The Arm Of A Stranger
Chapter Three
The Arm Of A Stranger
I stand before Peter, my heart drumming against my ribs as the silence between us speaks with unsaid words.
"Who is Veronica, who is she?" I ask finally. My voice is even, though laced with anxiety. I need answers, but instead of responding, he just looks at me with a guarded expression. His eyes, once so warm, now feel cold and distant.
"Peter, I deserve to know, I need to know," I prod, hoping he would say something to break the silence. Without a word, he simply turns back and walks out of his office, leaving me standing there. I watch him go and feel the wave of helplessness just crash over me. It feels like a slap in the face, and loneliness wraps around me like a heavy blanket.
I am lost,I don't know what to do, I am lost in though, i left alone in that stark office. The anger welling up inside me starts to dissipate and, in its place, a great sadness. How did we get here? I thought I knew my husband, but now I feel like a stranger in his life, I don't understand him anymore.
I pull out my phone, my fingers trembling, and start scrolling down the contacts. I am having a heart racing while in somewhat hesitant mode dialing the number of Sarah-a friendly woman from Peter's office, who always seems to know what is happening.
"Hey, Sarah," I say when she answers. "Can you tell me anything about Veronica Sinclair, I mean Veronica?" My voice is even, but inside my stomach churns.
There's a pause on the other end, and I can almost hear her weighing her words. "I…I….l... I can't talk about that, I can't say anything," she finally responds, her voice carefully cautious. "It's not my place to say.
Her words cut, and I feel a sting of betrayal. If she won't tell me, then I have to find out myself. I hang up and steel myself. This isn't going away; the truth needs to come out, I need to know the truth.
Hours later, my fingers still shaking, I type Veronica's name into the search bar on my laptop. With each result that comes up, my stomach flips with every click-like I stand at the edge of a cliff, ready to jump. And then I inhale deeply, steadying myself as the results load.
Pictures come up on the screen—Veronica laughing, her arm over Peter's shoulder, her face close to his. My breath catches in my throat as I scroll through them; with each image, I feel myself being pulled further down into despair. This is not just a colleague; this is someone special for him, someone close to his heart than me,. And with every photo, it feels like my heart breaks, I feel down and sad.
But one picture is seared into my memory: a picture of them hugging and kissing, the intimacy so clear that it feels like someone punched me in the gut. I couldn't believe my eyes. How would Peter do this to me, how could he betrayed the love I have for him? I thought we had a strong marriage that was based on trusting and loving each other; now, all seemed to be a lie.
Smothered, I slam my laptop shut and reach for my coat. I have to get out. I walk to the nearest bar in order to try to take my mind off things with a drink. As I step outside, the cool night air fills my lungs, but it does little to clear my mind. My thoughts spiral, each one tainted with images of Peter and Veronica together, their laughter echoing in my ears like some kind of cruel taunt.
The interior of the bar is dark; low conversations murmur with glass clinking, which fills the air. I order a drink. The cold glass feels nice against my palm. I sip, trying to rid my brain of Peter and Veronica images-even if for a little while. The burn of alcohol takes the ache off a notch.
And then he gets up to walk over to me, tall, sure of himself, smiling this softly compelling way. I can feel an antenna of attraction go up, something I am far from used to lately. We talk with ease, his words making me laugh, and for a second, I forget the pain and betrayal that has gnawed at my guts. With every drink, the weight on my shoulders lightens just a little more, while the background music volume increases, filling my veins with its rhythm, making me feel alive again.
And before I know it, we are closer, my knees touching his, and my heart racing madly. I feel alive as the hurt seems to dissipate for this one night. He leans in, and I let myself fall into his arms, wanting to forget-Peter, Veronica, and the pain.
His kiss is electric; it sends shivers and sparks deep into the heart of me. For a second, I can let go and swim in this feeling of newness. Tonight, I want to feel something different, untainted by any form of betrayal. For the first time in weeks, I am free.
But as the night wears on, a part of me knows this is just an escape. I can't outrun my problems forever. I pull back, catching the concern in the stranger's eyes.
"Are you okay, are you alright?" he asks softly.
In the dim light, he kisses me with passion, his hands dancing across my skin with a tenderness I haven't experienced in so long. For a while, I let myself go, completely allowing the warmth in his touch to drive out the cold ache left by Peter's betrayal and the pains. I lose myself in intimacy, in that sensation of being wanted, desired.
But even as passion overcomes me, I am hit by a pang of guilt. I know in the morning, I would have to face the reality of my marriage and the fractured pieces of my heart. Tonight, though, I silence the doubt, let the stranger's embrace drown out everything.
What mattered was that fleeting moment-one of really being seen.
.