His confession
1794 Words
Cambrik's footsteps echoed down the hall of Edenhill Hotel. Each step took her farther from the betrayal she'd just seen.
She moved with a forced composure, her spine straight and her chin high, but inside, a storm raged, a tempest of grief, fury, and disbelief crashing against the walls she had built around her heart.
Outside, rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the chaos within her, the furious storm swallowing up the city in darkness.
Once she was clear of the hotel, Cambrik staggered, feeling the weight of it all slam into her.
She reached out, gripping the cold iron railing by the steps, letting the rain soak her, blending with the silent tears streaming down her face.
Her mind replayed the scene over and over, a merciless loop of Otthen and Cynthia together, the image burned into her memory.
The man she’d shared three years with, a life with, someone she’d trusted implicitly… it was as if he’d torn her heart from her chest and crushed it underfoot.
A fierce gust of wind cut through her, snapping her out of her daze. She took a deep, shuddering breath, a hint of anger flaring within her, fueling her, giving her something to hold onto. She was done waiting. She was done giving Otthen the power to hurt her.
She turned on her heel, hailing a cab with a wave of her hand. As she sank into the back seat, the warmth of the cab enveloped her, a contrast to the chill that had seeped into her bones.
She came here with her own car. But the situation she just witnessed made her unable to drive by her own. Surely, she would make an accident and could kill herself.
Why shall she kill herself for the man who betrayed her? No… she is not that stupid. She has endured enough hardship for the last three years. Now no more.
There is a say that when water goes over the nose in a big river, you are unable to breathe. Then you have to take your own action to survive.
Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone, staring at her own reflection in the darkened screen.
She looked hollowed, haunted, a ghost of the woman she had once been. But beneath the pain, something new was taking root.
The cab pulled up to Neor Mansion, and Cambrik stepped out, holding herself tall as she made her way up the steps.
The mansion’s grand doors loomed ahead, and she felt a flash of resentment, an ache for the life she’d built in this home, the dreams she’d filled it with—dreams that now felt like ashes slipping through her fingers.
Inside, she took in the silence, the empty, sprawling space that suddenly felt cold and uninviting. She paused in the hallway, her gaze drifting over the pictures lining the walls—photos from their wedding day moments that now felt tainted, corrupted by his betrayal.
With a swift, trembling hand, she took one of the frames off the wall, staring at the image of Otthen, his smile, his arm wrapped around her. In one swift movement, she smashed it down onto the floor, the glass shattering across the polished wood.
She watched the shards scatter, a million tiny reflections of her pain. The breaking of the frame felt like a release, like she was letting go of everything that had chained her to him.
She took another frame, then another, until fragments of their life together lay scattered across the hallway floor.
A voice cut through her haze, startling her. “Mrs. Neor?”
She turned, her gaze meeting that of Ruth, their long-time housekeeper, who stood in the doorway, her face etched with worry.
Ruth had seen it all, the quiet moments, the silent tears, the whispers of loneliness that had haunted Cambrik in recent months. But this was different—this was a woman who had reached her breaking point.
Cambrik took a steadying breath, her voice calm, collected, even as her heart broke anew. “Ruth, I need you help me to pack a few things for me. I will leave this mansion by morning.”
Camrbik’s body was shaking. Her heart was hurting so badly. Otherwise, she would have pack by herself. Which wife could be in a stable stage of mind after seen her husband kissing another woman?
Ruth’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded, a flash of quiet understanding passing between them.
She knew better than to question Cambrik, and the compassion in her gaze reminded Cambrik that she was not alone from where she just came right now.
Without wasting any time, Ruth moved to fulfill her request, Cambrik turned away, heading upstairs to their bedroom—the room they’d once shared, the room she had spent so many nights waiting for him to return.
She stepped inside, the familiar scent of him still lingering, clinging to the pillows, the sheets. But this time, it no longer felt like home; it felt like a prison, a reminder of everything she’d lost.
She crossed to the window, staring out at the rain-drenched landscape, her reflection barely visible in the dark glass.
She took a deep breath, letting the sadness wash over her, acknowledging it, allowing it to fill her one last time before she began to let it go.
She stood there, alone but unbroken, she felt a new strength rise within her.
