Haunted By Her
941 Words
Adam's P.O.V.
I walked around my home… silent. I was already used to the quiet, but that didn’t make it any easier. It had become a ritual, turning on the TV and letting it play in the background even though I wasn’t watching it. Just noise. Anything to fight the silence that echoed too loudly inside these walls.
I lit a cigarette and took a slow drag, savouring the aftertaste in my throat. Elara wasn’t down here to police me about smoking.
But my mind wasn’t in the living room. It was back in that office. With Addison.
Her voice played on a loop in my head. It hadn’t changed, still soft, still familiar, but the tone was different. Too calm. Too fake. Like she’d practised everything she planned to say before stepping in. And that smile she gave me? It wasn’t real. It was the kind you give to a stranger, polite but detached. A far cry from the girl who used to light up just because I walked into the room.
What the hell was I expecting?
I ran a hand through my hair and started pacing. My frustration was building up. It had taken every bit of restraint I had not to show any emotion when she walked in, looking so put together, so composed, like the past meant nothing. Like I meant nothing.
And she looked happy... contented.
That part hurt more than I wanted to admit.
Because I wasn’t.
I took another puff, blowing smoke into the empty room. My marriage had been hollow for so long, I no longer knew where the lies ended and the truth began. Elara and I existed together in a world of appearances. She barely looked at me anymore, unless it was to accuse or correct. Unless she needed something for her social circle or a trophy husband to parade around.
I dropped onto the couch and stared at the ceiling, the cigarette burning between my fingers. Addison’s laugh echoed in my head. When she tried to hold back a laugh, her nose would always wrinkle. The softness of her hair against my shoulder on late-night drives home from the office. She spoke without holding anything back, making my minutes and hours lively. The way she looked at me, like I was her world, and she will jump if I tell her without any question.
All of it came rushing back.
God, I missed that.
I stood up, pacing. I couldn’t sit still.
I had a wife upstairs. A marriage on paper. A life others envied.
And the worst part? I hated it. Any man could have it. It meant nothing to me.
I headed to the bar cabinet, grabbing the whisky bottle. I filled a glass. I had long stopped caring about how much I drank. The drink burnt, but I just wanted to feel numb.
I still felt the ache. The pull. Words I never spoke. The desire I never chased.
Just as I was pouring a second, I heard the sharp click of heels descending the stairs.
"Elara," I muttered.
She wore one of her designer gowns, perfectly styled as always. Probably off to see Clarissa or someone else from her polished world.
"You’re drinking again. And smoking," she said flatly, her tone laced with disgust.
"I didn’t realise I needed your permission," I replied, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice.
She scoffed. "And you wonder why I can’t stand to be around you. You reek of failure and regret."
"Don’t start, Elara. Not tonight."
"Why not tonight, Adam?" She stepped closer and tossed her handbag on the couch, tone challenging. "Why not tonight when your little meltdown is so obvious?"
"Just f**k off like you always do."
Her expression faltered just for a second before she grinned. "Does your little tantrum have to do with your little slut?"
"Don’t call her that!" I yelled, throwing the whisky bottle across the room. It shattered just a few feet from her heels.
She didn't even flinch. "Did she stir up old memories? Making you regret your past decisions."
"Just shut the hell up, Elara. Why can’t you ever just stop? Do you always have to prove a point?"
"Oh, please," she sneered. "What are you going to do if I don’t? Throw another bottle? Cry?"
She waited for a reaction, then added, "I saw your face after that meeting today. You didn’t even try to hide it. That pathetic, longing look. She walks into your life after all these years, and suddenly you are a lovesick teenager again?"
My jaw clenched.
"She is not your business." I snapped.
Elara laughed bitterly. "She is very much my business if she’s the reason what we have built is crashing."
"We? What we have built?" I laughed, a humourless sound. "What did we build? An empire? With sand and illusions. It was always going to fall apart. No one would envy it if they knew what it really was."
She scoffed and grabbed her handbag from the couch and turned towards the door.
"You’re weak, Adam. Always chasing ghosts. Do you think she will save you? That she’ll fix you? You missed your chance with her. And now you’re stuck with me because I’m the only one who knows how to manage your mess."
She paused in the doorway, her eyes cold. "I am going out. Try not to embarrass yourself while I’m gone."
Then she was gone.
I stood in the silence she left behind, breathing heavily, the scent of smoke and spilt whisky hanging in the air.
And still… all I could think about was Addison.
- Writer
