had come between them and it had happened almost overnight. She thought at first it was her, but then, as the days went on, he seemed miles away, quiet and aloof.
She asked him a few times if he was okay, but he snapped back at her, telling her to stop fussing. She told herself it would blow over and their relationship – perfect in her eyes – would get back to normal. Romantic meals for two, bubble baths together, and a shared bottle of wine in front of the open fire would all return. Yet, the days were now turning into weeks, and she felt her heart being ripped away from her.
Kara sighed and continued preparing the food. Once the chilli was simmering, she went upstairs to have a quick shower and redo her make-up; perhaps she had become a little dowdy and unattractive. The main bathroom was huge with a bath that would easily accommodate two people and a walk-in shower area much like a wet room. The full-length mirror screwed to the far end was surrounded by spotlights, so even a stray hair or a tiny spot could be seen.
Kara stepped out of her clothes, and for a second, she didn’t recognise herself. Perhaps she’d let herself go. Her clothes were certainly tighter; she would have to renew her gym membership and spruce herself up. Justin was fit and his body was rippled with muscles. Another tear fell. She took a step closer and peered at her face. Her blonde hair needed a trim or a restyle; it was just long and flat. The usual shine had disappeared, and she had to admit to herself, she didn’t look in the best shape at all. Her skin was not smooth and glowing; her face appeared pale and spiteful.
Perhaps that was it; maybe he wasn’t attracted to her like before. At only twenty-six years old, she should look fresh and vibrant. Maybe it was her secret tears and all the worry that were souring her face, or the virus bringing her down. The bed sheets had been dry for over a month now, and he hadn’t so much as touched her. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat. The shower was hot, and she had to turn it down a notch, submersing herself under the champagne-setting flow. Standing for a while, she allowed the water to tickle her back and massage her throbbing head.
She must get back to how she was before: toned, fresh, and attractive. Not that she fancied herself as anything special, but Justin did. He told her she was an even prettier version of Jennifer Aniston, and he wasn’t the only one: a few people had said she was a lookalike. He always complimented her; in fact, he treated her as if she were the only woman alive. The problem was he hadn’t lately, though.
Hearing the sound of the front door shutting loudly, her heart fluttered; he was home. She almost slipped over in the shower, trying to get out. She wanted to get dressed and apply a few layers of make-up, add her expensive perfume, and slip on her new floral print dress. He had bought it for her when they went to Harrods. She had to win him back. It was absurd that she was thinking she had lost him, but it was how she was beginning to feel, and if she dared even to think for a moment he was seeing someone else, she would feel sick. That notion was unbearable.
He didn’t call up to her with one of his captivating comments like, ‘Do you need a back scrubber?’ or ‘Do you need company in that bath?’ She shook, putting her mascara on, knowing this was the time she would demand to know what was going on. She planned the words over and over in her head. She even thought of lowering her pride by begging him to go back to the way things were, with a holiday, or perhaps spicing up their sex life.
He wasn’t in the kitchen, when she eventually wandered downstairs. He was in the snug, the smallest room where they went to read, where the bookshelves displayed an array of books from fiction to medical publications. In the corner was a desk and a computer to catch up on work at home. A three-piece suite softened the room and made it more homely than an office.
She peered in with a false smile on her face, when inside she was dying. ‘Well, hello, sexy.’ She tried to sound upbeat, but it was not reciprocated with his usual smile that lit up his face. He was staring down at his phone, and then he peered up with an expression she’d never seen before. It resembled a deep sorrow that dragged his eyes down.
She tilted her head to the side. ‘Please, Justin, tell me what’s wrong? I can’t bear this tension, this … I don’t even know what it is, but it’s hurting me. You have changed so much towards me. I mean, I hardly recognise you … Look, if I’ve done something wrong, please tell me. Put me out of this misery.’ Her eyes filled with salty tears and she let them hang there and build up, before they finally fell in streams. She made no sound but just stared, longing for him to run to her, throw his arms around her, and tell her he loved her.
He didn’t; instead, he looked away, and in a meek voice, he said, ‘I’m just tired and overworked. Please, stop fussing.’
She turned to walk away and hesitated, glancing one more time over her shoulder, to find him still staring at his phone. Her pain was tainted by so much frustration that she wanted to run back and shake him. Couldn’t he see how much it was killing her?
With a heavy heart, she dished up the chilli con carne and carried the two plates into the dining room. Her hands were shaking as she lit the candle. He joined her, sitting opposite, but really, he wasn’t himself. She watched him struggling to force the food down. Then, exasperation got the better of her. She slammed her knife and fork down on the solid oak table, making him jump. ‘Justin, I can’t take this anymore. What the hell’s going on? You won’t talk, and now you can’t even eat. This isn’t fair. Tell me now! What is wrong?’ she shrieked.
Justin pushed his plate forward, clasped his hands together, and leaned his elbows on the table. She searched his eyes for answers, all the while feeling overanxious and thwarted with pending grief. Her heart was racing and her breathing shallow, as if she were awaiting the death penalty. This wasn’t Justin, not her Justin, with the beaming white-teeth smiles and a face full of fun, spouting his jokes at every opportunity. The easy-going, sweet man who worked hard, loved hard, and cared for everyone, most of all her, seemed to be inwardly broken. She didn’t recognise his sober expression or the dull look in his otherwise vibrant ocean-coloured eyes that once danced like the waves.
‘I, er, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I can’t carry on deceiving you. Kara, I’m so sorry …’ he replied, choking on his words.
‘What, tell me what’s going on? Please, we can work things out. Nothing is ever that bad.’ Her voice was on the point of hysteria.
He shook his head and looked down in shame. ‘Oh Jesus, Kara, there’s no easy way to say it … I’m leaving you.’
The words took a few seconds to digest. She couldn’t believe he’d just said them. Now stunned, she stared, shaking her head. ‘No, no, Justin, please don’t tell me you’re leaving me! Why? Why?’ She pleaded with him for an answer.
He looked up, his face drenched in guilt. ‘Oh, Kara, you deserve the truth, but I know it will hurt you so much. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to tell you, but I can’t put it off any longer … I never meant to hurt you, I swear, and for the record, I do love you, I always have, more than anyone, but I have to end our relationship … I did something stupid …’
Kara guessed he had met someone else and couldn’t stand to hear those words, knowing it would destroy her. No one was more important in her life than Justin. He was her world, her rock, and her love. ‘Please, Justin, it doesn’t matter, don’t tell me. We can work it out. I’ll forgive you. Just don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me.’ Her mouth felt like it was chewing a hundred cotton-wool balls and her legs were like mushy peas.
Justin’s bottom lip quivered, and then he placed his face in his hands. Kara was by his side with her arms around him. ‘It’s okay, we’ll be fine, we can work this out, I’ll forgive you. Just don’t say any more. We can put whatever it is behind us … Come on, don’t get upset. It’s
