Lose Me Once, And I'm Gone Forever

About an hour later, my husband's mistress texted me to open the door.

At the doorway, there they were—999 roses.

I bit my lip and stomped on them like a maniac, crushing them under my feet.

Again and again, until petals were crushed underfoot, scattering on the floor like a massacre of red, and I was too exhausted to stand.

Then my phone buzzed again—it was her sending me a text again.

This time, she sent a picture of dinner: a perfectly set table, candles glowing softly, and a homemade cake.

I noticed my husband's hand in the shot. Still wearing his wedding ring.

I stumbled back into the living room, grabbed the leftover bottle of whiskey, and drained it in one go.

I sank drunk on the couch and dialed the agent handling the island.

That stupid island. Once the symbol of our happiness, now it just made my skin crawl.

When the call ended, I passed out on the couch.

I woke up to the soft press of familiar lips on mine.

Heather's breath smelled faintly like cream.

"What's with all these cancellation texts? What'd you cancel?"

There was a nervous edge to his voice.

I sat up and leaned back, putting space between us. My voice was calm, almost detached.

"Oh, nothing. Just scanned some random QR codes yesterday. Figured I'd cancel them before they tried scamming me."

I glanced toward the doorway. The massacre of roses from last night had already been cleaned up by the staff.

I let out a small breath of relief.

"Did you finish your work?"

He nodded. His shoulders relaxed at my response before heading into the kitchen to make breakfast.

I picked up my phone to check on the island sale, but instead, I saw a new post blowing up online. Some random commenter who'd called Jennifer out the other day had now written this long, dramatic apology.

The reason? Jennifer had just been announced as the new face of a luxury brand.

Breakfast tasted like cardboard, and Heather wasn't doing much better.

He spent most of the meal staring at his phone, this faint, unreadable smile tugging at his lips.

When breakfast was done, he suddenly froze for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"Babe, something came up at work. I gotta head out. Don't worry about the dishes—I'll handle them later."

Before I could say anything, he'd already slipped on his shoes and was out the door.

He was so in a hurry that he didn't even take off his apron.

He didn't even have time to ask me why I'd been drinking last night.

Well, I guess there's only so much space in one heart. Once someone else moves in, there's no room left for you.

Not even five minutes after he left, Jennifer's name lit up my phone again.

This time, it was a photo of two sets of lingerie laid out on a bed—one black, one white.

[Hey! Which one do you think I should wear? If it were your husband, which would he like more?]

I didn't bother replying. I was too busy packing.

By the time I finished, every trace of me was gone from that villa.

On the way to the airport, I got a text from Heather.

[You sold the island? Why? What's going on?]

I typed my reply: [Make sure you're home to accept my gift. Oh, and Heather? You're out of chances.]

And then, I turned off my phone, pulled out the SIM card, and tossed it in the nearest trash.

Boarding the plane, I felt lighter.