"I hope you're fucking joking."
My voice sounds hollow and cold, like it's coming from someone else. My lips are dry, and my knees feel weak when he closes his eyes. His mouth is set in a firm line as I stare at his strong jaw, the dark curls that fall into his collar. The curls I'd run my hands through only last night when we'd made love-
"I'm so sorry."
Tears spill from my eyes, and I realize my hands are shaking.
"Who? Or is it a collection?" I snap, suddenly wanting to slap his face so hard I can't breathe. He looks at me in surprise, almost as though I've insulted him with my comment.
"It's just a girl-"
"A girl? Or a woman?"
He winces then as he holds his head in his hands. "Roo-"
"Don't you dare call me that," I hiss, wanting to get up but not trusting my legs to hold me up. I have so many questions, but right now I just feel violently sick.
"She's sold her story to the media," he whispers glumly, and I shake my head in astonishment.
"Classy girl then? I see some things never change."
"It's because I tried to end it-" he begins, as I suddenly slap his face, hard. I know it won't have hurt him but it makes me feel a damn sight better.
"I want you to leave. Right now," I say, as he looks at me, shaking his head as he reaches for me.
"No, please let me explain-"
"Roman. I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear you. I want you to leave, now."
I'm shaking, my stomach twisting as he stands, his head bowed.
"But I love you," he whispers, almost to himself.
I’m crying now so hard I can't look at him, and when he tries to hold me I lash out, pushing him and punching him repeatedly as he finally controls my arms, his eyes blazing with emotion.
"I'll go, just stop. Just, stop."
I push him away, falling to the floor as I begin to sob, hearing him pick up his keys. He stops, standing at the door as I shake my head, wanting him gone. If he stays any longer I fear I’ll kill him.
My husband, the adulterer.
The father of my child.
The love of my life.
I pick myself up when I hear the door close, moments later his car engine starts as I dash to the bathroom, my stomach emptying into the toilet bowl as I lose control.
I feel like I can't breathe, but I know that it's going to get worse. I splash cold water on my face as I try to regain some kind of grip on reality, failing massively when I catch sight of my reflection.
My skin isn’t as youthful as it was when we met, my body isn’t as tight as it was then either. Years of happiness had led to me eating whatever I wanted, my curves slowly growing until I became pregnant with Poppy.
My heart shatters like glass when I realise this isn’t just me he had cheated on.
It was her.
My sweet, innocent, beautiful girl.
I drag myself up, taking a deep breath as I walk back to the foyer, staring around me blankly.
The size of the house meant nothing to me; it never had. Despite Roman being a highly successful NFL player, I had followed my dream and begun teaching. I'd left to bring Poppy up, but we had been talking of perhaps having another baby…
How could he have those sorts of conversations when he was having an affair?
I climb the stairs numbly, my eyes falling to the bedroom at the end of the hallway.
It’s dark, but I can see the outline of the marital bed we share. Nausea sweeps over me as I turn away, heading for one of the guest rooms.
I can’t face being in that room.
I fall into bed, wearing the clothes I've had on all day as I cry into the pillow.
The pain is soul destroying- every image I have of Roman has him with another woman. I cry so much I’m sure there’s nothing left- but the tears keep coming. I stare at the wall, then the ceiling, as I try to sleep.
It was pointless, I can’t.
My life as I knew it has been ripped out from beneath me, my husband is a liar. A cheating...liar.
My heart aches, and I struggle to breathe, memories of us when we were happy plague my mind.
Sure, we argue, but doesn’t every couple?
Poppy adores her Daddy, and he’s amazing with her. He doesn’t spend as much time with her now, because he’s so busy-
Oh, my God.
Doing what, exactly?
I'd trusted him so much that I hadn't clicked.
The reason he doesn’t spend as much time with Poppy was because he’s been having a fucking affair.
I need answers, but I know with a sinking feeling that I’m going to find out without hearing from Roman himself. I can’t even think of Roman without feeling sick, and I dread Poppy asking where he is in the morning. I’ll have to lie, there is nothing else for it. I’ll tell her he’s training.
Anything other than the truth.
Daddy didn't see you because he was with another woman. A woman that's not Mommy.
White hot anger slices through my body as fresh tears spill down my cheeks, my head shaking as I moan into the already sodden pillow.
Eventually I must've fallen asleep, to dreams of watching Roman with some young hot thing that I just couldn't compete with. I fell to sleep crying, and woke up crying.
What an existence.