Chapter 8

[Cordelia–earlier this evening]

He doesn’t believe me. He can’t even see me. 

And he thinks this is all my fault.

Watching Atlas speaking with his secretary in hushed tones as turns his back on me reminds me of the scene from the other day in the cafe. All the small, tender touches between them, are so different from how he treats me. Even right now, his hand is on the small of her back protectively as he pulls the suitcase across the threshold. 

I watch the scene unfold, helpless to do anything.

Here I am again, the fool, watching him love another like a stranger in my own relationship. Only now he is bringing her into our home, flaunting his relationship right under my nose. 

My world is spinning. With blurry eyes I rush past them on the stairs, heading to my room. I slam the door behind me and land with a crash on my bed. 

The mumble of their voices in the entryway below just confirms what I already knew. 

“He doesn’t love me and he never will,” I mumble into my pillow. “Forget about Atlas, he means nothing to you.”

I’m not sure how long I lay there face down, talking myself out of loving him but I must have fallen asleep. The room is dark when the sound of something crashing to the ground startles me awake. There is a slam, like a body hitting the wall followed by moaning. 

It is coming from the wall I share with Atlas’ study room, which if I remember has a nice, large couch just big enough for two.

I cover my ears with my pillow. But it is not enough, I can still hear them. Nothing I do makes the sounds from next door stop.

“Oh Atlas…” she moans, another slam hitting the wall. In my mind I can see Atticus above her, pushing her onto the couch over and over again.

Something else hits the ground. They are so into their passion they aren’t even being careful when they knock things off of shelves. 

“Oh hell,” Atlas grunts, and I see his face, the way it looked that night when he was close to reaching the edge of his passion. 

I was right. He did bring her here just so he could have his mistress close to him. I can’t keep going on like this. I refuse to lie here, listening to them slam into one another with so little discretion or consideration. 

Grabbing a suitcase out of the closet, I begin throwing clothing and shoes inside. I make sure to grab enough for a few days, or at least until I can get a chance to buy new clothes. Everything in this room was purchased with Atlas’ money. I want nothing to remind me of this place once I leave. 

Of course, he probably won’t even notice I’m gone either. 

As I march down the stairs, my stomach starts to grumble. I still haven’t eaten much since I fell ill and I missed lunch and dinner again. That’s probably why I’ve been so dizzy.

But I don’t want to stop. I need to get out of here. 

“Cordelia,” a gruff voice calls after me as he huffs down the stairs. 

I have no intention of stopping to talk. Not after the sounds I just heard. There is nothing he can say that would make it acceptable for him to have sex with another woman in the room next door to me. Even if he is mad at me, there is no reason to be cruel. 

As I misjudge the distance in the dark due to anger, I miss the last step on the staircase. 

“Cordelia!” he leaps the rest of the way down the stairs. Bending down, he scoops me into his lap. “What are you doing? Why are you walking around at night with…” he looks over and sees my packed bag and his voice falters, becoming quiet. “Are you going somewhere?”

His arms are tender, and gentle, as he holds me waiting for a response. I close my eyes as his hand brushes away a strand of hair. Feeling myself firmly within his grasp sends tingles throughout my body as I remember the night before and how gentle he had been with me as he set me down in his bed. “Atlas, I..” 

I smell something sticky and sweet that makes my stomach turn and my lips curl. Honeysuckle, jasmine, and…winter rose? I open my eyes, the smell of Sydney’s perfume making my eyes water. Looking at his shirt I see a smear of pink lip gloss in the perfect shape of lips on his chest near his heart.

That’s right. I was out here for a reason. 

“Goodbye, Atlas,” I right myself and walk towards the door, my left foot wobbling as I make my way around him. 

“Cordelia, Where do you think you are going?”

I open the door. It has started to rain again. Fitting, considering our marriage started on a sad note. 

Let it end on one as well. 

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyers, Atlas,” I say firmly as I look into his blue eyes one last time. 

“I want a divorce.”