CHAPTER ONE
1038 Words
The champagne bottle felt cold in Evie's hand as she climbed the stairs to her flat, a grin already spreading across her face.
She'd caught the earlier train from Manchester, cutting her conference short because spending Christmas Eve alone in a hotel room suddenly felt unbearable when she could be home with Marcus instead.
"Home" the word still gave her a warm flutter, even after three years. Marcus had a way of making even their cramped Shore ditch flat feel like a sanctuary, somewhere she actually belonged.
She fumbled with her keys, the champagne threatening to slip from her grip. The lights were on inside.
Good....He was home, maybe they could order Thai food and watch something terrible on telly, the way they always did. Nothing fancy, just them.
The key turned and Evie pushed the door open, already calling out. "I know, I know, you weren't expecting me until tomorrow, but I thought...." The words died in her throat.
The living room was a mess, takeaway containers scattered across the coffee table. Two wine glasses, both with lipstick stains, a woman's coat draped over the chair.. not her coat.
Evie's heart began to hammer against her ribs. There had to be an explanation. Marcus had friends over.. someone from work, His sister, maybe, though his sister lived in Bristol and never visited.
She set the champagne down carefully on the side table, her hands suddenly shaking.
The flat was silent except for the sound of her own breathing and something else. Music, coming from the bedroom, their bedroom.
Her feet moved without permission, carrying her down the short hallway. The bedroom door was ajar, light spilling out.
With each step, Evie felt reality tilting sideways, felt the careful life she'd built beginning to crack down the middle like ice on a winter pond. She pushed the door open.
Marcus was in their bed, Her bed, the bed with the duvet cover she'd chosen at John Lewis, the one with little birds on it that Marcus had said was too feminine but she'd loved anyway.
He was tangled in those sheets with someone else, his face buried in blonde hair that definitely wasn't Evie's chestnut brown.
The woman turned her head, and Evie's world didn't just crack. It shattered completely.
Charlotte, her best friend, her best friend since university. The woman who'd helped her pick out this flat.
Who'd held her when her grandmother died, who knew every secret, every fear, every dream Evie had ever had.
"Oh God." Charlotte scrambled up, clutching the sheet to her chest. Her eyes were wide, but not with surprise.
With guilt, as if she'd known this moment was coming and had been dreading it.
Marcus sat up more slowly, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. He didn't look guilty, he looked annoyed, as if Evie had interrupted something important. "You're supposed to be in Manchester."
That was it, that was all he said... not sorry, not an explanation... just irritation that she'd ruined his plans by coming home early to surprise him.
Evie's throat felt tight, her chest constricting until she couldn't get enough air. "How long?"
"Evie, let me explain..." Charlotte started, but Evie held up a hand.
"How long?"
Marcus and Charlotte exchanged a glance, some wordless communication passing between them that made Evie feel even sicker. They had secrets, inside jokes, a relationship she'd known nothing about.
"Six months," Marcus said finally, and he had the audacity to sound defensive. "We didn't mean for it to happen, it just did."
Six months, half a year... while Evie had been planning their future, looking at wedding venues online she'd been too afraid to show him, wondering why he'd been so distant lately.
While she'd blamed herself for working too much, not being exciting enough, not being enough.
"In our bed," Evie heard herself say. Her voice sounded strange, distant, like it belonged to someone else. "You couldn't even go to her place?"
"Your flat's closer to my work," Charlotte said quietly, then seemed to realise how that sounded. "I'm sorry, Evie, I'm so sorry, I never wanted to hurt you."
The laugh that escaped Evie's throat was sharp enough to cut. "Then why did you? Both of you... for six months?"
"Because you're never here," Marcus snapped, swinging his legs out of bed and reaching for his jeans. "You're always working, always at some conference or meeting, Charlie actually wants to spend time with me."
Charlie... He called her Charlie, Evie was the only one who called her that... It was their thing... not anymore.
Evie backed out of the room, her vision blurring.. she needed to leave, she needed air, she needed to be anywhere but here, watching her life disintegrate in real time.
"Where are you going?" Marcus called after her... "we should talk about this, figure out the logistics."
Logistics? as if her heart being ripped out was a practical matter to be solved.
Evie grabbed her bag, her keys while the champagne still sat on the side table, mocking her with its promise of celebration. She left it there, let them drink it.
The December air hit her like a slap as she stumbled onto the street. Snow had started to fall, fat flakes that would have been beautiful if she could feel anything besides the gaping wound where her trust used to be.
Her phone buzzed, Marcus, then Charlie. Then Marcus again, messages pouring in, explanations she didn't want to hear.
Evie switched it off, threw it onto the passenger seat of her car, and drove.
She didn't know where she was going, she just knew she couldn't stay... behind her, London glittered with Christmas lights and promises of joy.
Ahead, the motorway stretched dark and endless into a future she no longer recognised.
The snow fell harder, blurring the road, swallowing the lines beneath her tyres. Evie barely noticed.
Her phone buzzed again on the passenger seat. She didn’t slow down.
The speedometer crept higher. Seventy. Eighty.
A sane part of her whispered that this was stupid, that she should pull over, breathe, call someone, anyone.
But sanity felt pointless now, the road curved sharply ahead, still Evie didn’t touch the brakes.
- Writer
