Page 57 of In Every Lifetime
Sarah
We managed to find a small alcove—not quite a cave, but a shield from the rainstorm that had hit. It was just our luck that a rainstorm would find us when we were actively traversing the woods. Not in the last few days, or after we had found safety, but now.
The rain fell heavily around us, the sound of crashing water everywhere as it broke through the trees and onto the ground.
I looked at Fai, who was standing next to me, his hair once again plastered to his forehead, water droplets falling down his cheeks and under his shirt, which was also soaked. The thin shirt was molded to every ridge and muscle of his torso, teasing me with the body I loved. I wasn’t much better. The hoodie Fai had pulled over my head was damp and heavy on my frame. I pulled it off and over my head, revealing an equally wet shirt, throwing it to the ground by us.
We were both soaked through, from head to toe.
The rain didn’t dampen the fury within me. My heart was pounding in my chest. I was livid with him—so goddamnedangry. I wanted to scream, cry, and fight. I wanted him to understand every bit of betrayal I felt within.
Helovedme.
That damned idiot loved me, and yet he had lied and said he didn’t. He knew that by lying, I would finally give up on him; I would finally leave. I would sever that final tie that bound us together. And that’s what he wanted. He wanted me to walk away. He wanted me to leave him.
“Why didn’t you just do it?” I asked wearily.
He looked down at me, his eyes pleading with me to stop with this conversation. But I couldn’t. I was finally getting the answers I had wanted for over a year. “Do what?”
“File the papers. Divorce me.”
He sighed. It was a weary sigh wrought from months of lying to me—lying to all those around him about us. “I couldn’t.”
“Yes, you could have,” I argued, turning to face him fully.
This was the most ridiculous setting to have this conversation. We were stuck in a cave, in the middle of a rainstorm while running from his maybe crazed brother. But I was beyond caring. I had questions for him, and he owed me all the answers.
He shook his head. “No, I couldn’t have. I couldn’t give you up. Icouldlet you leave. Icouldlet you walk away, but there is no version of me that would be able to leave you.”
“Do you realize how selfish that is? How selfish you were to do that to me? You were too much of a coward to file the damned papers yourself. You lied; you broke my heart; you broke me. You made me do your dirty work,” I argued back, my voice rising with each word, tears spilling over my cheeks. “You lied,” I seethed.
His eyes flamed. “And you didn’t?”
I scoffed. “A fake boyfriend is nothing compared to a lie that ended our marriage.”
“Would you be able to handle the news that I had moved on? That I had found someone new to love—someone other than you?” he challenged.
The idea of Fai with another woman sent a stone to my stomach I hadn’t expected. After everything—our relationship, marriage, and divorce—I had not once thought of him moving on.
“I was selfish, yes!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands to his sides. “I have never once claimed to be perfect. You knew how broken I was when you married me. But I can say with everything I am, I have lied to you once. Lie by omission, yes, a thousand times. I didn’t always tell you the truth. I didn’t tell you when I relapsed. I didn’t tell you when I started spiraling. But I spoke one lie. One single time, to save you. To save you from me.” He pointed to himself, punctuating his point.
I glared at him, so angry he was comparing my stupid lie about a boyfriend to his lie about loving me.
“I hate you,” I growled.
He glared at me right back, his brown eyes meeting mine with force, not willing to back down. “No, you don’t. You hate that you still love me.”
He was right. I hated that I let myself be hurt by him. I hated that I had stayed with him as long as I had. I hated that he had lied to me. I hated that he tried to justify it as necessary to save me. But most of all, I hated that no matter what he did, no matter how he hurt me, or no matter how hard he pushed me away, I would always, irrevocably love him.
We were nearly touching, both of our chests heaving. Every muscle in my body was taut—ready to explode on him—and he seemed to be the same. He looked down at me, his glare slowly filling with a heat I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t anger, nor lust, but a mixture of the two dancing in his eyes.
“You do, don’t you?” he asked, his voice near a growl. “Say it… say you love me.”
I shook my head, refusing to give in to him.
He stepped closer, the distance between us now gone. I could feel the heat of his body radiating through his shirt and sweeping across my chest. All semblance of logic was leaving me as his breath fanned my face while he looked down at me. He took his hand and raised my chin with his forefinger. “Say it, Sarah. Say you love me.”
“I hate you,” I muttered with no conviction.
