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The Replaced Lover's Thirty-Day Silent Escape

Chapter 7 

Word Count: 800    |    Released on: Today at 16:16

ia's

ke a cab st

ght a ten-dollar solo ticket, and wandered alon

ted a familiar black Au

ken Blake to the

er into a nearby di

right diner window, h

colate, her cat-ear

e, there was a tin

ing. "You just ran off with me like that. Won't

lp of black coffee,

he said, waving a

up together. And she loves me to death. She w

e?" Blake ti

gets tired

a short, dis

ork. Her whole world revolves around me. By the

g to his arrogant certainty, a col

around them until the room is completel

dow, pulled my collar up to cover

ng, Damian came bac

o Italian restaurant-truffle pasta, red wine brais

ritual for

icked, he liked to drown h

out bags on the kitchen counter

pasta from Il Buco. Sit down.

, watching him pour the red

knee?" I aske

y. A drop of ruby-red wine spl

tor treated it. Then I drove her

me and pushed the w

's go to Paris for Christmas, just the two

ri

ally taking

lmost absurd en

ng, Damian," I said, twirling

I was being

see the Louvre and the Musée d'Orsay.

s phone on the table sta

the screen a

ation, he hit

cked voice exploded in

itch black in here, and the hallway smells like b

he knocked over his wine glass. The deep re

ven glance

ing superintendent?" he

n, there's strange banging

said, grabbing his car k

his eyes wide wit

on fire. I have to go. Eat the pa

leaning back in my

ur time.

ike an arrow, the lock s

ed wine spreading across t

expensive bite of truffle pasta, drank the iced

Blake's socia

a spotless wooden table, a vanilla scented cand

power outag

r her dog, who came running as

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The Replaced Lover's Thirty-Day Silent Escape
The Replaced Lover's Thirty-Day Silent Escape
“Four years. I poured the best years of my youth and every ounce of my heart into my boyfriend Damian, becoming the perfect live-in girlfriend. But when his childhood sweetheart, the woman he'd always carried a torch for, returned from London, he gave her every bit of his care and affection. On my birthday, just because his sweetheart liked mangoes, he ordered a mango cake despite my severe allergy. When the sweetheart faked concern for me, he said casually: "Amelia's just my housekeeper. She's sensible. She won't make a scene." That was when I woke up. I was nothing but a substitute, a bed-warmer to fill the years she'd been away. This time, I didn't cry. I didn't make a scene. I didn't beg for his attention the way I'd done so many times before. I started a thirty-day countdown. "Damian, it's time to say goodbye."”