The Collapse
924 Words
Chapter 3: The Collapse
The shift wasn’t immediate. But Beatrice felt it like the slow cracking of concrete beneath strain. At first, it was subtle—missed calls, delayed replies, rescheduled plans.
“Noel’s in a meeting.” “Noel’s on-site.” “He left early today.”
She told herself it was just the pressure of his new role. He had more responsibilities now: a team to manage, clients to impress.
But it wasn’t just the workload.
“Noel?” she asked one evening after he returned from another long trip. “You didn’t even tell me you’d be out of town.”
He didn’t meet her eyes. “Didn’t think I needed to report to anyone.”
The coldness in his tone stung more than she expected.
“We’re handling the Mariton Project together,” he said casually, almost defensively.
Her stomach churned every time she heard the name ‘Susane,’ Younger. Polished. Always by his side.
The distance grew like a c***k across a glass window—spreading, widening, and too painful to ignore.
Beatrice tried to reason with herself. She was not the jealous type. But something felt wrong.
Deadlines piled high. Competition for the upcoming regional leadership role grew tense. And somewhere along the line, Noel stopped texting Beatrice good morning.
He said he was “just tired.” That “everything’s moving so fast.” That they’d “take a weekend off soon.”
But soon never came.
What came instead were late-night strategy meetings with Susane. Long hours locked in the Northbridge office. And a shift in Noel that Beatrice couldn’t name—until it hit her, full in the chest.
Susane.
It began subtly.
She started finishing his sentences in meetings. Laughing a little too hard at his jokes. Pulling him aside for “urgent revisions” after everyone else had gone home.
Noel, once so tuned in to Beatrice’s moods, now barely noticed when she was quiet.
One night, Beatrice waited outside the office at 9:15 PM, arms crossed, leaning against her car.
Noel finally emerged—shirt unbuttoned at the collar, hair disheveled, phone in hand.
“Working late again?” she asked.
He startled. “Bea? What are you doing here?”
“I brought you dinner. Thought maybe we could eat together for once.”
He looked at the takeout bag in her hand. “You didn’t have to—”
“I know,” she cut in. “I wanted to. But clearly, you had company.”
He hesitated. “Susane’s under a lot of pressure. She needed help.”
“You always help her.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Noel,” she said, her voice trembling but firm, “when a woman starts needing you this much, it’s either manipulation or something more. Which is it?”
His silence answered her.
She handed him the bag. “Here’s your dinner.”
And walked away.
Two weeks later.
It was a rare Saturday off. Beatrice woke early, sunlight spilling across her kitchen counter. She brewed coffee and smiled to herself. Maybe I’ll surprise him at the office today. Bring lunch. Remind us of what we’re still fighting for.
She packed his favorite—fried chicken with fruits. Even added a note: Still here. Still believing. – B.
The construction site was nearly empty when she arrived. A few workers nodded in recognition, but Noel wasn’t there.
A sinking feeling settled in her gut as she made her way to his temporary housing unit. The door wasn’t locked.
The lights were on.
Her heart pounded.
She slowed as she approached, hearing muffled voices. Laughter.
Then—movement.
She stepped closer. Her breath caught in her throat.
The sight that greeted her stole the air from her lungs.
Noel and Susane. Half-dressed. Too close. Too intimate.
Beatrice froze in the doorway. The world blurred around her.
.
There, behind the table, Noel sat back in one of the chairs, Susane perched on his lap, arms around his neck. His hands gripped her hips. She whispered something in his ear—and he laughed.
Beatrice’s lunch bag dropped to the floor.
At first, they didn’t notice.
She stood frozen, heart in her throat. The betrayal wasn’t just in the kiss that followed—it was in how natural it all looked. Like it wasn’t a first.
Like it had been happening for a while.
“Noel?” she choked out.
He flinched. Guilt flickered across his face before his expression turned resigned.
“At least now I don’t have to explain,” he said flatly, pulling on a shirt. “I want to break up. I love Susane.”
The betrayal struck like a wrecking ball.
“You... you don’t even regret this?”
Noel scoffed. “Don’t be dramatic. You’re just clinging to me because of my position.”
Her fists clenched. “I gave that position to you!” she cried, her voice breaking.
Behind him, Susane shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe she should see a doctor... she looks like she’s about to faint.”
Noel didn’t even flinch. “Let’s go, honey. This is over.”
Beatrice stood there, her world crumbling in slow motion. Promises echoed in her head like cruel ghosts.
Without a word, she turned and walked away.
Each step felt heavier than the last. Her chest ached with every breath. Her vision blurred.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, unnoticed by the bustling city around her.
She was broken. Hollow. Shattered.
And completely, utterly alone.
- Writer
