Present time…
Matthew
I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the memory of that fateful day. I am annoyed at myself at the thought of how easily I fell for Sarah's calculated act of vulnerability. Foolishly, I followed her inside her apartment, unaware that it would mark the beginning of my downfall.
But there is no time for regret now. My sole purpose is now seeking revenge against her. Every inch of me burns with a fiery determination to make her pay for what she has done to me.
I walk back to the bedroom to see what Sarah is doing.
After having the angry outburst and slapping me, she went straight to bed, it seems.
Her back is turned to me, and the soft rise and fall of her breathing are the only signs that she is still awake.
I linger in the doorway, watching her for a moment, my fists clenching at my sides. I should be more angry about the slap, but I feel strangely relieved to get that reaction out of her.
Her voice cuts through the silence, low and brittle. "Are you going to stand there all night, or are you coming to bed?"
I grit my teeth, stepping further into the room. "You don't get to act like the victim here, Sarah," I say.
She shifts slightly, rolling onto her back, her eyes meeting mine. "I am not. I just want to sleep."
"Go right ahead, princess," I scoff.
I storm out of the bedroom. The walls of the resort suite suddenly feel suffocating, like they're closing in on me, mocking my inability to control the situation with Sarah. I need to get out to clear my head.
It's late at night, but the resort pool is still lively. I don't bother joining the crowd. I am not exactly in the mood for socializing.
I find myself drawn towards the beach, the distant roar of the waves, a siren song promising a momentary escape from my tortured thoughts. The sand shifts beneath my feet as I walk.
"Hey there!" someone calls out.
I turn toward the voice.
A man who looks to be in his late thirties, with sun-kissed skin and an easy grin is staring at me. His partner, a woman with dark curls cascading over her shoulders, gives me a warm smile.
"You look like you could use a drink," she says, holding up a half-empty bottle of tequila. "Come join us."
For a moment, I hesitate. The last thing I want is company. But what the heck?
The man hands me a plastic cup filled with tequila. "I'm Mark, and this is my wife, Vanessa. We're celebrating our anniversary. Are you staying at the resort, too?"
I take the cup, nodding. "Yeah. Just needed some air."
Mark chuckles knowingly. "Ah, I get it. Women, huh? They can drive you crazy, but we can't live without 'em." He glances at Vanessa, who rolls her eyes but smiles, clearly used to his humor.
Vanessa leans forward, studying me with curious eyes. "You seem like you've got a lot on your mind. Care to share, or should we stick to small talk and tequila?"
I sip the drink, letting the warmth burn away some of my tension. "Let's just say relationships aren't exactly my strong suit."
Mark laughs a deep, hearty sound. "Join the club. You're looking at the king of messing things up." He raises his glass to Vanessa, who nudges him playfully.
Despite myself, I smirk.
"So, where is your wife?" Vanessa asks.
I pause, the question catching me off guard. "She's back in the room," I reply, keeping my tone neutral. I don't elaborate. No need to air dirty laundry to strangers, even if they seem harmless.
Vanessa tilts her head, her curiosity unhidden. "Trouble in paradise?" she asks, her voice soft but probing.
Mark nudges her lightly. "Vanessa, give the man a break. Not everyone wants to spill their guts to strangers on a beach."
She shrugs, offering me a small smile. "Fair enough. But sometimes, it helps to talk it out. No judgment here."
I sip my tequila, the burn grounding me. "It's complicated," I finally say, my voice clipped.
"I see. Well, why don't you two join us for lunch tomorrow?" Mark offers.
I hesitate. "Thanks, but I'm not sure," I say cautiously.
Vanessa waves a hand dismissively. "No pressure. Just thought it would be fun."
Mark nods in agreement. "The offer stands. We'll be at the beachside café around noon if you change your mind. Drinks are on me."
I nod, offering a polite smile. "I'll think about it."
Vanessa's gaze lingers on me for a moment as if she's trying to read between the lines of my terse responses. "Got things planned out already?"
"No, not really," I say. I barely want to be here with my so-called wife, let alone make plans with her.
Vanessa arches an eyebrow but doesn't press further. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find us," she says with a small smile, her tone light.
I nod in acknowledgment, finishing the tequila in my cup. The warmth spreads through my chest, dulling the sharp edges of my frustration but not erasing them.
