Page 19 of Unforeseen Love

I bring up the recording of her waking up and falling off the sofa, and the more I watch it, the more I’m laughing. After trimming it, I upload it to my TikTok account and immediately share it to my group chat.

Matt: Damn, that's cold, mate, but also fucking hilarious.

Whatever, it’s not like he wouldn’t have done the same thing if the opportunity arose. Besides, it's not like it will go viral or anything.

Phil: Mate, she’s going to kill you.

I shake my head.

Me: Only if she finds out.

There are millions of people on the app, so it's doubtful.

Feeling smug, I pull out some leftover pasta from the fridge and stick it in the microwave, just as ‘like’ notifications and comments of my TikTok begin hitting my phone.

Just then, it rings, and the good mood I was in quickly dissipates––fucking Orla. I hold my finger down and then swipe my phone off this time.

One good thing is she doesn’t have the landline number for the flat, thank fuck, but I do need to pull out my tablet and make sure no more bills are under my name. Seriously, who in their right mind would still expect their ex-boyfriend to pay the bills of the house they are no longer living in after they were caught cheating?

ChapterThirteen

Sienna

“Bloody arsehole,” I mutter as I re-arrange my scatter cushions on my bed.

He did it on purpose. I knew I should have read in my room, but I refuse to be a prisoner in my own home. Pulling out my mat from underneath my bed, I roll it out. Maybe a little light yoga will help after being so rudely awaken.

“I can do this. I just need to get through the next couple of weeks until lockdown is eased.”

Then if the worst comes to the worst, I’ll look for my own place. Of course I’ll do it grudgingly.

After forty-five minutes of breathing and yoga exercises, I feel somewhat better.

Grabbing my anti-bacterial wipes, I wipe over my mat before rolling it up and storing it back underneath my bed.

I finish my water and head into the kitchen to refill my bottle when I pass the calendar on the fridge.

“Bins. Shit.” Knew there was something I forgot.

Pulling the bin liner out of the general waste, I tie it in a knot and then do the same with the recycling, before grabbing the handle of small food recycling bin.

Once I’m at the front door, I slip on my flip-flops and put the door on the latch, and then when I have a good grip, I take the rubbish down to the main bins and walk them up the path.

Walking back, a noise catches my attention, but I carry on, and then when I hear the faintest mewling sound, I pause and strain, listening for the noise again. Sure enough, I’m met with mewling and rustling. Slowly, I move towards the source. The outside light gives off just enough for me to see a box with a flap open. A patch of fur pokes out and then disappears back inside.

Crouching down, I hold my breath as I pull the flaps open, and I startle when sets of glowing eyes stare back at me.

Clutching my chest, I let out a small shriek, my heart starts racing, but then the figures move and meow––kittens.

Wrapping my hands around the box, I pull it towards me and lift it, putting a hand underneath the box that looks like it’s seen better days––and the whiff coming from the box tells me that so have the kittens.

Back indoors, I place the box down and lock the door before heading into the main bathroom and switching on the light.

Inside the box are four kittens, all pawing and meowing. They can’t be more than a few weeks old.

Reaching in, I pull one out and have a look. It’s clear they’ve been dumped, and the thought irks me to no end. I can see it’s covered in fleas.

“Oh my God,” I say. “Poor little loves.”

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