A Photo And A Broken Heart
923 Words
The following morning, Isabelle woke up feeling empty.
Her eyes were soaked from tears. Her head banged. But worst of everything was the ache in her chest, like something had been taken out and it left bleeding.
She had seen them. Lucien and the woman.
She had no ideas who the woman was, but she appeared beautiful, bold and familiar to him.
Isabelle had turned around before she saw more, but the image left her some unpleasant memories.
She hadn’t thought and waited for love from Lucien, but she had begun to believe that probably he was working it out. Maybe they could become something more serious than just a cheap and selfish contract.
Right now, it all felt like a lie, untrue promises.
Lucien sat in his office, looking at his phone.
Isabelle didn't respond to his messages.
He had noticed her presence last night, like a shadow that walked through his thoughts, but he hadn’t sighted her.
Was she hiding from him again? He exhaled and leaned back.
Just then, his phone came up with a new message from an unnamed number.
He opened it. And he was shocked.
Inside was a picture, taken through the glass wall in his office.
It showed Clarisse, arms around him, her lips near his ear, her body all over him.
The message read:
“This is what your dear husband was doing last night. He hasn’t changed. Men never do.”
Lucien stood up immediately. “Damn it!”
He did know who sent it. Clarisse, she sent it.
And the worse of it, Isabelle had probably received it too.
Truely, far away, Isabelle was already looking at the same picture.
It was sent to her anonymously. No name. Just that message.
Her heart was broken, tore apart painfully.
So it hadn’t just been an error. Someone wanted her to see it. Someone wanted to hurt her feelings.
She left her phone aside and covered her face.
“Why?” she asked herself.
Just then, a knock came at her house door.
She wiped her tears immediately and attended to the door to find Estelle, her bossom friend and only real support and confidant in the city, standing there with two cups of coffee with a questionable look. “Morning. You look unhappy,” Estelle said calmly.
“I feel terrible,” Isabelle spoke quietly, moving aside.
Estelle came in, gave her a cup, and sat on the couch. “Alright, tell me everything.”
Isabelle broke down. The designed marriage. The contract. The event at the mansion the other night. The watm kiss. The distance. The woman.
Estelle listened carefully and quietly, her eyes were serious and thoughtful. “That photo,” “ that was sent to you purposefully. Someone wants to ruin whatever two of you have together.”. “I don’t know what we were building,” Isabelle said. “Maybe nothing.”
“You still do love him, don’t you?” Isabelle didn't say a word.
Estelle held her hand. “If truely you love him, don’t be disturbed because of a photo. Confront him. Ask for the truth. If he tell lies, then you can walk away. But if he’s telling the truth… stay, don't walk away yet.”
Meanwhile, Lucien got into Clarisse’s hotel suite without knocking at the door.
She wore a soft fine dress, drinking wine before noon. “Well, that was quick,” she smiled selfishly.
He threw his phone on the bed. “You forwarded this to Isabelle.”
Clarisse didn’t say no. “Of course I did send it. She deserves to know who she married.”
Lucien’s voice got hard. “You’re trying to destroy something that has nothing to do with you.” “She’s a stranger. I’m the one who have known you,” Clarisse said, standing up slowly. “You didn’t love her. You still do not.”
“You don’t get to decide about that.”
“I’m not the foe, Lucien,” she spoke. “She’s just… temporary.”
Lucien’s countenance changed. “No. You are in the past. And you’re no longer welcome in my space.”
He turned and walked away without waiting for her to respond.
Later that night, Lucien was standing in front of Isabelle’s door with a troubled heart.
He knocked once. No reply. He knocked again. “Isabelle, it’s me.” Still no response.
He exhaled and brought out his phone. “I know what you saw. And I know what someone had sent to you. But please, trust me when I say it. It's not what you think, I didn’t kiss her. I didn’t hold her. She surprised me. I didn’t want her here. I told her to leave. Isabelle, if you’re hearing me, I need you to believe… I’m not that type of man anymore.”
“I’m not asking you to love me. Just to believe me.”
He turned and left.
Inside, Isabelle stood with her hand hung on the door.
She had listened to every bit of his word. And part of her wanted to believe him. But her heart… was still very shattered.
Clarisse picked up her phone and called a line.
A voice responded. “Did she receive it picture?”
“Yes,” Clarisse said. “And it worked out.”
The man on call laughed . “Perfect. Next step?”
Clarisse got serious. “Let’s do our best in making their contract ends. Just the same way it started.”
- Writer
