Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
And that sound...just wasn’t enough.
Her hand drifted to the chain at her throat. Troy’s ring hung from it, warm against her skin, hidden under her sweatshirt the way it had been hidden under every shirt she’d worn for the past seven years. She had left behind the mug, the badge, the stickers. But the ring she couldn’t leave. The ring she wore against her heart because it was the one thing about their marriage that had always felt real.
She wrapped her arms around herself, but it didn’t help. She realized now that the silence disturbed her because it allowed her to think of things that she didn’t want to think. Before this, she had nothing to hide from. Before this, even when she was on her own, she was comfortable in letting her thoughts roam free.
But that was before.
When she hadn’t yet fallen in love.
And got her heart broken.
In those days, she had embraced both the noise and the silence. Actually, if one were to ask the people who knew her, they’d say that Laina herself was the noise in everyone’s lives. She was the type to laugh freely and chat nonstop about the things she loved. Her enthusiasm matched those of her students, and she had never been the type to hold back to look cool. Her curiosity and friendliness knew no bounds. And so did her lack of organization, which often contributed to the daily noise in her life. She was always missing something. Or tripping over something.
And to be fair...
Those things hadn’t changed when she met...him. Or when she had moved into his home. She had stayed the same. While the man she married...he was the one who had changed.
Her phone suddenly buzzed, and the sound made her jerk.
Her gaze strayed to its screen, and her heart just...sank.
It was a text from Aunt Trisha. Troy's aunt. The one relative of his who had always been kind to her. Who had always made her feel welcome at family gatherings, even when Laina couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't quite belong.
Troy called me earlier, sweetheart. He told me what happened. I just want you to know I'm here if you need to talk. You know I've always considered you the daughter I never had.
Laina stared at the message for a long time.
So Troy had already told his family. Before even talking to her about it, he had called his aunt. And while a part of her understood, another part of her...
It hurt. In a small, quiet way that she couldn't quite name. Because it meant that when Troy needed someone to talk to, Laina wasn't the person he turned to. She never had been.
She was still thinking of what to reply when her phone buzzed in her hands again, and this time, the name on the screen made her pale.
Troy.
The phone nearly slipped from her fingers. He was calling her. Again. This man who could have had any woman in the world. He was calling her like she really mattered to him.
And he...had been doing a lot of that since she left.
Calling. Texting. Even leaving her voicemails, which he had never done before.
Until now.
Until when it was too late.
The buzzing finally stopped.
But she already knew...
Ah.
There it was again.
In a way, she should probably be...relieved?
Because honestly, a part of her had been terrified that he would just nod once she told him about the divorce. And he would simply let her go because she had long ceased to matter.
So these repeated attempts to contact her, even if it was just his guilt acting up...
That meant she still mattered to him—no, actually, that wasn’t fair to him. He had his faults, but he had never abused or neglected her. She had always mattered to him, and he had always provided for her in ways that most wives could only dream of. Because of him, she could buy or do anything she wanted. Fly wherever she wanted in his private jet. And honestly, when he was at home, their nights...were really, really...well, let’s just say she hadn’t anything to complain of.
But even so.
Even so.
Laina forced herself up the moment she felt her eyes start to well up.
Don’t cry, Laina. This is for the best. So don’t cry.
She looked around and told herself it was time to put on her big-girl pants and start doing something. Anything. The walls in this apartment were still bare. She only had a mattress, but she didn’t have a bed or a couch. She had packed her suitcase, and her toiletries, and her teaching bag. But the rest of her belongings were back at home—no, no, don’t call it that!
What she meant was that she had left stuff at...his place. And she would simply have to learn to make do without them. It was that or allow herself to talk to him—