Page 109 of The Accidental Wife

Cole

It’s beenover a week since Shayla and I parted ways again. I thought walking away from her before was hard, it’s even harder now I’ve realised I’m in love with her. I can’t believe what a mess I’ve made of everything. I’ve lost her. Every single night I jump out of my sleep to the sound of her anguished sobs. Watching her shed a tear was always tough for me, but hearing such despair and suffering in her cry still haunts me. I don’t know what I was thinking, keeping the engagement from her. If I just told her from the beginning, she would be with me right now, but I was worried about her reaction, and instead, she got blindsided entirely and thought I was lying to her—which I wasn’t. Christ, I’m a mess, and I’ve never felt so low in my life.

As hard as it is to admit to myself, Aimee was right with what she said. After hearing Shayla sobbing and the look of defeat in her eyes, when I saw her that day in her apartment, I made a promise to myself to leave her alone. What right do I have to keep hurting her? Even though it was killing me and I wanted to be with her, I had to do what was right and let her be free. She deserves so much better, and she’s the last person in the world I would ever want to hurt intentionally.

I remember coming home after leaving her apartment that day. Sophie was at my place, and she’d had a romantic candlelit dinner prepared to celebrate our engagement. “Hi baby, welcome ho—” She stops when she sees the state of me. Completely soaked, eyes rimmed red from crying and angry. “Tristan? What on earth is this state of you? What happened?” I threw my bag on the floor and glared at her.

“Did you go public with our engagement?” I question, glaring at her. Sophie looks at me and shrugs.

“Well, yeah, I only posted a photo of my ring on Instagram, and it blew up.” I close my eyes and clench my jaw tight to keep calm.

“And the photographers at the airstrip? Did you tell them where to find me?” I ask again, and Sophie looks at me.

“No. I—”

“Don’t lie to me!” I bark, and she jumps startled and drops her gaze. “Of course, you fucking sent them. Otherwise, how would they know where and what time I would be arriving, right?” I hiss, pacing back and forth. I rub my jaw in agitation.

“Tris, what’s the big deal? So what if people know we’re engaged?” She questions, watching me pace and forth in the living room.

“What’s the big deal?! We got engaged not even four days ago, Sophie! I haven’t even had time to adjust to it, and you go and tell the fucking world!” I roar angrily, swiping the wine glass off the table, and it smashes on the floor. “What is it with you and your obsession with telling the whole fucking world our business Sophie?! Why can’t we have one fucking private moment for us, just fucking one!” I shout angrily, kicking the chair.

“Baby, I didn’t think—”

“No! You didn’t think, and that’s the problem Sophie, you don’t think about anyone but yourself! What was the fucking need to go and post about our private life on your social media? I’ve told you a million times I want my private life to stay private, and our engagement was supposed to be private, for just us!” I scream at her, not even caring that her eyes well up.

“Tristan, I’m so sorry if I had known you’d be this angry, I would have never—”

I shake my head, “Yes, you would have because that’s you all over, isn’t it, Soph. You don’t give a toss about what I think or how I feel as long your socialite friends have juicy gossip to fucking feast on.” I retort, irritated. “You didn’t even have the decency to warn me, so I’d be prepared, no you just completely blindsided me. Shayla was with me for fucksake; the poor girl didn’t know what to do with herself with all the cameras flashing in her face!” I add, taking off my jacket and throwing it on the floor.

“Shayla? Are you standing there chewing me out over your ex-wife? Who cares about her!”

“I DO!” I roar livid. “I fucking care about her! I hadn’t even told her about the engagement yet, and she finds out from the paparazzi. How do you think she felt standing there as my ex-wife hearing that I was engaged to another woman three months after we get divorced?! She was humiliated, and so was I! Are you seriously that dense, Sophie? Do you not have an ounce of empathy as a woman yourself to how she would have felt, Jesus Christ!”

“Why would I care how she feels? She wouldn’t give a toss if the shoe were on the other foot and she was marrying you.” She argues back, placing her hands on her hips and scowling at me.

“She was married to me! How many fucking times did you see her share anything about our private life on her social media? Never! You know why because she understands that somethings are supposed to be private, and she had some sense and enough respect for me and our relationship to keep shit out of the public and not go screaming about everything we did.”

“I’m not Shayla, Tristan!”

“No, you aren’t!” I shout hotly, taking my wet shirt off and walking to my bedroom. “Did you even stop for a second to think what the papers would write when they see Shayla, and I walk out of the plane together or did your brain not consider that little detail? She doesn’t want to be in the public eye Sophie, and I was doing everything in my power to make sure it stays that way.”

“Oh, my God. I am so sick of hearing about her! What about me, Tristan?! I’m your fiancée. Me! I’ve prepared a surprise meal for you so we could celebrate our engagement, and you haven’t even acknowledged it.” She argues, following me into my bedroom.

“When you do something worth acknowledging, I will. I’m not in the mood to celebrate shit with you right now. In fact, you’re the last person I want to see Sophie, just go home.” I hiss bleakly, not even bothering to look at her.

“Are you serious? You are kicking me out. For what?” She questions, gaping at me, and I rub the back of my neck.

“For what?! Have you not been listening to a fucking word I’ve been saying to you?!” I turn and bellow in her face. She looks at me; her blue eyes pooled with tears. “You know what, fuck this whole thing. I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what, Tristan?”

“This. Us. I can’t do it,” I admit and watch as tears stream down her cheeks. “I thought this was what I wanted, but it’s not Sophie. It’s just not the same.”

“You’re breaking up with me for sharing my happiness over us getting engaged? Are you serious?” She cries, and I sigh, closing my eyes. She’s just not fucking getting it.

“No, Sophie, we’re breaking up because of your complete disregard for my privacy and your lack of empathy for the people around you. Thanks to you, I’ll be hounded by the press for months now about when we’re getting married, and I don't need that shit on top of all the pressure I’m already under at work.” I explain bitingly.

“Tristan, you’re blowing this way out of proportion. This can't just be about me going public.” She sniffles, raising her distraught gaze to mine. “You're using this press thing as an excuse to back out of the engagement, aren’t you?”

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