Love to the End, Hard to Stop

All night long, sleep eluded me. My eyes stayed open, staring into the darkness as silent tears streamed down my face. The minutes dragged into hours, the hollow ache in my chest intensifying with every passing second. The sky outside began to lighten with the approach of dawn, but there was no relief in its arrival—only a dull, gnawing emptiness where peace used to reside. Every creak of the house seemed to echo the weight of my loneliness.

Then, I heard the familiar sound of the front door clicking open. Finn, thinking he could sneak back in without being noticed, had returned. I dragged myself out of bed, my body heavy with exhaustion and made my way to the hallway. With a quick flick, I turned on the light, the sudden brightness startling him. His eyes darted up, meeting mine for a brief moment before he looked away, his guilt palpable.

“Up so early?” was all he muttered, barely audible as he shuffled inside.

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over my chest, my gaze fixed on him with a cold intensity. “Back to change clothes?” The words fell from my lips, coated in bitterness, each syllable carrying the weight of my disappointment.

Finn’s eyes flickered with something—nervousness, perhaps—before he quickly diverted his attention, mumbling a vague, “Mm.” He toed off his shoes and moved toward me, arms outstretched, his expression softening into a poor imitation of affection. The attempt felt like a mockery.

Without warning, he wrapped himself around me from behind, his breath hot against my neck as he whispered in that familiar, too-smooth voice, “I’m sorry, Honey. I’ve been so busy with work lately. I know I’ve been neglecting you. How are you gonna punish me?” He let his words linger, teasing the air as his lips brushed my skin. His grip tightened around me, his hands roaming, as though he thought he could erase everything with a few empty words and wet kisses. A wave of revulsion swept over me, stronger than I could bear. The feeling of his touch, once comforting, now made my skin crawl. I shoved him away, stepping back with force, the cold distance between us growing palpable. The silence that followed felt like a suffocating shroud.

Finn’s expression froze, his hands hanging awkwardly in the space between us.

“Still mad about last night?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion, as if he couldn’t fathom why I would still be upset. I didn’t bother to answer. I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, speechless. The echo of my footsteps seemed to mock him as I retreated to the sanctuary of the bedroom.

Back in the bedroom, I sat down on the edge of the bed, my hands trembling with anger and disgust. Moments later, I heard him moving about the house, the rustle of fabric as he changed clothes in the cloakroom. Each sound felt like a reminder of the betrayal I had endured.

When Finn reappeared, he was immaculately dressed, his sharp suit tailored to perfection, making him look every bit the successful businessman he pretended to be. His eyes skimmed the room until they landed on me, the slightest hint of discomfort in his gaze.

“There’s a reunion this evening,” he said casually, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt as if nothing had happened between us. “I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up for me.”

I stared at him, my voice cold as ice when I finally spoke. “A reunion and you’re not taking me along?”

For a brief second, Finn faltered. He paused mid-step, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve always hated noisy places,” he said smoothly, his tone too light. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, of course. You can come along if you don’t mind the noise.”

He tilted his head, waiting for my response, his expression full of fake politeness. I met his gaze, unflinching, before slamming the bedroom door shut in his face. The finality of the action reverberated through the house, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake.

Just last month, after Tonia reappeared in our lives, Finn asked me to quit my job and stay at home. He phrased it kindly, saying his income was more than enough to support us, that I didn’t need to exhaust myself anymore. At the time, I thought he was simply being considerate, caring even. But now, in the cold light of everything I had learned, the real reason became painfully clear. He didn’t want me anywhere near the company—near him and Tonia—where I might notice something suspicious. The more I thought about it, the more aggrieved I felt, like the walls of my world were slowly closing in on me.

That evening, unable to suppress my mounting anger and sorrow, I reached out to a classmate and managed to get the address of their so-called "reunion." It wasn’t hard to find—the Midnight Pulse nightclub, a place I’d heard Finn mention in passing. I dressed myself up, a small act of defiance and drove there, my heart pounding in my chest. Room 305. I stood outside the door, my hand hovering just above the doorknob before knocking, each knock resonating with my pent-up frustration.

