t even wait. You didn’t even try.” Her voice cracked. “It already hurts losing Daryl. But why did you have to make it worse? Why couldn’t you mourn him with me? Why did you go back to her so soon?”
Desmond stared at her, bewildered. He felt the pain of losing their child too, deeply, crushingly, but nothing he said ever seemed to reach her.
“What do you mean? Of course I’m grieving. How can you think I’m not? Do you want me to cry in front of you every day? I’m trying to stay strong for you, Heaven. I’m trying not to fall apart because I know seeing me break will only break you more. Losing Daryl is killing me inside.”
Heaven let out a bitter laugh, one that sounded more like it was torn from a wounded heart than amusement. She pulled out her phone and held it up.
“Then what is this?”
Desmond’s blood ran cold.
There, on the screen, was a photo of him and Macie, together in the same bed, skin bare, his eyes closed as if he had surrendered to sleep rather than sense.
His throat tightened.
“Heaven—”
“Isn’t that enough? Do you still not understand?” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Even if you did love me, I know I’ll never stand a chance against what you felt for her. If you really loved me… why? Was it an accident that you ended up in the same room? The same bed? Was it an accident that you slept with her?”
Her voice broke.
“You wouldn’t do this to me if you truly loved me. If you wanted her back, you could have at least respected our three-month mourning… but you didn’t. You made everything hurt twice as much.”
When Desmond reached for her hand, she stepped away.
“Please believe me,” he pleaded. “I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was doing. Heaven, don’t leave me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just wanted to forget the pain for a while. I didn’t even know she was there. I don’t know how she found me. But I swear, I have no intention of going back to her.”
Heaven’s expression softened with exhaustion rather than trust.
She didn’t know what to believe anymore. She didn’t know if she had any trust left to give.
“Let me go, Desmond,” she whispered. “If we keep trying to force this, we’re only going to hurt each other more. We need space. We need to breathe. Our hearts need time to heal.”
She pulled her suitcase toward the door, just as it opened.
“Heaven? Desmond?” Shiermy’s cheerful voice cut through the tension. But her smile fell the moment she saw the luggage. “Where are you going? Why are you leaving?”
“I need to rest, Mom. If I stay here, I’ll break. I’ll lose my mind,” Heaven said quietly.
Shiermy turned her sharp gaze toward Desmond.
“What did you do?” she demanded.
Desmond ran a hand through his hair, guilt weighing down every breath. How could he admit something he couldn’t even remember?
“You’re really going to let your wife leave?” Shiermy pressed. “You’re just going to stand there and watch her walk out?”
“Don’t force me to stay here, Mom,” Heaven said softly. “I need to go. Even if Desmond begs me, even if he tries to stop me, I’m still leaving. There’s no reason for us to stay married anymore. Our child is gone.”
Shiermy looked between the two of them, realizing the depth of the rift. She exhaled slowly.
“Tell me what he did,” she said to Heaven. “If your reason is enough, I’ll let you go. I’ll even help you get away.”
Heaven swallowed hard.
“Desmond and Macie were together last night. He doesn’t remember anything, but they slept together.”
Shiermy’s jaw clenched. She turned to her son, eyes blazing.
“You… I cannot believe I raised a man like you.”
Silence.
That silence confirmed everything.
Shiermy took the suitcase from Heaven and guided her out of the room. She held her arm carefully as they descended the stairs, watching over her like a mother shielding her wounded child.
Desmond followed them only with his eyes, tears blurring his vision as his wife walked out of their home.
A hollow ache swallowed him whole.
His son was gone. And now his wife, his Heaven, was leaving him too.
His fist met the wall again, harder this time.
“This is my fault,” he choked out. “All of it. Damn it, Desmond. You idiot. You asshole!”
His cry echoed through the empty room but no one was left to hear him.