2

Giselle didn’t let him reach the door. She lunged forward and grabbed his arm, her fingers digging into him. Her vision already blurring as tears welled up in her eyes. And when she could not hold it any longer, a hot tear tracked down her cheek.

"No," she choked out. "No, Chase. Our marriage cannot be over. It just can't."

Chase looked down at her hand as if it were a stain he couldn't wait to scrub off. "Giselle, let go of me. You’re being too dramatic."

"Please Chase don’t do this to me, you promised me forever. I am your wife for godsake. I can’t even imagine not being your wife anymore!" she cried, her voice cracking as she tried to suppress her tears. "You promised me, Chase. At the altar, in front of everyone, you promised to love me and take care of me. You swore you would stay. You have to fulfill your promise. You can't just hand me a piece of paper and walk away like three years meant nothing!"

"Promises change when the person changes," he said, his voice terrifyingly calm.

"No you haven't changed! You’re still my husband, the man I married, and I’m still here, still your wife, Chase!" She stepped into his space, forcing him to look at her. "Please, Chase. Don't leave me. Just stay for one night. Make love to me. I can’t even remember the last time you really touched me. I can't remember the last time you looked at me like you actually saw me."

She took his hand and tried to pull it toward her waist. She was desperate. She was begging. She wanted her baby to touch her again. "Just kiss me. Touch me. Make me feel like a woman again. Make me feel like I’m yours. We can fix this if we just try."

Chase pulled his hand back with such force that she stumbled. He looked at her with disdain, then his face melted into pity and then annoyance.

"Get a grip, Giselle," he snapped. "Look at yourself. Look at you begging. It’s pathetic. It’s over. The spark is dead. I’ve been over this marriage for a long time."

He stepped over to the bed, snatched the white envelope from the pile of rose petals, and shoved it into her shaking hands.

"Take them," he ordered. "I tried my best to love you. I really did. But at this point, I am tired of stringing you along. I’m tired of coming home to a woman who expects things from me that I don’t want to give anymore."

Giselle clutched the envelope to her chest while her eyes burned as she stared him trying to recognize the man standing in front of her. The paper felt like ice against her skin. She felt a lump in her throat so thick she could barely breathe. She was choked with emotion, her chest heaving as she tried to process the coldness in his eyes.

The man standing in front of her wasn’t her husband, there was no way that the man she gave her virginity to would turn around and hurt her the way he was doing.

Chase turned his back on her and headed for the door again.

"How long?" she called out.

He stopped in his tracks, his hand hovering over the door handle. He didn't turn around.

"How long have you been seeing her?" Giselle asked. Her voice was steadier now, fueled by a sudden needle of pain.

Chase sighed, his shoulders dropping. "It’s been about a year, Giselle."

"A year," she whispered. "A whole year of lying to my face. A year of coming home to me after being with her. Does she know about us? Is she okay with you 'eating from different pots' like you say?"

Chase finally turned around. He leaned against the doorframe, looking bored. "Actually, yes. She’s fine with it. At least she lets me be a man in my truest nature. She understands that I am polygamous at heart. She doesn't try to cage me or make me feel guilty for being who I am."

Giselle felt something inside her finally snap. The desperation vanished, replaced by a cold, numbing clarity. The man standing in front of her wasn't the man she had married. He was a stranger who had been mocking her love and making a joke out of her for the past one year.

She had felt her friends Serayah and Lawrose were overexaggerating when they tried to tell her she was losing herself over a man that no longer cared about her. But she could see they were right afterall.

"Are you being for real?" Giselle laughed, though it sounded more like a sob. "You mean she lets you be a cheating liar and a bastard. She lets you be a coward. No sane woman will ever want to share her man unless…"

"Believe whatever helps you sleep at night," Chase said.

"If that’s the case," Giselle said, standing tall despite the tears hopelessly streaming down her face, "then I won't hold on to you for another second. Get out, Chase. Get out of this room and get out of my life."

Chase didn't say another word. He didn't look back. He opened the door and walked out, the click of the lock sounding like a gavel in a courtroom.

Giselle collapsed onto the bed. She sat among the rose petals and the scent of expensive perfume, waiting. A small, foolish part of her hoped the door would swing back open. She hoped he would realize he made a mistake and come back to hold her.

One minute passed. Five. Ten. The silence was the only thing that stayed. And it broke her even more, her love was gone.

She reached for her phone with trembling fingers. She couldn't call her mother. She couldn't call her sister because they warned against her marriage. She opened her group chat with the only two people who would understand; Serayah and Lawrose.

So she typed: Hey Divas’ over. Chase served me divorce papers on fucking valentine’s day. He’s been cheating for a year. So It’s over. This is end.

The responses that came in were almost instant.

Serayah: WHAT?! Giselle, tell me you’re joking.

Lawrose: Oh honey, no. Absolutely not. Where are you?

Serayah: Send us your location right now. We’re coming to get you.

Giselle tapped the screen to share her location at the hotel. She dropped the phone on the bed and buried her face in her hands.

The sob that escaped her was loud, bawling and howling off the walls of the beautiful, empty suite. She cried for the three years she had lost. She cried for the children she would never have with him, so it made sense to her now, the reasons why he had placed her birth control pills and advice they pause on child bearing until after three years of their marriage. He was not sure about her all the while he was the love of her life.

She cried until she felt empty. Then, she stood up and looked at the champagne bottle. If her marriage was dead, she might as well toast to the funeral.