The door creaked open, revealing Tonia. Her presence was striking, seductive even, her perfectly styled hair and clingy dress all too familiar. She was wrapped around Finn like a second skin, her smile wide and unbothered as she took me in with a cursory glance. The scent of her perfume hit me first—the same scent I had smelled on Finn before—and there it was, the lipstick mark on his collar, confirming everything I had suspected. The sight was a brutal confirmation of my worst fears.

“Oh, hi there,” Tonia said with a sugary tone, her voice dripping with false politeness. She probably didn’t know I was Finn’s wife. “Sorry, but I think you’ve come to the wrong room. This room is booked for a private party.”

Finn stepped forward, his eyes widening in panic. Before I could say anything, he blurted out hastily, “Don’t you hear her? Go away. You’ve got the wrong room.”

My heart sank. It wasn’t the words themselves—it was the cold indifference, the way he slammed the door shut in my face, cutting me off completely. He didn’t even offer an excuse or an apology. I stood frozen for a moment outside that door, unable to move, the weight of betrayal so heavy that I felt crushed beneath it. The world seemed to spin around me, the reality of my shattered trust settling in with cruel finality.

When I got back home, the emptiness swallowed me whole. I collapsed onto the couch, the tears coming in a flood as I cried bitterly for the neglect and injustice I had suffered. I reached for a bottle of red wine that had been stored for a special occasion—ironic, given the day’s events—and uncorked it. I poured myself a glass, then another and another, the liquid doing little to numb the pain. I turned the TV volume up to drown out the deafening silence, but all I could hear were my own thoughts, spinning with images of Finn and Tonia together.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, wallowing in my grief and disappointment, before the door creaked open again. Finn stumbled in, his body reeking of alcohol. He frowned when he saw me, quietly changing his shoes and then settling down beside me on the couch, as if nothing was wrong. The contrast between his demeanor and the pain he had caused was jarring.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, his voice thick with the effects of the night’s drinks. “Most of the people at the party were men and things just got a bit out of hand…”

I kept my eyes on the TV, staring blankly at the screen. My voice was wooden, devoid of any emotion as I responded. “It’s okay. I understand. You all have to curry favor with the boss’s daughter and hope for her help at work.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He blinked, surprised, before quickly nodding in agreement. “Right… exactly. Don’t be angry, though. It was just a social event. There’s nothing between us, I swear.” He reached out, trying to pull me into an embrace, but I moved away, just enough to make it clear I didn’t want him near me.

“Okay,” I muttered, my tone final.

But even as I said the words, my mind replayed the scene from that night—the two of them, entangled in each other’s arms on that hotel bed. Finn had become a stranger to me, someone who lied with ease, as if it had become second nature. I had seen a classmate’s post on social media earlier; the party had ended two hours ago. Yet, here he was, offering more empty words and excuses. What else was he hiding?

Finn went to shower and I heard the faint sound of something falling from his coat pocket. Curious, I picked it up and realized it was a small blue pill, some sort of Viagra. My lips curled into a sneer as I inspected it—he was already taking pills? Was this what it took to keep up with Tonia’s demands? We had only been married for three years, not even close to the so-called seven-year itch, yet the cracks in our relationship were deepening fast, hastened by Tonia’s return.

I was the daughter of the Delacroix Family—a family that ran the most prestigious company in the area. I had grown up with privilege, wealth and pride. Drivers, maids, a sheltered life where I had never needed to lift a finger. He knew very well that I was far more capable than him, both academically and professionally. And yet, I had humbled myself for him, made myself small to fit into his world, becoming the perfect supportive wife. I had stood behind him in every way, even when I could have easily outshone him. My sacrifices seemed to fade into insignificance compared to the betrayal I now faced.

My family had provided everything, yet here I was, cleaning up after him, chasing after his needs like some servant. For what? For him to throw it all back in my face, for him to cheat on me with some girl who had barely entered the workforce?

Tears welled up again as I took another large gulp of wine. My chest ached with a sadness I couldn’t even begin to put into words. The bitterness of the wine did nothing to counteract the bitterness of my reality.

Just one sentence—“Go away. You’ve got the wrong room”—erased everything. All the years, the love, the trust, the sacrifices I had made. Seven years of love, four years of courtship, three years of marriage… all gone in an instant.

This was the man I had given my heart to. Seven years, wasted.