It All Started With Love Getting Lost

Five days had passed since I walked out of James’s life, carrying only the essentials and the shattered pieces of my heart. On the fifth day, my phone rang. His name appeared on the screen, stirring a rush of emotions within me. I wondered if he would ask why I had been gone so long, if he’d finally noticed I wasn’t there.

But his tone was cool, almost indifferent. “Hey, where did you put the silk tie I bought last month?”

I closed my eyes, clenching the phone, but I still managed to tell him exactly where he’d left it, word for word.

Once he found it, he continued without so much as a pause, “Don’t stay wherever you are. Book the earliest flight back and don’t forget to attend the charity banquet tonight.”

I couldn’t stop the humorless laugh that slipped out, cold and sharp. After disappearing for five days, he assumed I was merely “traveling.” How blind I’d been to waste my youth on a man like this, a man who didn’t even notice his wife had left.

Sitting on the steps outside the maternity clinic, I looked down at the appointment slip in my hand—an abortion scheduled for today. My fingers trembled as I replied, “I won’t be back. Why don’t you ask Sandra to be your date?”

Sandra Wilson. His secretary and the daughter of a wealthy family. She’d attached herself to him after he’d “heroically” saved her from a minor car accident, worming her way into his life, from a lowly assistant to his personal secretary and finally... into his bed. It was old gossip at his office and yet I had chosen to stay blind, to believe he loved only me. Until that day in his office shattered everything.

Silence stretched between us for a moment before James’s voice filled with anger. “Nadine, what’s gotten into you? Sandra is my secretary, not some slave for you to boss around. When did you become so bitter? It’s just a simple matter; can’t you just cooperate with me?”

The way he spoke her name, so soft and gentle, a stark contrast to the way he spat out mine—it cut deeply. I bit down on my lip, swallowing the tears that threatened to spill. The nurse’s voice called my number and, more out of a desire to escape the phone call than anything else, I ended the call without another word.

It had been his routine for years: if he wanted me to bend to his will, he’d needle at my insecurities, remind me of my past, an orphan with no family to protect me. He’d keep at it, relentless, until I caved, breaking down in helpless tears and finally... I would submit.

But this time, he couldn’t break me. After five missed calls, he gave up. As I lay on the cold operating table, staring at the sterile instruments above me, a wave of nausea hit. I felt a faint, almost imperceptible movement from within—our baby, so fragile and vulnerable. It felt like they were pleading with me, asking me to protect them.

I squeezed my eyes shut, memories of James's betrayal flashing before me, but I couldn’t go through with it. I sat up, told the doctor I couldn’t go through with it and left, my decision final. After gathering myself, I called James, ready to tell him everything, hoping that maybe—just maybe—he would finally listen.

But he barely let me speak before he launched into a tirade. “You vindictive woman! Who gave you the right to harass Sandra?”

I was stunned, completely lost. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play innocent with me! You refused to come to the banquet and then you go behind my back, threaten Sandra not to go and even assaulted her!”

I could hear the pure venom in his voice as he sneered, “Sandra never did anything to you. After seven years, Nadine, I’m finally seeing who you truly are—a vile, spiteful woman.”

The accusation left me numb. He didn’t give me a chance to explain, dismissing every word I tried to say. After hanging up, I stumbled out of the clinic, barely noticing the rain that had started to fall. Cold drops mixed with my tears, blurring my vision.

Through the haze, I noticed a sleek black car pull up at the curb—a Maybach. I recognized it immediately and froze. As if in a daze, I watched as James got out and walked toward me, his face contorted with anger. Before I could say anything, he raised his hand and slapped me, the sting searing across my cheek.

“How dare you pretend to be traveling?” he spat, fury evident in every word.

I barely felt the physical pain, though. My mind was spinning as I asked, horrified, “Did you... did you put a tracker on me?”

His silence was my answer. He grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the car without another word. So much for protecting Sandra’s “freedom”—he thought nothing of invading mine. And yet, during the entire five days I was gone, he hadn’t even checked the tracker. Not once. Only when he believed I’d caused trouble for Sandra did he bother to look.

How twisted, how laughably cruel.

When we returned to the house, he locked me in the dark, empty storage room on the second floor, saying he wouldn’t let me out until I “apologized willingly” to Sandra.

Left alone in the darkness, I felt waves of nausea and trembling hit me again. The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps outside the door and I recognized Sandra’s shrill, mocking laughter.

“Oh, James,” she purred, her voice almost giddy, “why did you have to lock her up here? Couldn’t we just ignore her?”

“After all,” he replied softly, his voice barely a murmur but dripping with contempt, “she’s nothing more than a stray, a nuisance.”

Outside the door, they exchanged murmurs of affection, their voices intertwining. My stomach twisted painfully as I sank against the wall, gripping my knees to my chest. It felt as though they were tearing me apart from the inside, bit by bit.

“Do you have a cat, James?” Sandra giggled, just outside the door. “I keep hearing scratching and rattling.”

Without missing a beat, he replied, “No cat. Probably just a filthy rat causing trouble.”

Then, in a quieter voice, he said, “Sandra, the dinner’s about to start. Let’s head out.”

I thought they were finally gone when a sudden flood of light hit my face. I shielded my eyes and looked up to find Sandra standing over me, a satisfied smirk on her face.

“Well, well, Nadine,” she purred, “so this is where you’ve been hiding.”