"Thanks for the drink," I say, setting the cup down in the sand. "Enjoy your anniversary."
As I walk away, I hear them laugh and talk about nothing. I glance back once but see they've already turned their attention to each other, lost in their world.
I envy them, their simplicity, their warmth. I used to have that with Amanda before Sarah destroyed it.
I take a deep breath and turn back toward the resort.
I pause outside the door, my hand hovering over the handle. Part of me wants to turn around, to flee from the suffocating presence of the woman who shattered my world. But I know running is not an option. I chose to take this trip with her anyway.
I make my way to the bedroom, my footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. Sarah lies on the bed, her back to me, and the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders indicate she is sleeping. The sight of her, so seemingly innocent, ignites a fresh wave of anger.
How dare she rest so easily while my world is in shambles?
As if sensing my presence, Sarah stirs, rolling over to face me. Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine in the semi-darkness. For a moment, neither of us speaks.
"You're back," she murmurs, her voice heavy with sleep.
I don't respond, my gaze locked on hers, a silent battle of wills. She sits up slowly, the sheets pooling around her waist.
"Come to bed, Matthew," she says.
I hesitate for a moment before I take off my clothes and get into bed with her.
"I am sorry I slapped you," she says quietly.
Her apology catches me off guard. "You are…sorry?" I repeat lamely.
"Yes. No matter what you say to me, I should've never hit you," she says.
"Thanks," I mutter under my breath.
"I just… I didn't like you calling me that word. I am not a whore." Her voice wavers.
I feel a sharp pang in my chest, and the words she's throwing at me are pulling me in different directions. Part of me wants to dismiss her apology, to ignore it like everything else she's said and done. But another part of me can't ignore the sheer sadness in her eyes.
"I shouldn't have called you that," I admit quietly.
For a moment, there's nothing but silence between us. Then, Sarah turns away. "Let's just get some sleep," she whispers.
"Yeah, good idea," I agree before turning to my side.
~-~
Something jolts me awake at night. A noise. Someone whimpering?
I lie still, straining to listen, but the noise doesn't come again. The room is quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. I rub my eyes and glance at the clock—it's just past 3 AM.
I shake off the uneasy feeling, convincing myself it was nothing. But then, it comes again. A soft, muffled sound. It's coming from Sarah.
I turn toward her, my pulse quickening. She's tossing and turning now, her face twisted in discomfort. Her brow furrows, and she's murmuring something frantic under her breath.
"Matthew… please…"
I reach out cautiously, unsure if I should wake her or let her continue.
Her body tenses in her sleep, and she gasps.
I freeze, my hand hovering over her shoulder. Sarah's breathing becomes more rapid, and her murmuring intensifies.
"No… stop… please…" Her words are barely audible, but the fear in her voice is unmistakable.
A sudden realization hits me. She is having a nightmare. About me? A twisted sense of satisfaction briefly flickers through me. Good, let her suffer as I have. Let her feel the torment she's inflicted on me.
But as quickly as the thought comes, it's replaced by a strange, unfamiliar sensation. Is it… concern?
Sarah's whimpers grow louder, her body thrashing more violently. "Matthew, I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…"
Despite everything, seeing her like this stirs something inside me. Maybe it is the faint echo of the man I used to be before she shattered my world. The man who would have instinctively comforted her.
Hesitantly, I put her hand on her back and then rubbed it gently.
She starts sobbing then, her body trembling.
Is she faking this to gain my sympathy? It seems like the kind of thing she would do, wouldn't she?
I watch Sarah closely. But as her sobs intensify, her body shaking uncontrollably, I realize this is no act. The anguish etched on her face is too real.
"Please, don't hurt me," she whimpers, her voice small and broken. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"
Despite everything she's done, I can't help but feel a twinge of compassion.
Damn it.
Slowly, hesitantly, I reach out and gather her trembling form into my arms. She stiffens at first, as if expecting a blow, but then melts into my embrace, her tears soaking through my shirt.
"Shh, it's okay," I murmur, my voice low and soothing. "It's just a dream."
I stroke her hair as her sobs gradually subside into quiet sniffles. Her breathing slows, and her body relaxes against mine, the tension draining away.
Just for tonight, I will allow this human side of me.