3: New Year’s Threesome
876 Words
LILY-ROSE’S POV
DECEMBER 22nd, 2025
I sat in silence, and the house felt wrong, like it was watching me unravel. My TV was in splinters against the wall, and the radio had been beaten down to crumbs. The Italian chandelier that used to be the center of the room now littered the floor in tiny crystal pieces, sparkling like it was mocking me for ever believing in anything beautiful.
Jimmy finally pushed me over the edge, and the terrifying part was that I felt myself go. He did exactly what he promised he would never do when he asked me to marry him, and I remembered the look in his eyes when he swore he would never hurt me like that. What made it worse, what made my hands shake, was knowing he hadn’t just done it once. He had been doing it for months, coming home to me like nothing was wrong, kissing my forehead, sleeping in my bed, and lying straight to my face.
It had been two weeks since Jimmy moved into the guest room, and those two weeks felt like a punishment I never agreed to. I spent every one of those days calling divorce lawyers, repeating my story over and over until my voice went hoarse, but the second they heard the name James Fowler, the tone changed.
Then came the apologies. The excuses. The declined calls. No one wanted to take my case.
Jimmy kept coming home with lipstick stains on his shirts, like he wanted me to see them, and when I finally snapped and confronted him, he smirked and called me bipolar and a selfish diva. He told me I had no evidence, and he said it so calmly it made me feel like I was losing my mind.
But I wasn’t crazy.
So I took it upon myself to hire a private investigator, and the verdict was in.
I lay on the battered leather couch with a baseball bat heavy in my hand, and I realized I had used it to redecorate the house because breaking things hurt less than breaking down. Every damn thing reminded me of him, and it made my chest burn.
The couch where we used to Netflix and chill. The glass table where we had s*x last Valentine’s Day. The kitchen counter where he took me after I told him I was pregnant with our first child, and he whispered that he loved me like it was a vow.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
The clock on the wall mocked me, and each second felt like a nail being driven deeper into my skull. It had been nine hours and twenty-two minutes since I saw the photos. Clear, cruel proof of the man I loved wrapped around another woman like I meant nothing.
I couldn’t unsee it.
I couldn’t unfeel it.
And I knew something inside me had cracked.
He was probably in New York City by now, drinking expensive whiskey and pretending he wasn’t destroying me. He left me alone in this massive house in Alabama like I was already erased.
His mother had the kids for Christmas break, but they were supposed to be home tomorrow, and the thought made my stomach twist because I didn’t know how I was supposed to smile for them when my soul felt hollowed out. Jimmy left a neat little note saying he was working out of town, but I knew the truth.
He was with Trudy Whitfield. His twenty-one-year-old secretary.
Tick-tock.
“Shut up!” I screamed, clutching my chest as my heart slammed so hard it felt violent.
I couldn’t stand the pain anymore, and it felt like it was crawling under my skin, begging to be let out. I jumped up, and using the baseball bat, I smashed the clock to smithereens, watching it explode against the wall.
Good.
Time deserved to die too.
Lightning split the sky, and thunder followed like the universe was agreeing with me. I pulled back the blinds and watched the rain slam against the window. A single tear slid down my cheek and landed in my palm, and I stared at it like it offended me.
“Why did I marry him?” I sobbed, but even as the words left my mouth, something darker stirred beneath the grief.
I stood there for minutes, staring at the rain, and I hated that I used to love it. I hated that it reminded me of the day we met at the bus stand on Duke Street, when I collided into his muscular frame and his smile hooked into me instantly. He offered me his umbrella and walked me to my stop like he was a gentleman out of a romance novel, and I was stupid enough to fall for it. I was shocked to learn later that he was the new attorney at my firm, and I took it as fate, even though I made him work for it.
Now I knew better.
There was no fate.
There were only choices.
And Jimmy made his.
The rain blurred the world outside until nothing made sense anymore. I slowly laid down on the floor right where I was, surrounded by broken glass and shattered memories, letting sleep drag me under.
- Writer
