Amelia
“Amelia, we need to talk… I can explain.” Richard said from behind the closed door of my bedroom.
“Go away, Richard, I don't want to see you or talk,” I said tearily, my voice muffled by the pillow I cried into.
“It's not what you think, it's not like.”
“Oh really, then what is it then, What! There is a freaking Ultrasound scan, what in the world am I supposed to believe.”I screamed at him.
“Amelia __”
“Go away Richard, I've had it with your lies, just go away!.”
That was two days ago, since then I've barely existed. It's funny how your whole life just came down in the blink of an eye, I was a fool, a big one, I saw the signs but I refused to believe it, now look where it landed me.
The world outside was a blur of lights and noise as I stepped into the dimly lit bar. It wasn’t the kind of place I usually frequented, tonight I didn’t care. I needed an escape, a reprieve from the storm of emotions raging inside me.
Sliding onto a stool at the bar, I ordered the strongest drink they had. The bartender raised an eyebrow but obliged, sliding a tumbler of amber liquid my way.
I downed it in one gulp, the burn of the whiskey doing little to dull the ache in my chest. Richard’s betrayal played on a loop in my mind—his whispered conversations with Cindy, the scent of her perfume lingering on his clothes, the ultrasound photo with her name on it.
I signaled for another drink. then another, and another, the bartender was beginning to give me the stinking eye, but I didn't care.
I just wanted this ache to go away.
“That’s quite the pace you’re setting,” a deep voice remarked from beside me.
I glanced up to see a tall man in a tailored black suit. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and his piercing blue eyes studied me with a mix of curiosity and concern.
“What’s it to you?” I muttered, taking another sip.
“Just an observation,” he replied, sliding onto the stool next to mine. “Though, if you keep going like this, you’ll regret it in the morning.”
“I already regret a lot of things,” I said, swirling the liquid in my glass.
He signaled the bartender and ordered a drink for himself. “Fair enough. But drinking yourself into oblivion won’t fix them.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, my voice thick with sarcasm. “At least it helps me forget. Temporarily.”
He studied me for a moment before speaking. “Sometimes it’s better to face things head-on. You seem like someone who’s strong enough to do that.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t know me.”
“No,” he admitted. “But I’d like to.”
His tone was calm, reassuring, and strangely disarming.
For the first time that night, I felt the edge of my anger soften.
“I’m Amelia,” I said after a pause, not sure why I was telling him my name.
“Nicholas,” he replied, offering a small smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Amelia . Though I wish it were under better circumstances.”
“Me too.”
Or maybe not, because if it were still under better circumstances, I wouldn't be here, I wouldn't get to meet him.
We talked for what felt like hours. Or maybe it was minutes—I couldn’t tell anymore. I told him about my frustration, my doubts, my hurt, though I stopped short of mentioning Richard or Cindy by name.
He listened intently, nodding at the right moments, his gaze never wavering.
“You deserve better,” he said at one point, his voice firm but gentle. “Whatever—or whoever—is making you feel this way... you deserve more than that.”
Something about his words, the conviction behind them, struck a chord. For so long, I had felt invisible, discarded by the man who was supposed to love me. But here was a stranger, someone who didn’t know my story, reminding me of my worth.
By the time Nicholas offered to drive me home, I wasn’t entirely sober, but I wasn’t drunk enough to refuse. He somehow managed to stop me from drinking my boots off.
He helped me into his sleek black car, his hand steadying me as I stumbled slightly.
The drive was quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the silence.
“Thank you,” I said finally, my voice soft and a little bit slurred.
“For what?” he asked, glancing at me.
“For... being kind. For listening.”
He smiled faintly. “You’re welcome.”
When we reached my building, he walked me to the door, making sure I was steady on my feet.
“Take care of yourself, Amelia ,” he said, his voice laced with sincerity.
“I’ll try,” I replied, offering a weak smile before stepping inside.
The penthouse was dark and silent when I entered. The table from our anniversary dinner was still set, the melted candles and untouched food a haunting reminder of what should have been.
“Richard?” I called out, though I already knew the answer.
The emptiness of the house confirmed it. He was gone—again. Likely with her.
I sank onto the couch, my head in my hands. This wasn’t a life. This wasn’t love.
And at that moment, I made my decision.
I wouldn’t stay. I wouldn’t let Richard’s betrayal define me.
---
The next morning, my phone buzzed with a message from Richard.
We need to talk. Meet me at the office at noon. It’s about the future—with Cindy.
The words were like a slap, but they only solidified my resolve.
It was time to end this once and for all.
