A Quiet Kind of Ruin

Throughout my recovery, Roman never showed.

Only his texts arrived like clockwork, like a daily reminder.

[Caught up with family business troubles, can't make it.]

[Stop throwing a tantrum. Once you're out of the hospital, I'll whisk you away to Sivella for some fun. Isn't that what you've been dreaming of?]

[Is your wound still hurting? Make sure you change the bandages on time, okay?]

Each text he sent felt like he was just going through the motions.

Right after each of Roman's half-hearted updates, Liliana's messages would pop up on my phone like a snake sneaking into my room.

They were all pictures.

There was Roman, apron on, stirring a pot of soup in the kitchen. The guy was a total neat freak and would not be caught dead cooking.

Then one of Roman, crouched down, gently massaging her twisted ankle. The man used to moan about how my high heels were a hassle.

There was also one where he was dressed up in some goofy mascot costume, making a fool of himself just to get a laugh out of her. I had never seen him stoop to such silliness.

One sleepless night, the pain from my injury gnawing at me, I impulsively dialed Roman's private number.

The phone rang once, twice, thrice...

Then, it cut off.

There was no answer.

I kept redialing, stubborn as ever.

On the seventh try, Liliana's text interrupted me.

[Eleanor, can you just not? Roman and I are in the middle of something.]

A video followed the message.

The thumbnail showed the limited edition tie I had given Roman for our second anniversary, then carelessly thrown over the side of a messy hotel bed.

My hands shook as I tapped to play it.

There was Liliana, in her skimpy nightie, disheveled and flushed, sprawled across a plush bed.

Suddenly, she propped herself up and grabbed Roman, who was trying to leave, her feverish face pressing against his rigid back.

"Roman...don't go... I feel awful... That last drink... I think someone spiked it..."

Roman froze.

He turned to look at her, her eyes glazed and breathing ragged, and his Adam's apple bobbed hard.

Then he lifted his hand and ended the call that was still ringing. It was my call.

He gently scooped Liliana up in his arms and laid her back in the middle of the bed, then drew the covers up to her chin. His voice, low and restrained, filtered through the video. "I'm here for you. Just until the meds wear off."

Then the screen went black, leaving only a vague grunt and Liliana's soft, smug giggle.

I sat in the dark hospital room, shivering, feeling like I had been plunged into an icy pond.

The glow from my phone cast a ghostly pallor on my face.

That night, I dialed Roman's number about 999 times. He did not pick up once. It was not until the sky began to lighten that he finally texted me, his words as chilly as the dawn.

[Had an emergency last night, didn't see my phone.]

I read those words and burst into laughter, tears streaming as my heart felt as if it were torn in two.

Emergency.

'So, his emergency was playing the knight by another lady's bedside,' I mused bitterly.

The day I got out of the hospital was also my third wedding anniversary with Roman. He came to get me himself, making quite the show of it. He had reserved the most exclusive private club in Hudson City and thrown a lavish party.

All the city's who's who were there.

In front of everyone, Roman clasped a necklace with a pigeon blood-red gemstone around my neck. It was big and sparkly and felt like it weighed a ton. He leaned in close and murmured in my ear, his voice as tender as it used to be. "Eleanor, happy third anniversary."

The crowd around us oohed and aahed with envy and praise.

However, to me, that necklace felt like an icy manacle, so tight I could barely breathe. The gem's glare was sharp enough to hurt my eyes.

The party buzzed with the scent of perfume and the sound of laughter. I plastered on a smile, feeling more like a marionette than a hostess.

Eventually, I could not take it anymore and made up an excuse to slip away to the restroom. I rounded a quiet corner in the hallway, ready to take a breath, but a figure was already there, leaning against the wall, blocking my path.

There she was, Liliana, looking like she had stepped out of a fashion magazine with her flawless makeup and that smirk that could cut glass.

"Oh, isn't this the belle of the ball, Mrs. Jackson?" Her voice dripped with a sweetness that made my skin crawl, laced with a sneer. "Roman's really outdone himself for you, hasn't he? This whole show, that necklace... Wow, feeling like a winner yet?"

I had zero time for her drama. I spun on my heel to leave, but she was quick, stepping in front of me, trapping me. "What's with the act, high and mighty?" She hissed, her breath a toxic cloud. "Forgot how you sobbed to the cops at the hospital? How Roman made you sign that forgiveness letter? Or how he dragged me out of that mess?

"Eleanor, who do you think you are? Roman and I? We've been through hell and back for 15 years! Our love's etched in our very bones!

"And you, just waltzing in and taking over as Mrs. Jackson? Why shouldn't I despise you? I'd be happy to see you dead!"

Her words were like a flurry of poisoned blades, tearing into my already scarred heart. I went pale, desperate to shove her aside, to escape this nightmare.

However, she lunged, her grip iron on my wrist, her nails like talons digging into my barely healed scars.

I could not help but cry out from the sharp pain.

"You got lucky at the hospital," she whispered, her voice a sinister hiss. "Let's see if your luck holds up this time."

No sooner had she spoken than two hulking men in black suits stepped out from the shadows, their eyes murky, their faces all hard lines. They did not say a word when they grabbed me, one on each side, and hauled me off like I was nothing into a pitch-black room that promised nothing good.

"Stop! What are you doing to me? Liliana!"

I fought with all my might, my screams piercing the air, but I was powerless against the brute force of two men.

Liliana trailed behind us, her high heels tapping a sharp, merciless rhythm on the floor.

Her face was lit up with a twisted, venomous grin.

"Oh, Eleanor, you think you're so above it all, don't you? Mrs. Jackson, huh? Well, tonight, I'm going to shatter that image of yours! Let's see if Roman will still want you after he sees what a mess you've become!"

I was flung onto the icy carpet of an empty room with a thud.

One of the men snickered vilely as he started to unbuckle his belt.

The thick smell of booze and body odor assaulted my senses.

Despair washed over me like a dark, suffocating wave.