Monday's chapter is EPOV! Thank you for readinggggg.


37
- out of love with you -

I had an affair with Edward.

I had an affair with Edward.

I had an affair with Edward.

At two in the morning, I get out of bed. I wasn't sleeping anyway, just tossing and turning and replaying everything.

Jared's face.

Edward's words.

This isn't how I expected any of this to go. I knew it'd be hard, but I didn't think I'd be this alone or broken. When I think about Jared and his reaction, any anguish and heartache I feel are immediately replaced with shame.

I check my phone but there are zero notifications. I'm both relieved and disappointed by this.

Heading downstairs, I keep the lights off and sit on the couch. And I wait.

At five a.m. I hear the front door open and close. Jared must have parked in the driveway because he usually comes through the garage door. If he parked in the driveway, that means he's not staying for long.

He finds me sitting in the living room, the lights still off, drinking my second cup of coffee. It's the blue hour, the sky not yet awakened. The dimness of the room makes this feel impossibly sadder.

Our gazes lock.

My eyes ache, my throat is dry, and my heart is bruised. It's my own doing, I know. He looks worse than I do, and he smells like alcohol.

"Where were you?" I quietly ask.

He doesn't say a word and ignores me, walking right up the stairs.

I don't go after him because I'm too worried about what will happen if I do. Too worried that I'll see his heart is bruised and bloodied, and knowing how badly I've hurt him will be too much.

He comes down only a few minutes later, a bag in hand.

Last night he told me he was done. I guess he truly is a man of his word.

"So, that's it? We aren't even going to talk about this?" I ask, sounding and feeling pathetic.

"You want to talk now, Bella?" he asks sternly, standing at the bottom of the stairs. "We should have talked before you fucked Edward. We should have talked before you decided to cheat on me. Now you want to talk?"

It's fair.

I don't know the right way to go about this. The aftermath is something I truly didn't play out in my head, and now that it's happening, I'm floundering with what to say and do.

"I can't even—" Jared starts to say, but he stops himself.

"What?"

"I can't even fucking look at you, let alone talk to you," he finally says, voice breaking. Emotion wells up in my chest, and my eyes blur with tears. He truly looks disgusted to see me. "I want to know everything. I want to know nothing. This is so fucked up, and I can't… I can't believe it's happening to us."

I nod, wiping my face with my shirt. "I'm sorry. I am, Jared. I know you don't believe me, but I didn't want it to be like this. Please understand that."

He lets out a bitter laugh. "I don't understand that. If you didn't want it to be like this, you wouldn't have done it."

Again, it's fair. But in the moments I spent with Edward, everything made sense. Everything felt right. There was no regard for anyone else, but I truly didn't want to hurt Jared.

"Just please tell me you didn't fuck him in our bed?" he asks.

I furiously shake my head. "No. No, I didn't."

The smallest amount of relief flashes over his face. "His bed?"

"No." I look down at my hands.

"Where?" he demands.

I stall.

Surely he doesn't want to know? Surely he wants to be spared these details.

"The first time was a few weeks ago. I was doing an open house and—"

"Stop," he blurts angrily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Stop. I don't want to hear this."

More tears fall down my cheeks, but I'm grateful I didn't have to go through with telling him.

We're quiet, and I don't know where we'll go from here.

"When I left last night, I went straight to the bar. I got drunk. And you know… there was this woman who started talking to me," Jared tells me, a cruel sneer on his face.

I feel sick.

"Please don't tell me this," I beg.

"She was a great listener. She was interested in me. She made me forget for a few hours that my life was truly fucked. When it came time to leave, I walked out with her and went to her apartment."

"Stop."

"Why? Because it hurts to imagine me with someone else?" he taunts. "How the fuck do you think I feel, Bella? Huh?"

I stand up and grab my phone, leaving the room and moving into the dark kitchen.

He follows.

"Ask me if I fucked her," he says sharply from behind me.

"No."

