100 Days with My Ex-husband

Chapter 4: Her Nightmare

"Nora, there's something else you need to know," Emily said gently, her voice breaking the tension in the room. She hesitated, as if weighing how much more to burden me with.

I looked up at her, my eyes wide with confusion. "What do you mean?" I asked, still clutching the letter to my chest, as if the words would somehow protect me from whatever new revelation she was about to drop.

Emily took a deep breath and slowly sat down beside me. Her gaze softened as she met my eyes.

"I... I didn’t want to tell you this until you were ready, but I think you should know now, before you make any decisions. Your mother... she passed away yesterday, Nora."

The words hit me like a slap to the face. My heart stopped beating for a moment, the room spinning around me. I tried to hold on to the edge of the bed, but my hands trembled uncontrollably, as if my body couldn't quite comprehend what Emily had just said. I felt a sharp pain in my chest, and before I could process anything else, the tears came.

My breath caught in my throat as the weight of everything—the anger, the betrayal, the emptiness—crushed me. She was gone. My mother, the woman who had abandoned me all those years ago, had finally left this world, and I was too late. I hadn’t even had the chance to forgive her.

I screamed, a raw, guttural sound that echoed in the room. I felt like I was being torn apart from the inside. My heart ached for the woman I could never fully understand, and yet, despite everything, I felt a desperate need to go to her. But it was too late. She was already gone.

Emily’s arms wrapped around me tightly, pulling me into a fierce embrace as I collapsed into her.

"Nora, I’m so sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"I know this is too much. I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Please, just breathe. You don’t have to face this alone."

I nodded, the tears flowing freely, my body shaking with grief. "I wanted to hate her," I sobbed, my voice barely audible through the tears.

"I wanted to hold on to the anger, to stay mad at her for everything she put me through. But now she’s gone, and I don’t know what to feel anymore."

Emily held me even tighter, her voice firm yet gentle. "You don’t have to figure it out right now. It’s okay to feel lost, Nora. It’s okay to feel whatever you need to feel. But don’t let this grief consume you. Don’t let it be the only thing you remember about your mother."

I pulled back slightly, wiping my face with the back of my hand, trying to regain control of my emotions. "I don’t know if I can forgive her. I don’t know if I ever will. But I—"

Before I could finish, Emily placed a hand on my shoulder, cutting me off. "You don’t have to forgive her right now, and maybe not ever. But you can find peace, Nora. That’s what matters now.”

I took a shaky breath, looking down at the letter in my hand again.

"I’ll never get the chance to make things right with her," I whispered, my heart heavy with regret. "I wanted to fix things so badly, Emily."

Emily’s eyes softened, and she gave me a small, sad smile. "It’s not about fixing everything. It’s about finding a way to move forward, even if it’s painful."

I nodded, still in disbelief, but something about Emily’s words began to sink in.

For a moment, I felt a flicker of hope—hope that I could eventually find peace. But for now, I just needed to sit with this pain, to let myself feel it, and to lean on Emily, who had been my rock through it all.

Days passed, and the sharp pain in my head began to fade, replaced by a dull, constant ache that reminded me I was still far from okay. The hospital room was no longer the place where I felt safe, but it had become the place where I had broken down, where the reality of my pain, both physical and emotional, had come crashing down on me. I can’t stay here forever.

The morning the doctor said I could be discharged; I felt a strange mix of relief and apprehension.

Emily arrived early to take me home. She had been there every step of the way, a constant presence through all the confusion, the tears, and the overwhelming pain.

As she helped me gather my things and we walked toward the door, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of vulnerability. I wasn’t sure what the next steps were, but I was glad she was by my side.

Once we got in the car, I sank into the seat, leaning my head back, trying to take a deep breath. Emily started the engine, and as we drove away from the hospital, her gaze remained on the road ahead, though I could tell she was thinking, processing. After a few moments of silence, she spoke.

"Nora," she began, her voice steady but probing. "Are you really, truly done with Cross?"

The question caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to answer. I didn’t want to talk about him, but Emily’s question felt like something I had to face, even if I wasn’t ready. The car hummed softly as I gathered my thoughts.

I turned toward her, my eyes hollow with the weight of the past few weeks. "Yes, Emily," I said, my voice unwavering. "I’m done with him. It’s over. I signed the divorce papers."

The words felt heavy, like a final seal on something I’d tried to ignore for so long. Emily glanced at me, her brow furrowed with concern.

"You’re sure?" she asked, her voice firm yet gentle.

I nodded, my hands trembling slightly as I clasped them in my lap. "I promised myself I would never let him back in my life after everything he’s done." I swallowed hard, the tears threatening to resurface.

"He ruined me, Emily. He made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Like I was nothing."

Emily’s expression hardened with anger as she gripped the steering wheel. "He doesn’t deserve a single tear from you, Nora. He doesn’t deserve any part of you anymore. You’ve been through hell." Her words were like a balm to my aching soul.

She was right. Cross had taken everything—my trust, my happiness, my dream—and left me in pieces.

The car ride continued in silence, but this time, the weight of the past few days didn’t feel so heavy. Emily’s words, though tough and blunt, were exactly what I needed to hear. She was right: I couldn’t keep holding on to the shattered pieces of a marriage that had only caused me pain.

When we finally arrived at Emily's house, the familiar warmth of her home wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, but I felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to rebuild myself.

Emily parked the car and turned off the engine. She looked over at me with a soft smile.

"Come on, Nora," she said, her voice full of warmth. "Let’s get you inside. You need to rest.”

I nodded, my mind still reeling, but at that moment, I knew I wasn’t alone.

Later that day, Emily and I sat together in the quiet of her house, neither of us saying much.

She had to leave for her work trip, but before she left, she looked at me one last time and said, "You’re strong, Nora. You’ve been through so much, but you’ll get through this too. I’m just a phone call away. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself while I’m not here."

"I can handle myself, Em. Thank you for everything,” I thanked her.

Later that night, the house felt colder somehow, emptier without Emily’s presence. The silence was suffocating, pressing in from every corner. I walked aimlessly through the house, feeling like I was trapped in some kind of nightmare I couldn’t escape.

I ended up in the kitchen, my hands shaking as I stared at the wine bottle Emily had left on the counter. My mind felt heavy, the weight of the world pressing down on me. My mother was gone. Cross had ruined our marriage.

I grabbed the bottle and twisted the cork out, the sound too loud in the stillness of the room. I poured the dark liquid into a shot glass, watching it swirl before I brought it to my lips. The burn as it slid down my throat was almost a relief, the warmth spreading through my chest like a temporary shield against the pain. I took another shot, and then another, each one numbing me just a little bit more.

I wanted to drown it all out. I wanted to forget the betrayal, forget the hurt, forget the loneliness. For a few fleeting seconds, I hoped that the alcohol would take me somewhere far away from this hell I was living in. But it didn’t. It didn’t make it go away.

I screamed, the pain of everything crashing over me, the anger and the heartbreak too much to bear. I cried out, my voice raw, my throat tight with the weight of it all.

“F*ck this life!”

I was shaking, sobbing uncontrollably now, the bitterness and the grief mixing in a flood of emotions I couldn’t control. The alcohol had only made it worse, stripping away whatever little strength I had left. I could feel my heart breaking all over again, and I didn’t know how much more I could take.

Then, just as I thought I might drown in the overwhelming ache of it all, a voice spoke softly behind me.

"Here."

I turned, startled, to see a figure standing there.