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I slammed the telephone in place. Fuck. My fist itched to smash something so I turned to a wall. I smashed my fist into it with a loud grunt.
“Fucking bastard!” My fist met the wall again. My knuckles cracked but that wasn't enough.
I smashed again and again until my breathing was heavy. How could I have been so careless?
Why was every fucking thing falling apart?
Why did James have to visit?
I was fucking ruining everything… everything.
My legs suddenly felt weak. I staggered to the chair.
I ruined everything for James… his relationship with his daughter, our friendship, and now I was on the verge of ruining things for his daughter.
My breathing steadied at the thought of Evie.
I just… she didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to be dragged into this mess.
Although the issue with the media had been resolved— they’d taken down the picture along with the stupid narrative on all platforms where it was released— it obviously wasn't over.
Releasing the pictures would be a fatal blow to her career, and I didn't want to imagine what would happen if it reached that stage.
I didn’t want to imagine how broken she’d be if she found out about the threat.
Maybe it was wrong; keeping it from her was probably best…for now.
Leaning against my chair, I ran a hand down my face before I fisted my hair.
My heart plummeted into the depths of despair.
That night, I didn't say a word to Evie as I carried Sophie to her room.
There was nothing left to say. I realized the damage I caused. It possibly extended to Sophie.
After trying fruitlessly to find out if she witnessed the whole fight by asking her questions, I’d put Sophie to sleep. Then I went to my room to clean myself up.
Images of his hurt and broken face kept replaying in my head. It tormented me. I knew it would happen, yet I crossed the line again.
The only way to stop the thoughts was to drink, and so I did.
I drank until I didn’t feel anything. Not even the urge to check on Evie.
I let the alcohol lead me into oblivion.
I can't believe you took advantage of my situation.
Did you ever see me as your equal? Or just some poverty-stricken bastard you could take advantage of…
Did he really think that of himself? Did he really feel inferior all this while?
I was guilty of a lot of things. A lot. And one by one, they were slowly backfiring.
I just hoped the consequence would skip Sophie.
I didn’t know if the fight had any impact on her progress. I hoped not.
It was probably selfish to say, but a part of me was thankful Evie didn’t go with her father that night.
