Chapter 118: Carl, What Have You Done?

ALMA

The sun spilled into the room like milk on a table, covering everything, and casting away the darkness but it couldn't wash off the gloom, the one stuck inside me. I shut my eyes to the brightness, and reopened them before dragging myself out of bed. It was morning again just like that.

The hours had ticked by, and another night had gone to waste just like that. I couldn't even say I woke up because frankly I never slept. Not a good wink. I had spent all night, stirring in bed, and thinking about Alice and Carl, imagining all the sort of things my mind could make up which was clearly a lot and perhaps too much. It was killing me, literally.

My chest felt more and more tighter with each passing moment. It felt like the walls were closing in on me and I couldn't stop replaying how painful it was to watch him leave last night. I had watched him through my bedroom window, throwing my head back to keep from crying. It was death in more ways than one.

I couldn't even begin to count how many times I thought of calling him despite everything. To hear his voice, and tell him everything so that he could tell me that there was nothing to worry about. That everything about that night was coincidental, and it really meant nothing.

I would like to believe that. I wanted to, and on a morning like this when missing him topped everything. I wanted to believe it. I grabbed my phone, and went through my missed calls, he hadn't called today. I sighed heavily, letting my thumb linger over his contact for a moment as I contemplated calling him.

I probably would have If I didn't happen to just inconveniently remember Alice calling him yesterday afternoon. Why? Why was she calling him then? It completely ticked me off, and It made calling him harder. I couldn't do it. I returned my phone to the table, feeling like an idiot for almost giving in—an exhausted and sleep deprived idiot at that.

I dragged myself to the bathroom, and splashed water on my face, grabbing the face towel, and dabbing at my face as I looked in the mirror briefly. At least I didn't wear my misery on my face. I hung the towel, and went downstairs to get coffee. It already feels like that kind of day.

I trudged down to the kitchen, and found Agatha there, arranging the shelf, "Good morning, ma'am," she greeted with a smile.

"Morning, Agatha," I replied, opening the fridge and helping myself to a glass of water first, chugging it down in one gulp.

"Do you want me to make you some coffee?" She asked the second I set the glass cup on the island, already walking to the coffee mixer.

I flashed her a smile, "You know me well. Yes, please."

She began making me coffee, and I took a seat at the dining table. "Did Velma eat breakfast before you took her to school?" I asked as she brought me my cup of coffee.

"Yes, I made her some sandwiches. I left some for you too. Should I bring them?" She asked.

I nodded, "Thank you."

Agatha served me the sandwiches, "Excuse me for a minute," she said, and left the kitchen. I took a bite from the sandwich, and a sip from my coffee when she returned with an envelope, "This came for you this morning," she says, extending me the big brown envelope.

I glanced at it, wearily. I didn't know why but something about it made me feel uneasy, "Came from whom?" I asked, taking it from her, and turning it over to see a contact or a name. There was neither.

"I don't know. There was no name or address written on it," she said.

"Must be a mistake, maybe. I'm not expecting anything from anyone," I dropped it on the table, still glancing at it with curiosity. I was weary of it, yes but also so fucking curious.

"The delivery man said it was definitely this house," Agatha commented, and I raised my head, "I asked him. I was worried it was delivered to the wrong house too, since there was no name or anything."

"Is that so?" I arched a brow, lowering my gaze to the envelope, and grabbing it. In that case I should take a look at what's inside then. I could feel Agatha's gaze on me as I held the envelope and it felt like she was just as curious as me but I don't know.

Somehow I found her gaze a little uncomfortable or maybe it was the fact that I didn't exactly know what I was expecting to find inside the envelope. I was too anxious to open it.

"I'll give you a moment," Agatha excused herself from the kitchen, and I was glad to be alone as I opened the envelope and slipped my fingers inside, pulling out the pictures.

The instant my gaze fell on the first photograph, my heart dropped to the table, and a gasp escaped from my lips as tears began to uncontrollably pool down my cheeks. No. No, no, no. I flipped through the pictures, trembling and sobbing as I looked through them over and over again.

It was all there, confirmation, proof of my worst nightmare. Alice, and Carl, entered his Suite, and he was wearing the same shirt as he was last night. The pictures were taken last fucking night.

ALICE HAD FUCKING ENTERED HIS SUITE!!!

Tears pooled down my cheeks, and my heart twisted in my chest. It burned. It stung. It fucking hurts like a knife going through my chest. "God!" I groaned, sobbing into my palms. This was a fucking nightmare.

"Ma'am. Are you okay?" I heard Agatha ask as I swung my head to the door. She was standing there, not daring to walk in, "Is everything okay?" She asked, probably noticing my tears, and I swung my head away from the door back to the photos.

I hastily grabbed them, slipping them back in the envelope hastily before getting out of my seat. "Ma'am?" Agatha called me, her tone one of concern.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," I lied, brushing past her, "I just need to be alone," I mumbled, rushing up the stairs with my heart in my legs. I was overwhelmed. I almost didn't make it to my bedroom before collapsing on the ground, and sobbing my heart out.

How could he do this to me? How could he? Carl had betrayed once again, and it felt even worse than the first time. Fuck! I couldn't stop the tears as they kept streaming down my face helplessly, just as helpless as I was feeling.

I wanted to believe that he hadn't done anything wrong just this morning that I had been mistaken but here it was now. The truth, and it hurts like fucking hell. I grabbed my phone and dialled Beverly. I didn't know who else to call.

The line rang for a minute and then she answered, "Hey, Alma. What's up?"

I didn't speak. I couldn't. My voice felt trapped in my lungs as I clutched the phone tightly, wiping my face.

"ALMA?" she called, and paused, "What's wrong?"

"Carl," I squeaked, squeezing out the words from my throat, "He cheated on me, Beverly. He cheated," I sobbed even harder now as the words left my lips.

"W-what??" She stuttered.