Page 13 of The Anniversary Betrayal
He sat in his car, but didn’t start it. His hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, his forehead resting against it like a man praying to something that could never forgive him. He replayed her voice, every word of it. The fury. The heartbreak. The way she looked at him like she didn’t even recognize him anymore and the worst part? She was right. Every single word had been the truth.
He’d made choices. Choices that had chipped away at their marriage piece by piece, until there was nothing left but rubble. His phone buzzed beside him. A message from Rebecca.Are you okay?
He stared at it, bile rising in his throat.Am I okay?He’d just destroyed the best thing he ever had, the woman who had stood by him through med school, through sleepless nights with newborns, through the chaos of two demanding careers.
And for what?
A flash of Rebecca’s smile, her laugh, the pull of nostalgia, it all felt so small now. So hollow. The affair had been like a drug. Intoxicating, dangerous, giving him a high he mistook for passion. But now? Now it was poison. He tossed the phone aside and leaned back, his head hitting the seat. The truth was sickeningly clear, Rebecca hadn’t been worth it. Nothing would ever be worth losing Ashley.
His chest tightened, panic clawing at his throat.What if she never lets me back in?The thought gutted him. He pictured Ashley’s face, the way her hands shook as she clutched his phone, the rawness in her voice when she told him to leave. He’d hurt her more deeply than he ever thought possible.
And the kids… oh God, the kids. Their little faces, so full of trust. What would they think of him when they found out? That their father had chosen lust over loyalty? That he’d betrayed not just Ashley, but them? Kingston slammed his fist against the steering wheel, the sound echoing in the night. His vision blurred with tears. He hadn’t cried in years, but now he couldn’t stop. For the first time in his life, Kingston Robert wasn’t in control. He was a man stripped bare, guilty, panicked and terrified of the future he’d just set in motion.
Inside the house, Ashley sat on the living room floor, the silence deafening. The clock on the wall ticked steadily,mocking her with its normalcy. She hugged her knees to her chest, her body rocking slightly with each shaky breath. The house felt emptier already, like Kingston’s absence had swallowed all the oxygen.
Her hands were raw from wiping away tears that wouldn’t stop falling. She hated him but beneath the anger was a deeper wound, she still loved him. That was the cruelest part of it all. Love didn’t vanish just because trust did. She thought of their wedding day. How Kingston had looked at her like she was the only woman in the world. How he had whispered promises against her ear as they danced. How he had pressed his forehead to hers in the hospital after both kids were born, exhausted but in awe.
Was any of it real?
The question tore through her, leaving her hollow. Her eyes wandered to the hallway where their children slept. They didn’t know. Not yet. She had no idea how to tell them that their father wasn’t coming home tonight. That everything they knew as safe and solid was cracking apart.
Ashley buried her face in her hands, her sobs muffled but uncontrollable. She felt broken, like someone had scooped out her insides and left nothing but ache but beneath the devastation, a quiet flame sparked, resolve. Kingston had made his choices. Now, she had to make hers. For herself. For her kids. For the life she still deserved, even if it wasn’t the one she’d imagined.
Her voice broke the silence, a whisper to no one but herself. “I’ll survive this. I have to.”
Still, when she climbed into their bed that night, the space beside her was cold and empty, and it felt like a wound that might never close.
The alarm went off at 6:30, sharp as ever. Ashley sat up in bed, blinking against the pale light spilling through the curtains. For just a fleeting moment her brain reached for habit, expecting Kingston’s arm draped over her waist, the sleepy murmur of his voice asking for five more minutes, the warmth of his body beside hers but the other side of the bed was cold. Untouched. Last night’s confrontation flooded back, and the ache in her chest tightened. She pressed a hand over her heart as if she could hold the pieces together long enough to get through the day.
The kids. She had to focus on the kids. With a deep breath, Ashley pulled herself out of bed. Her feet hit the hardwood floor, heavy, as though every step required willpower. She moved through the motions brushing her teeth, pulling her hair back, tying her robe around her waist. Everything felt mechanical, as though her body knew what to do while her mind screamed for reprieve. When she entered the kitchen, her son was already at the table, his little legs swinging under the chair as he worked on a bowl of cereal.
“Morning, Mommy,” he said brightly, milk on his upper lip.
Her daughter padded in behind him, clutching a stuffed bunny. “Daddy’s still sleeping?”
Ashley froze, the words hitting her like a dagger. She forced a smile. “Daddy had to leave early today,” she said, her voice steady though her throat burned.
The lie settled bitterly on her tongue. She poured juice, sliced fruit, buttered toast. She asked about homework and gym class, nodded at their chatter, laughed at their silly jokes. On the surface, she was the same mother she had always been but inside? Inside she was breaking apart. Everytime one of them mentioned Kingston, her chest splintered a little more. The man who used to swing them high into the air after work, who taught their son how to ride a bike, who kissed their daughter’s forehead every night, thatman was gone or maybe he had never been who she thought he was.
Her daughter tugged her sleeve. “Mommy? Are you sad?”
Ashley crouched down and cupped her little girl’s face. “No, sweetheart,” she whispered, her lips pressing against her temple. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”
When she sent them off with their backpacks, waving goodbye at the door, Ashley closed it behind them and let herself slide down against the wood. Her chest heaved with sobs she’d held back all morning. The silence of the empty house felt deafening. She wrapped her arms around herself, whispering, “You’ll be okay. You have to be okay.” But she didn’t believe it yet.
The couch creaked as Kingston shifted, his neck stiff from sleeping in the car. The dawn light streamed through the windshield, exposing the mess of himself, rumpled shirt, stubble on his jaw, dried salt tracks on his cheeks where tears had carved their way through. His phone buzzed. Rebecca. Again.
We need to talk.
Kingston turned the phone over, face-down, and pressed his palms to his eyes. He didn’t want to see her name. Didn’t want to think about her touch, her laugh, the way he’d convinced himself it meant something because in the stark light of morning, all he could see was Ashley’s face. The devastation in her eyes when she confronted him. The way her voice broke when she told him to leave. The shattering silence after the door slammed.
A hollow ache spread through his chest. He’d thought he understood guilt before when he’d kissed Rebecca that first time, when he’d slipped into her apartment, when he’d climbed back into bed beside Ashley pretending nothing had happened but guilt back then had been an itch, something he could scratch away, justify, tuck into the corners of his mind.
This was different. This was grief. He had lost her. Kingston leaned his head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling of his car as though it might hold answers. He thought of the life he and Ashley had built, the late nights studying together when they were both residents, the tiny apartment with the leaky faucet where they’d shared their first years of marriage, the way she looked holding their babies for the first time.
She had been his anchor, his safe harbor and he had set fire to it all. The thought of Rebecca made him sick now. Not because she wasn’t attractive, not because their chemistry hadn’t been real, but because he had traded something irreplaceable for something temporary. For something selfish.
And the kids. Kingston pressed his fists against his eyes until stars burst behind them. How could he face them? How could he tell them that Daddy had made the worst mistake of his life? That he’d broken Mommy’s heart?