Tomorrow, Otthen would return to an empty mansion, stripped of his place, his presence erased from her life. He would find nothing of the woman he’d left behind, only the cold silence of his own making.
But just then.
Otthen walked up the marble steps of Neor Mansion, rain dripping from his clothes, his face pale under the weak glow of the early morning.
His footsteps were uneven, the whiskey still thrumming in his veins, dulling his thoughts. He fumbled with the key, missing the lock twice before finally forcing the door open, stumbling inside as the cold silence of the mansion greeted him.
He blinked, barely able to focus as he moved through the darkened foyer. Something felt different. The familiar warmth he’d taken for granted was gone, replaced by an emptiness that seemed to seep into the very walls. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to shake off the remnants of alcohol clouding his senses.
As he moved down the hallway, he noticed the scattered glass on the floor, the frames lying shattered and discarded.
His gaze fell upon a picture, its broken glass glinting under the dim light. It was their wedding photo—the one Cambrik had framed herself, insisting it hang in the hallway where everyone would see it.
Now, her smiling face stared up at him from the shattered pieces, a cruel reminder of what he had destroyed.
His chest tightened, panic beginning to break through the fog of intoxication. "Cambrik?" he called, his voice rough, filled with a desperation he barely understood.
The silence pressed down on him, suffocating. He stumbled further down the hall, past each broken frame, his footsteps echoing in the empty space.
He found her in their bedroom, standing in the soft light of dawn spilling through the rain-streaked window.
She was already dressed, her back to him, her silhouette sharp against the pale glow. There was a stillness to her, a quiet strength that struck him with more force than any words could have.
He opened his mouth, but the weight of everything he’d done, everything he’d shattered, held him silent.
Finally, Cambrik turned to face him, her gaze steady, cold. Gone was the warmth, the tenderness she’d once reserved for him.
In its place was a hard resolve, a kind of strength he’d never fully understood until now. The look in her eyes pierced through him, sobering him in a way the night’s events hadn’t.
"Cambrik," he rasped, taking an unsteady step forward. “I… I can explain. I was—I was drunk, I wasn’t thinking clearly.” His words stumbled over each other, clumsy, desperate. “Please… just let me explain.”
She held up a hand, stopping him, her expression unchanging. "Explain?" she echoed, her voice as sharp as ice. “What could you possibly explain, Otthen?” She took a single step closer, her voice barely a whisper, yet it cut through him. “I saw you. With her.”
Otthen’s shoulders slumped, his breath hitching as he tried to find the words, but nothing came.
How could he explain the choices he couldn’t even understand himself? He’d gone to Cynthia seeking an escape, some kind of answer to the restless ache inside him, but he hadn’t expected to lose everything in the process.
"Cambrik…” he murmured, his voice cracking. “I made a mistake. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
Her lips tightened, a bitter smile flickering across her face. “A mistake,” she repeated, the word hanging between them. “You didn’t mean for this to happen?” Her gaze hardened, her hands trembling just slightly as she struggled to maintain her composure.
“For months, you left me alone in this house, wondering where you were, hoping you’d come home, believing you were just… busy.” She laughed bitterly, a sound filled with so much pain it left him reeling. “But you were with her. And I was the fool waiting here for you.”
Otthen took another step toward her, his hand reaching out instinctively, but she pulled back, keeping the distance between them like an iron wall. Her rejection stung, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“You needed something?” Her eyes flashed, the anger finally breaking through the cold mask she’d worn. “And you thought you could find it with her? Instead of with your own wife?”
He had no answer, no words that could bridge the chasm between them.
The truth was a dark weight inside him, pressing down and suffocating him with the realization that he had let slip the one thing he had never deserved in the first place.
She shook her head, a hint of sorrow flickering in her gaze. “You’ve already taken everything, Otthen. There’s nothing left for you to make right.” Her voice softened, the vulnerability beneath her anger shining through for a moment. “I loved you. I gave you everything I had. But at the end….”
Her words hit him like a blow, leaving him hollow, desperate, drowning in the reality of what he’d lost.
Cambrik drew in a sharp breath, her voice lowering, steady and unwavering. “I am leaving. I don’t want to see your face again.”
- Writer
