Page 2 of The Dalgur’s Pet

This was certainly not how she had expected to end the night, driving blindly into the desert for who knows what reason? She hadn’t known where to go, and couldn’t return to their shared apartment after what had happened at dinner.

Impulsive, certainly, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Anything to get away, to escape, to give herself a chance to think after the gut punch she’d just received.

Her arms were trembling as she sniffled, trying to keep her eyes on the road.

Maybe if she’d just stop pestering him about spending more time together, Anthony wouldn’t have done this, wouldn’t have broken up with her at their anniversary dinner because he just didn’t see them working out long term…

Maybe she should have just agreed to trying for children, but he’d seemed ambivalent enough about it, not saying much after she’d scheduled a hysterectomy. Though the way his mother had glared at her that first dinner they’d all shared after her surgery… he must have told her, and clearly the bitter woman hadn’t been pleased.

“I just don’t see how we would work long term.”

The memory of his smug face replayed in her mind, making her shudder.

You’d think that would be something a person figured out before they let their girlfriend move in, before they intertwined their lives so intricately that it would be an absolute nightmare to break it apart.

She’d moved all the way to the West Coast for him, had taken a pay cut to do so, leaving everyone she’d ever known in the process all so he could be back in the same state as his family.

Giselle let out a wracking sob, her throat hurting and her chest clenching as the tears started again.

She took out her phone, a beacon of light in the stark darkness of her car, and scrolled through their last text messages, trying to find something, anything, that hinted at this. Nothing out of the ordinary, just grocery lists and funny memes, though in hindsight, it was all very one-sided.

The car vibrated as it hit the shoulder rumble strip and she dropped her phone, putting both hands on the wheel and swerving back into her lane.

She tried to breathe, tried to focus, tried to remember what her therapist had taught her.

“Sometimes you need to acknowledge and thank your mind for wanting to solve something it recognizes as a problem. It’s natural for the brain to want to review and understand what happened. Focus on your breathing exercises. Remember the present moment.”

Giselle gasped in a deep breath, letting the air flow out raggedly.

One in, one out. One in, one out.

She had to stay focused. Crashing her car would do her no good. If she went off the road out here in the middle of nowhere, who knows when someone would find her. There had been no service on her phone when she’d checked a moment ago, so calling for help was out of the question.

And who would she call, anyway?

Her shitty ex? Oh, she could just imagine the look of pity on his face, that expression of benevolence that made it clear he thought he was better than her. Who else was there? Her few friends, who always seemed to be too busy when she tried to call them?

Breathe.

One in, one out.

Giselle’s attempt at following the breathing technique she’d been taught wasn’t working, her mind going a mile a minute even as she tried to keep her eyes on the road.

Was there someone else? Someone prettier than her? Smarter than her? Anthony hadn’t seemed more busy than usual, but it wasn’t like they were together one hundred percent of the time. Wasn’t she good enough?

She was always looking out for others, volunteering at the food pantry, celebrating the successes of her friends, bringing Anthony coffee in bed every morning before she left for work at the bank.

In hindsight, perhaps her efforts had been less valued than she’d realized. When had he ever thanked her? Or shown any sort of appreciation in return? She was the one who took care of all the chores and cooking, even though they both had full-time jobs. And he was the one who spent every evening glued to the small screen of his phone, even after her therapist had urged her to speak honestly with him about her needs.

They hadn’t had sex in months, and she knew it wasn’t because he wasn’t interested. She’d overheard him in his office—somehow he had ended up with the extra room even though they split rent and he didn’t work from home—pleasuring himself to some cheesy videos. The ones where the women fake moaned, all to appease the man who was drilling into her like a jackhammer.

There had been no intimacy or companionship of any kind, no dates, no nights out, no real conversations. She couldn’t even sit on the couch and try to watch a show without Anthony getting up to leave, as if he couldn’t bear to be in the same room as her.

Her friends weren’t much better. She’d treated them to so many celebration dinners over the years, but who had celebrated her when she got that promotion at work?

No one.

Was she a complete fool?