He grabs my arm, forcing me to turn around and look at him. "Fucking ask me if it felt good to fuck someone other than you, to have someone who didn't recoil from my touch. To fuck someone who wanted it as much as I did and didn't turn me down."

His fingers dig into my arm, making me wince.

"You're hurting me," I say firmly, despite how anxious I am.

"Good!" he yells. "You fucking hurt me!"

I struggle to be released from his grip and he finally lets me go. As I back away from him, against the wall, he lets out a laugh, like I'm pathetic.

"I slept on her couch, but I didn't fuck her," he finally admits. "I wanted to. I thought I'd be able to. When it came down to it, I just couldn't. I felt sick at the thought of fucking her because I love you. But I don't understand how you were able to have sex with someone who isn't me."

I can't look at him.

I can't.

My heart is beating too fast, anger and adrenaline and anguish swirling inside.

"But I think I know the answer to my question," he finally says. "You were able to fuck Edward because you're in love with him. I knew it the second you stepped in front of him, so I wouldn't hit him again."

I meet Jared's dark gaze.

I won't lie to him. Not about this. I won't apologize either.

"I do love Edward," I whisper.

He shakes his head. "Truly pathetic."

"How could I not fall in love with him?" I ask, knowing this will twist the knife and likely spark an entirely new fight, but at this moment, I don't care. "He paid attention to me. He put in the time and effort. He cares about me and Mikey, and he knows me better than you do."

"Someone shows you a little attention, and you cave," he wrongly assesses.

"He loves me, too," I somehow dare to say. Deep down, I know this. I know Edward can't give me a timeline and he refuses to ask me to wait for him. But I know he's in love with me, too. I know he's trying to do what's best, even if it hurts both of us.

"He's a spineless coward, and you're a whore," Jared spits, and my animosity spikes.

"Stop."

"What? It's true. You act like the victim but you're just a piece of trash," he says cruelly.

His venom-soaked words unleash my own.

"Maybe I am, but you lost your family because you're a narcissistic workaholic who cared more about controlling me than actually loving me."

"What the fuck do you mean I lost my family?" he yells in my face, stabbing my chest with a finger. "This is on you. You took my family away from me. You fucked this up."

I shake my head. "You don't even fucking care! Yesterday you said you were done!"

"I was pissed and hurt, but fuck, Bella! I'm not done. I need time, but I want us to eventually work this out. Yeah, I'm understandably hurt right now, but—"

"You tried to fuck someone else."

"You did fuck someone else!" he shouts back.

"Because I love him, and I don't want to be married to you anymore," I admit in a rush, the truth just waiting to spill out of me. I huff and breathe, and silence takes over.

All of my truths are out there now.

I don't want to try to work this out.

Edward or no Edward.

I want a divorce.

Jared's eyes flash with blind rage, sparking fear in me as he steps forward. His arm rears back, fist clenched. He follows through and swings, and for a split second, I believe he is going to hit me. Instead, he punches the wall next to my head.

Over and over and over again.

I hold my breath, and when he's done, a small, shocked gasp leaves my mouth. On instinct, I push him back, push him away from me.

"You need to leave. Now," I say, loud and firm, rage building inside that he would potentially try to scare me with physical violence.

He stands his ground. "Why should I be the one to go? You're the one who cheated."

"I would leave, but I'm not about to wake up Mikey and drag our poor son out of here," I say honestly, my heart racing. If I could leave, I'd go next door. Seek out Edward's comfort. It would make everything impossibly worse but again, I just don't care.

"You're not taking my son anywhere," he says darkly, then adds, "Ever."

The sheer panic on my face must fuel his desire to hurt me back.

Part of me understands.

The other part hates him right now.

I hate him for insinuating that he'll try to use Mikey to hurt me.

This isn't the Jared I know. He's acting out of anger and betrayal. His pride is wounded. My heart sinks when I wonder if he's thinking the same thing—I'm not the Bella he once knew, either.

