You have nowhere to go
1174 Words
Otthen opened his mouth, grasping for anything that might sway her, but he could see the finality in her eyes, the decision that had already been made.
She moved past him with steady footsteps.
Otthen’s voice rang out like a whip c***k through the empty hallway, his anger sharp and burning. “Cambrik! Where do you think you’re going?”
Cambrik froze mid-step, her fingers still clenched around the strap of her purse, her heart slamming against her ribs. She barely turned to look back, keeping her chin high, her body tense as she answered, “Anywhere but here, Otthen.”
The words had barely left her mouth when he crossed the space between them in a few angry strides, his hand wrapping around her wrist. With a sharp tug, he pulled her back toward him, his grip bruising, his eyes blazing with fury. “Don’t forget,” he spat, his voice low, dangerous, “you have nowhere to go.”
Cambrik’s breath caught, the force of his words crashing over her like a cold wave. His words struck something deep, cutting through her bravado, reminding her of the truth she’d tried so hard to ignore.
She had no family close by, no job, no savings of her own. She had devoted herself fully to this life with him, a life she’d trusted he would protect and honor. And now, here she was—his words a harsh reminder of how helpless she truly was.
Otthen’s grip tightened slightly, his lips curling into a bitter, triumphant smirk as he took in her silence. “See?” he said, his voice taunting, mocking. “You have nothing without me, Cambrik. No one to turn to. This house, this life—I gave it to you. So don’t pretend you’re walking out of here like you have some power over me.”
She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping as the weight of her reality settled onto her shoulders. He was right. She was utterly alone.
The thought cut her, leaving her feeling small, stripped of the strength and dignity she’d clung to moments before. She was a woman with no safety net, no lifeline to hold on to beyond these walls.
Otthen’s hand loosened slightly, though he continued to hold her close, his voice dropping as he said, “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Right now, I need to sleep.” He let out a bitter laugh, swaying slightly from the lingering effects of alcohol. “I’m tired of this drama, Cambrik.”
He released her then, taking a step back as if dismissing her, his expression clouded with exhaustion and irritation. “We’ll sort this out in the morning,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.
He turned his back on her, already moving toward the stairs, leaving her standing there, alone in the quiet darkness.
Cambrik watched him go, her chest tightening with a mixture of anger, humiliation, and an overwhelming sense of despair.
She felt as if the ground had crumbled under her feet, leaving her suspended in a void of uncertainty, stripped of everything she had thought she could count on. Her hand went to her throat, fighting back the wave of panic rising within her.
But then, as she stood there, staring at the stairs where Otthen had disappeared, something shifted inside her.
She thought of all the nights she’d waited for him, all the moments she’d sacrificed pieces of herself to fit into the life he’d wanted. And now he was telling her she had no power, no worth beyond what he’d given her?
A quiet, simmering anger sparked within her, fueling a small, fierce resolve. She might have nothing, but she was not anything.
With trembling hands, she gathered herself, inhaling deeply to steady her nerves. She would not wait for his convenience, for him to decide her worth, her future.
At that moment.
Cambrik’s phone buzzed, vibrating insistently in her hand. She froze, her heart pounding as she glanced down at the screen.
An unknown number. She hesitated, a prickle of dread crawling up her spine, but curiosity—or perhaps some dark instinct for self-preservation—compelled her to open the messages.
As the photos loaded, her stomach twisted. One after another, the images appeared on her screen. Otthen and Cynthia together in dimly lit VIP clubs, their faces close, their bodies leaning toward each other with an intimacy that left no doubt.
There were photos from different nights, different venues, the timestamps going back over the past few months. Cambrik’s hands shook as she swiped through the images, the damning evidence a cruel confirmation of everything she’d feared.
Otthen hadn’t been just reckless tonight; he’d been deceitful for months. All those late-night meetings he’d brushed off as “business,” the nights he’d returned home with vague apologies, his excuses that had grown thinner and more hollow each time—every single one had been a lie.
He had kept this hidden, letting her play the devoted wife while he rekindled a romance with a woman who had already haunted her marriage for years. He hadn’t just hurt her; he had erased her trust, her faith in their love, and made a mockery of the life they’d built together.
Her phone buzzed again, another message from the unknown sender.
"You deserve to know the truth. Cynthia Dupp has been with Otthen for months. I thought you should finally see it for yourself."
No name. No explanation. Just the cold, blunt reality.
Cambrik’s hand clenched, her nails digging into her palm as she fought the impulse to throw the phone across the room.
It felt like her heart was breaking all over again, It was the last piece of proof she needed, a confirmation that Otthen’s betrayal was deliberate, premeditated, ongoing. He hadn’t just slipped up tonight; he’d chosen to deceive her, over and over again, with no regard for the vows they had made.
She squared her shoulders, feeling the weight of her decision settle over her with a clarity that felt almost calming.
Cambrik wouldn’t cry over him anymore. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of her pain. The evidence was right in front of her, and with it came a sense of liberation she hadn’t anticipated.
She stood up, straightening herself with a steadiness that belied the storm inside her, and walked over to the closet. She grabbed a suitcase, her movements swift and purposeful, as she began packing her things. Began to pack the things that Ruth has already prepared for her. Some pare of fresh decent clothes.
Every item she folded and placed into the suitcase was one step further away from Otthen, from the lies, from the cage he had so carefully constructed around her.
As she finished packing, she glanced at the photos one last time, the proof of his betrayal burned into her memory.
And instead of feeling anger or sadness, she walked over the frame, kicking with her leg and saying goodbye to that so-called marriage.
- Writer
