Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Colette was enveloped in the comforting embrace of sleep, that perfect kind of rest where time seems to stand still. She was certain it wasn’t morning yet—the weight of darkness still pressed against her closed eyelids. Every muscle in her body was relaxed, her mind at ease for the first time in what felt like weeks. She didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t want to lose this rare moment of peace. She was home, truly home, wrapped in the safety and warmth of her husband’s arms.
But something tugged at the edges of her mind, a faint, insistent noise that pricked at her subconscious. It was a subtle sound, like a soft tapping, and it gradually pulled her away from the depths of her slumber. At first, she resisted, desperate to cling to the tranquility that had eluded her for so long. But the noise persisted, growing louder, more pronounced, like a distant knock echoing in the back of her mind.
She shifted slightly, instinctively reaching out for the solid warmth she was sure would be beside her. Her hand moved across the bed, searching for Matt’s familiar presence, but instead, it met with cool, empty sheets. The warmth that she had always found comforting was absent, leaving her with a sudden chill that pierced the peaceful haze she had been wrapped in.
“Matt?” she whispered, her voice breaking the silence of the room. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting slowly to the darkness. The room was cloaked in shadows, the only light coming from the soft glow of the night lamp on the bedside table. The sound of footsteps reached her ears, faint but unmistakable, and her heart quickened. She sat up, her eyes scanning the dimly lit room.
“Matt, is that you?” she called out, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to shake off the remnants of sleep. She squinted through the darkness, her gaze finally landing on the figure of her husband. He was standing at the edge of the room, his back to her, searching for something in the dim light.
He was moving with an urgency that made her uneasy, his hands rifling through drawers, his shoulders tense. The calm she had felt just moments ago was gone.
Matt’s voice broke the stillness of the room, low and apologetic. “Itty, I’m sorry for waking you,” he muttered, his words barely audible as he rummaged through the nightstand beside the bed. The sound of drawers sliding open and shut filled the room, punctuated by the occasional clink of objects being moved aside. He was searching for something, but what?
Colette blinked, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep as she pushed herself up on the bed. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice thick with lingering drowsiness. Her eyes followed his hurried movements, confusion knitting her brows.
“Have you seen my phone?” Matt replied, his tone tense with urgency. “I need to inform Iri—the office—that I won’t be back tomorrow. Since we stayed the night, they’ll need to cancel the meeting scheduled for the evening.”
Colette’s heart skipped a beat as she caught the slip. He had almost said Iris’s name. The sting of it was sharp, a fresh wound layered over the many others that had been festering beneath the surface. The fact that his first thought was to inform Iris of his absence cut deeper than she wanted to admit. But she forced herself to push the pain aside, focusing instead on the immediate reality: Matt, frantically searching for his phone, unaware that she had hidden it beneath the bed.
Her pulse quickened as she watched him, the anxiety bubbling up within her.
He rattled through the drawers, his frustration growing as the phone remained elusive. Colette bit her lip, torn between the urge to keep silent and the overwhelming need to speak, to confront him about the slip, about everything. But the words caught in her throat, tangled in the emotions she was barely holding back.
“I know where it is,” Colette said at last, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound firm. Her heart raced furiously in her chest, each beat a reminder of the confrontation she was about to face. She knew that revealing the truth would not be well received, particularly when the phone was filled with countless missed calls from Iris. The bile of anxiety surged up her throat, threatening to choke her.
With a deep breath, she pulled herself out of bed, clutching the white bed sheet to her chest. It fell in loose folds around her, offering some semblance of modesty against the vulnerability of her nakedness. The sheet was a feeble shield, but it was all she had.
As she moved, she could feel Matt's eyes on her, a mixture of confusion and mounting irritation in his gaze. She bent down slowly, her movements deliberate and painfully aware of the scrutiny she was under. The cool floor against her skin only heightened her sense of exposure. When she retrieved the phone from beneath the bed, the silence in the room was thick, almost suffocating.
Her hands trembled as she handed the phone to him, her eyes lowered to avoid the piercing look she knew would follow. Matt took the phone, his fingers brushing against hers briefly.
There was no hiding anymore, no pretending everything was alright. The truth was laid bare in the cold light of the dimly lit room. Colette’s voice was soft and regretful, like a child caught in a lie. “I switched it off and kept it there,” she admitted, her gaze fixed on the floor. Her face flushed with a mix of shame and sorrow, her words barely more than a whisper.
“Why?” The word escaped Matt’s lips with an almost unbearable weight. It was just one word, but his face told a story far more complex than mere syllables could convey. In his eyes, there was a depth of disbelief, an implicit question that seemed to challenge any conceivable justification for Colette’s actions. He had already condemned her.
Colette met his gaze, her own eyes reflecting the turmoil she felt inside. “Because I wanted tonight to be for us. Just you and me, without your blasted company, business, and work intruding. For one night, I just wanted you to myself.”
The words “And away from Iris!” were on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them back, unwilling to risk further inflaming his already intense anger. The name of that woman was a curse in itself, and she could see that Matt’s mind was already consumed by her presence. The hurt and rage were visible in his body language, his shoulders rigid, his movements abrupt. He had turned his back on her, and the cold silence between them was as sharp as a blade.
Matt’s face was a mask of fury as he stepped out onto the balcony, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. Colette watched him go, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and resignation. She quickly slipped on a white, flimsy nightgown she had packed, its delicate fabric doing little to shield her from the storm of emotions that raged within. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clenched tightly in her lap, eyes squeezed shut as if willing the situation to resolve itself.
The minutes dragged on, each tick of the clock a painful reminder of the confrontation that was brewing. When Matt finally reentered the room, his anger was palpable. His every movement was charged with a seething intensity. He threw open the wardrobe doors with a force that rattled the room and began to furiously stuff his clothes and belongings into his duffel bag.
“What are you doing?” Colette’s voice broke through the tension, but it was not a question; it was an exclamation of anguish and confusion. “Matt!”
He didn’t respond, lost in the chaos of his emotions. Colette rushed forward, her heart aching as she reached out to grasp his arm, trying to halt his frantic packing. Her fingers tightened around his wrist, a desperate plea for him to stop, to listen, to understand.
Matt jerked away from her touch, his eyes blazing with an anger that seemed almost primal. The room was filled with the sounds of his hurried movements and her choked sobs, the gulf between them widening with each second that passed.
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