But he'd be right. I'm not. I've changed. I've realized I want more. I need more. I expect more.

"Get out," I say again, punctuating each word with fury.

Jared stares me down, and I want to cry again, but I hold my tears in. I stare back and stand my ground. Stay strong.

"Fuck you," he mutters. "Fuck. you."

He steps forward again.

I move to the side, around him. I focus on my phone, ready to call or text Rose for backup. If Jared refuses to leave, maybe Emmett can make him.

Jared's jaw ticks, his eyes on my cell.

"What—are you going to call him?" he taunts.

"No."

"Give me your phone."

"No."

He reaches for it. "I pay for it."

I hold it tight in my palm and panic that he will take it from me and read all of my messages to Edward. I worry he'll go through my photos and see the ones Edward and I took in my client's house.

"Give me your fucking phone!" Jared roars. "Show me what that fucker said to you to get you to open your legs for him."

I move the phone behind my back, and he shifts closer to tower over me, reaching behind me and feeling for it. He grabs my wrist tightly, forcing my arm in front of us. My grip tightens, but it's hard to hold the phone when he's pulling on it.

"Fucking show me, Bella!"

We fight for control.

Panic rises.

He squeezes my wrist harder, ignoring my "ows" and still yanking at the device.

And then we hear it.

Mikey screaming.

Crying.

Standing right there in the kitchen doorway in his pale blue pajamas looking so fucking scared.

Jared instantly steps away from me.

I rush over to Mikey.

"It's okay, baby," I tell him, picking him up into my arms.

I hate that he heard us. That he saw us. I hate that he woke up and walked all the way downstairs by himself in the dark. He could've gotten hurt. And all for what? For Jared to confirm what he already fucking knows?

I glance toward Jared, who looks a bit stunned. Seeing his son has snapped him out of his rage, and all I can gauge on his face now is shame and guilt. I'm glad to see it because it dampens my worry that he might use Mikey against me. His face says it all—even if he wants to hurt me, deep down he doesn't want to hurt his son.

Jared moves closer, but I stare him down, still not over what just transpired. All he does is smooth Mikey's hair from his face and rub his back.

"It's okay, buddy. You're okay," he says in a hushed tone, so unlike the last words he screamed at me.

Mikey lays his head on my shoulder and quiets down.

I glare at Jared and move away.

"I'm leaving," I tell him, and I start to move, but he stops me.

"No. No, I'll go," he mutters, and it is clear guilt is driving this decision. He kisses Mikey's temple. "I love you, bud. I'll see you in a few days," he tells him, but his eyes are on me, so I assume it's more for my knowledge than Mikey's. Maybe he will take a few days to cool off, and then we can have another conversation.

I follow Jared through the living room. He lingers by the door like he wants to say something, like apologize or… I don't know.

"Don't. Just go," I tell him, exhausted. I don't want to hear it. I doubt he wants to hear anything I have to say either.

I realize after a second I have no idea where he's going. To his parents? To work? Back to that stranger he thought he could've fucked?

I feel sick all over again, but I push it away because he grabs his bag and goes. Locking the door behind him, I kiss and whisper apologies to Mikey, reassuring him it's all okay.

"Wanna sleep in the big bed with Momma, baby?" I ask him, and he nods, his head still on my shoulder as I walk us upstairs.

We snuggle close while he sucks his thumb. It's something he hasn't done since he was two, and God, the guilt. I'm drowning in it.

I wait for Mikey to fall asleep to cry. I don't want him to hear or see me, so I keep it quiet, silent tears streaming down my cheeks and onto my pillow.

When I close my eyes, all I can see is the cruel sneer on Jared's face, and hear the rage in his voice.

I don't sleep even when Mikey does.

I don't eat when he has breakfast.

All I do is replay my argument with Jared over and over and over again. It's on a loop. A moment I'll never forget. And when the bruises on my arm and near my elbow begin to appear, it's just one more reminder of the mistakes we've both made.