Done With My Ex, Moving To The Next

Chapter 4: Tears, S3x, And Departure

Chapter 4: Tears, s*x, Departure

I'd slept in tears on my wedding night—because I realized how easy it was for him to say hurtful words to my face. It hurt more than it did when my parents had forced the wedding.

It hurt me more that I was foolishly losing my guard—I was beginning to see him as someone I could love and be with. And I burned with hatred for it. Sadly not him. I could only hate myself instead.

That night, I sobbed quietly as I dumped my ring on the vanity.

His words replayed in my head like a recorded tape, and each time they replayed, they sank deeper and more meaning registered.

Slowly, a day had passed and news of my marriage had spread across the internet. Funnily, our wedding pictures only had my face while his was blurred. I'd come to accept that I was now locked in a prison —one I'd spend the rest of my life in. One that I'd allowed my parents to push me into. Maybe because I tried to be the “good daughter"

Even two days had passed, and I now dwelled in the atmosphere that reeked of emotional detachment.

“But do you really have to leave me here?" I asked, my tone leaving its normal, calm volume, following the deep sigh that escaped my chest as soon as he informed me of his business trip. It wasn't deliberate but somehow, my system had readjusted to the distance that was between us. We had no couple connection whatsoever. This period was supposed to be our honeymoon but it felt nothing like one.

"It's business, Stella.” He said, sipping the tea from his cup. He smiled after that hot sip while I ate silently from the food that never seemed to reduce.

I returned the smile faintly—not for happiness but because he didn't disappoint me. A part of me was waiting for a self-centered answer from him and of course, he didn't fail to provide one.

“You know there are other ladies, right? You could have chosen any of them all”

Breath, Stella. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't.

He raised his eyes to mine, with a knowing smile.

"Why did it have to be me?” Every word I said, took me closer to shedding the tears I'd fought so badly to hold back.

“I’d suggest we don't have this conversation, Stella.”

"Why? You're scared you'll say things to hurt me?” He stared at me like I was some clown, no emotion on his face. Just a neutral look that was somewhere between wondering if I was mentally okay and needing a blueprint on how I flipped the atmosphere within seconds.

"Oh! You can't just pretend you're a green flag and then, somehow change overnight. You're not being fair, Dylan” My tears fell. I lost control.

"Do you know what it means to be married?? Do you know how it feels to be committed to someone who doesn't give a f**k about you?? Do you know what it means to be forced to do something that will not change till eternity??” I looked him deep in the eyes, my mascara washed down my face.

"No, you don't.” I released the air in my chest.

“Don't just look at me, Dy. Say something!" I raised my already hoarse voice till the point my eyes watered. He didn't blink.

"We do not have time for all of these. My brother is visiting today, be ready to welcome him,” He said casually. Every pore on my skin stung as my eyes shut tight.

“That's all that matters, right?"

“What do you mean?" He stood from his chair, eyes fixed on me as he walked close to me.

He bent, his eyes on my cleavage, and then proceeded to trail my neck and cleavage area with the tip of his fingers. I didn't know how he could do that but it felt good.

“You can't do this, you can’t," I said to him, but my body wanted it. I didn't realize how much everything in me craved his touch.

I was supposed to scream or maybe push him away, but I wouldn't dare—I loved how his eyes lingered on mine. I loved every f*****g thing he was doing to me.

“Come here, Stel" He helped me stand, his hand trailing every curve on my body. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his warm exhale doing to me all the things I never knew were possible.

My gaze softened at his touch, the feel of his skin against mine, and when our lips finally met, I could feel the butterflies in my belly and the sound of our hearts beating in synchronism.

I pulled my lips from his but he pulled me back for an even deeper and more intimate kiss.

“We can't do this here," I said, low on breath as he raised me to the dining table.

God, I was dripping underneath already.

His breath intensified, his eyes fixed on mine as his fingers trailed my inner thighs.

A sharp sweet yet painful moan escaped my half-closed lips as he slid his finger into me, filling the tightness of my hole.

“Mmm…” I bit back my words as he went in tighter, his palm fondling my n*****s till they turned hard.

Everything about that moment felt heightened. The sensation. The sense.

I closed my eyes tight, my head pressing against his chest as I squeezed my grip on his collar at every inch his fingers moved inside of me.

My skin caught his erect c**k, already straining the elasticity of his textured pants, I subconsciously drifted my hand from his collar down to his waist.

He was rock hard.

I unzipped his pants, letting out his full length before me. The tip already laced with precum, I got right into his arms.

While in his arms, his b***r poked my ass till it finally slid in my p***y. My eyes turned misty, the thickness threatening to tear the walls of my p***y apart.

“Ugghh, you're damn good” He gasped as I galloped in his arms, each movement taking his c**k closer to my uterus.

The pain was bearable. I liked it. It felt good.

We f****d till my bones ached and the soft morning sun turned into a hot breezy afternoon.

I'd taken a nap after our hot “make out" and my best friend's call jolted me out of my sleep.

Valerie and I talked for a while and to each question, I couldn't resist the urge to tell a big fat lie. I lied without thinking twice, especially when I shamelessly muttered, “He treats me well". It should have been stuck in my mouth but somehow, it didn't. I hated that I said it, I hated that I even had to.

Realizing I was now married and sharing marital talk with her would be of no use, was a sad reality.

It was sadder than anything I'd experienced. It was even sadder that my own parents were not willing to listen.

I watched him drag his luggage out of the house, into the car that was waiting.

Its engine fuming, I hoped for something as small as a kiss or peck but it didn't seem like he cared.

He was far from someone who would show it. Perhaps I was overthinking it.

He settled in the car, my arms folded as I stood in disappointment that fit perfectly under my smile.

The driver waited, then he said to me, stretching his index finger towards me nonchalantly,” My brother will be here today, treat him well. He's still family even though he can be dangerous"

We didn't get time to talk at length about his family, but I nodded like I understood as my lips pressed into a thin line. My head totally emptied of the right things to think, and tears formed in my eyes as the car zoomed off.

I didn't know which to admit: The slow fear that was creeping inside of me already or the struggle to survive two weeks ahead, without the man I married.