A/N - So yeah, you're probably all going to hate me after this. I've decided to end it at chapter 10. That means there are 3 more chapters for me to completely ruin their lives. I do apologize but lately all I want to do is destroy them. So let the destruction begin! Enjoy (if you dare)...
Her hands were shaking as she stared at them. Stephanie drew a quivering breath and stared at her nails blankly. Every so often she sniffed and wiped at her eyes. This was a disaster. It had been from the moment she said the fateful words…actually, it had been from the moment she let that bastard touch her in the locker room all those weeks ago.
Four days ago she had told her husband what she had done and for four days she hadn't seen him. It was now Sunday night and on top of the heartbreak she was suffering, Stephanie was now dealing with the anxiety over having to answer the mountain of questions no doubt coming her way if Paul didn't turn up for Raw. She had been able to ignore her parents for the weekend and it seemed Paul had gone to the office Thursday and Friday because her father hadn't come screaming that he was missing. Whatever he was doing, he was successfully avoiding her. How could she blame him after what she had done? The truth was, she had considered going to see him at work but chickened out. Those two days had been the least productive days of her life, not to mention the worst. The fact that he was literally footsteps away and yet she felt like he could have been on the other side of the world killed her. That's how distant they were right now. Again, how could she blame him?
She harbored a slight edginess over the fact that he had seemingly abandoned her and their kids. Stephanie felt another onslaught of tears welling up behind her eyes and simply blinked to let them fall. She couldn't think about her daughters without crying. She couldn't look at them without feeling personally responsible for no doubt destroying their lives. At some point over the last few days Stephanie had come to terms with the fact that she had hurt her husband so badly he physically couldn't be around her or their children. It spoke volumes considering their family was the only thing that mattered to him.
Aurora had constantly asked of her father's whereabouts all weekend, so too had Murphy although she was easier distracted than her older sister. Stephanie had made a concerted effort to please them at every turn to stop them asking questions and stop her from having a breakdown at any moment.
When she checked the joint account they used for everyday things she saw that he had filled the car with gas and spent around $10 at a deli store. Despite their current predicament it still made her smile that he stayed within their routine. Obviously he used his own card for what she presumed to be a hotel and whatever else he needed. Maybe she should start calling up hotels in the area to see where he was. She could say she was his wife; it wasn't like she was lying. But his absence made it abundantly clear that he didn't want to see her. Would he ever want to see her? Surely this couldn't go on forever. Sooner or later he'd have to make an appearance in front of their children. He couldn't just vanish into thin air.
"God…" she sighed to herself and stretched her legs. For the fourth night in a row she had sat in the living room for him to return. It was now after one.
He wasn't coming.
Her defeated steps echoed up the stairs. She checked on her daughters, all of them dead to the world and blissfully unaware of their parent's situation. Deep down Stephanie had a vile feeling, right in the pit of her stomach, that this; her home, her life, her marriage, was all coming to an end. But she refused to acknowledge it or even think about it. It hurt too much. It literally made her chest grow so tight she couldn't breathe.
A few moments later Stephanie realized where she was. Standing at the foot of the bed she had shared with her husband for over 10 years, a solitary tear trickled down her cheek. Paul was everywhere in this room. They were everywhere in this room. From their wedding picture on the nightstand to her husband's array of silk ties hanging messily over the arm of the wingback chair next to his closet. Everything in this room resembled a moment in their life whether big or small.
By the time the lone tear had melted against her lip it had been joined by several others. Stephanie gripped the hem of her oversized jumper and squeezed as the tears began to fall once more.
What on earth had she done?
Paul wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He'd consumed more alcohol in the last few days than he had in his whole damn life. It tasted like shit, he felt like shit, probably looked like it too. He blinked hard several times, trying to clear his eyes. Fuck, how was he going to do this? How was he going to turn up at TV and act like everything was OK? He had been able to hide in his office for two days and then disappear for the weekend but he couldn't do that here. People needed him here. Vince needed him here. Stephanie…
That all too familiar grip in his chest grew tight at the mere thought of his wife. He'd had a few days to digest her act of adultery. It hadn't got any easier. He was still mad as hell, he was still furious with her, he still wanted to break everything around him and he was still completely and utterly heartbroken. That's why he left. He could barely function on Thursday. He hadn't slept the whole night before. Instead he lay there staring at the ceiling with the image of Orton fucking his wife burned into his brain.
How did it happen?
Where did it happen?
How many times?
Did she enjoy it?
Did Orton pleasure her more than he did?
Did they laugh at him as they screwed each other behind his back?
Did she stare into Orton's eyes and chew on her lip with that look of pure ecstasy on her face the way she did with him?
Did she want to do it again?
Did she love him?
It drove him completely insane. He couldn't stop thinking about it, picturing them together. It was so vivid he could hear their breaths and feel the heat rising between them. All the while he got angrier and angrier until he couldn't take it anymore and he jumped out of bed. He stormed out of his room and to the concierge of the hotel, asking for a driver or a cab to take him somewhere he could get wasted. At 2am no questions were asked. Several drinks later the anger hadn't dissipated. He wanted to fight. He needed to fight, to lash out and hurt somebody as much as he was hurting. The result left him with a black eye and sympathetic stares from the regulars in the dive bar who didn't have the heart to beat a drunken fool into a stupor.
Then it was Thursday. He went to the office, stayed locked there all day.
Then it was Friday.
Repeat.
On Saturday he drank so much he didn't even make it out of bed. On Saturday night he was so sick he didn't make it past the bathroom floor. On Sunday he sobered up and the gravity of the situation started to sink in. When the first tear fell he tried to fight it off but soon he was sobbing, for the hurt in his heart and stabbing pain in his chest, for his daughters who he missed beyond reason, for his wife because despite what she had done he still fucking loved her and he hated her because of it. And he cried for himself because he was a fucking mess.
Today was Monday.
Today was Monday and somehow he had to pull his shit together and face his colleagues and peers. He had to face the world and act like his life wasn't falling to pieces. He still didn't know what he planned to do when he saw Orton. It would take everything he had not to beat the shit out of the bastard on sight. But it would raise questions. Questions he wasn't prepared to deal with right now. How could he tell people what was wrong when he still couldn't fully understand it himself?
The loud buzzing of his phone brought him out of his daze. Paul glanced at the screen and absently held his breath. It was Vince.
"Your assistant got in touch about your last minute meeting. Steph and I will take the jet and you can follow us after. Come see me when you arrive. I need to go over a few things."
Paul read the message and slowly released the breath he had been holding. Clearly he had mentioned something to his assistant for she had arranged this later flight for him. He hoped he remembered to thank her even thought he could barely remember a thing that had happened over these past few days. He let out a sigh and ran his finger gently over the still tender skin around his right eye. That was another question he wasn't prepared to answer.
But the biggest one of all was Stephanie. He didn't know where to begin with her. Once again the stabbing pain returned to his chest. He didn't know what to do. The only thing that was certain was that they had to talk. He missed his kids and he wasn't going to let his wife's selfish actions separate them from him. They were the only thing that made him feel remotely happy. As he stared at the family picture he kept stored in his wallet Paul knew, deep down, that everything was going to change.