John walked inside his house that evening after the shooting of the film. He closed the door behind him, and hung his coat on the coat hanger. He walked to the living room, where Cynthia was. He saw her sitting on the sofa while watching the television. Perhaps soap opera?
"John, you're home," she said, and turned off the television. "Do you want to have dinner?"
"No, thanks. I just had one with the lads and Dick Lester," he said with a serious look on his face. "Cynthia, we need to talk."
She stood up from the sofa, and slowly walked towards her famous husband.
"What do you want to talk about?" she asked gently.
"About our marriage, and what a failure it is," he said with not a single expression on his face.
"John, I said I'm sorry about the affair," she said. "I should've not done that."
"And you should've thought about it before," he said. "Honestly, Cynthia, why can't you be careful?"
Tears started to form on her kind and warm eyes, and she had to cover her mouth to hold back the tears. He looked at her eyes, and he didn't care if she was sad or angry.
"I'm leaving you, Cynthia," he said.
Did Cynthia hear it wrong?
"What?" she said, and uncovered her mouth. She looked at him with a shocked look on her face.
"I'm leaving you, Cyn. I don't want to be married with you anymore. I don't love you like I used to." He said.
Tears started to stream down her face.
"You can't do that!" she said.
"I can do the fuck that I want to do," he said sternly. "And that means I can fucking leave you, Cynthia!"
She sobbed, and looked at him sadly as tears dropped.
"What about Julian?" she asked. "He needs a father, you know?"
He pursed his lips, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. What about Julian? John hadn't spent much time with Julian.
"I can't be his father, Cyn," he said, rather softly. "He needs a father, who will always be there. And unfortunately, I can't do both, because I am very busy. I hadn't even spent much time with him since he was born. He won't be able to be a part of my Beatles lifestyle."
She'd stopped crying by now. She wiped the tears away from her face, and she was very sad of the fact that John was going to leave her. It was one of her fears. She was afraid that John was going to leave her. And he was. He was right, actually. He hadn't spent his time with Julian since he was born. She looked at him sadly, and asked:
"Why are you leaving me, John?"
"Because I don't love you like I used to, like I've said," he said, and paused for a short while. "And…I love this girl…the word 'girl' isn't appropriate for her. I love this young lady, and she has the same feeling towards me. I know that she'll always be true unlike you. That rhymed, now, didn't it? Anyway, she may not be perfect to some people, but she is perfect to me. I've been quite a bastard to her, but she doesn't mind. And this young lady is Prudence Lester."
She looked at him in disbelief and her eyebrows were raised. "John…are you telling me that you're in love with a seventeen-year-old immature little girl?" she asked him slowly, holding back her anger. "Am I hearing this correctly?"
He suddenly slapped her on the face, because she said Prudence was an immature little girl.
"You don't know her like I know her, so don't fucking call her an immature little girl!" he said angrily.
"I know her very well, John," she retorted while rubbing her hand on her cheek, which he slapped on. "She's a fucking home wrecker, and just another crazy, obsessive Beatlemania!"
He slapped her again—harder this time. "Shut the fuck up, Cynthia! I fucking love her, and I want to be with her, instead of with you!" he said, and walked to the front door.
"Where are you going, John?" she asked him from the living room, and she heard the front door shutting.
She sat on the floor, and bent her legs. She wrapped her arms around her legs, buried her face on her knees, and cried all of the rest of her tears out.
She certainly couldn't hold back her tears lately. She couldn't believe that John was leaving her for Prudence Lester! She sobbed even harder. If John was there, and she was crying about something else, he would be there to comfort her.
She remained crying in the dark living room until she no longer felt like crying. She was furious at Prudence Lester—very furious.