BREAKING POINT

Michelle's pov

By the time I reached Golden Cove's lobby, I was already second-guessing myself. This could easily be Beatrice pulling a prank, but every time my resolve threatened to dissolve into emptiness

Then I reminded myself yet again that I was not here because I took my annoying mother-in-law's words to heart.

I've had a suspicion for months now.

Maybe even years.

He'd changed.

Not overnight, it happened gradually... Like water trickling out of a broken vessel.

He stopped kissing me good morning and stopped asking how my night went. There was no more breakfast in bed.

Yeah, it started from the little things.

Then slowly, it was him forgetting my big occasions, raising his voice at me, coming back home from the office while pretending he didn't smell like booze, women's perfume, and bad decisions.

We had several conversations–some of them arguments–I told him I wanted to go back to the time when he loved me and showed it.

I missed the man that I met working afternoon shifts at the coffee shop when I was eighteen.

He showed up every day by eleven, he'd make the same order–black coffee and a chocolate muffin-his eyes never left me while he was there, and I'd often come over to see his cup at least still half full. His subtle way of telling me that he was coming here for more than just the coffee.

One sunny afternoon I got courageous and I did something out of character. I wrote my number on a tissue, pressed my lips on it, and shyly handed it over to him along with his coffee.

He finished his coffee that day.

I was worried, thinking things would get awkward between us all or he would never show up again. He was well-groomed and put together but anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell that there was a huge age gap between us, how big it was was what I didn't know.

He didn't show up for a week afterwards.

That week was torture, I'd lift my head every time the bell at the entrance dinged. My heart was sleeping with hope, only for it to come crashing down when it was just another random customer.

Soon my expectation began to wane, and I was beginning to accept that maybe I had ruined a good thing before it could even start.

That night, I was getting ready for bed and also to put my one-sided feelings to rest.

That was when I got his text at 10:00

'You up?"

Those two words changed the trajectory of my life.

Regular texts with him became the highlight of every day for me, it made endless shifts bearable, even the bruises I got from my drunk Dad hardly hurt that much when his name lit up my phone.

We got to talking more intimately after a while.

He was going to be forty in a month or so.

He asked if that bothered me.

I'll admit, at first it did, but he always told me that I was so mature for my age and I wasn't like other reckless 18-year-olds. It made me feel good, like I was no longer the little girl who was getting beaten down and humiliated every day by her own father.

Our relationship progressed and after going through some struggles he popped the question and I was more than happy to say yes.

I lived like a princess in the first years of our marriage, waited on hand and foot. Back then when the results came back negative, he'd book me a vacation to unwind. If I had a headache he would leave his million-dollar company just to remain by my side and cuddle me all day. He showed me off like a trophy, a prize he was happy and lucky to win.

Back then even if his mom disapproved of me she never tried anything funny.

Now things were clearly different.

And I wanted to know why.

Why did he never look at me with the same loving affection as he used to do in the past why was I suddenly no longer welcome? Why were all those grandiose acts of love in the past?

And when I reached room 102 I saw it.

Or rather on the carpeted hallway.

Elliot, my husband, my first and only love had his hand intimately wrapped around another woman's waist. He whispered something in her ear, and she laughed way too loudly, leaning towards him with a broad smile. When they got closer I noticed that the woman was not a stranger, beyond the hair extensions, makeup up and designer clothes I recognized her.

Natasha Grey

A college dropout who was my cleaner a couple of months back, I paid her extra because she was friendly and bubbly. I didn't have any friends anymore because none of them supported my relationship with Elliot so I cut them off.

Maybe I should have listened.

Natasha had quit a few weeks back, told me that she was going back to college. But from the looks of things she had already graduated from the uni of home wrecking.

They were so absorbed in each other that they didn't even notice me until we were about 10 ft apart, that was when Natasha saw me, she didn't look ashamed. Not one bit, in fact she cozied herself closer to my husband, a triumphant smirk plastered on her face.

How could they?!

"Michelle?" Elliot called out confusion clouding his tone."What are you doing here?"

"Is that all you have to say to me?" I said as the tears started pouring down my face, there he stood with an apology not even an explanation. Just asking that ridiculous question like I was the one who had been caught cheating.

The anger didn't allow me to think I marched over to him and slapped him right across the face.

"B*sterd!" I hissed then turned to leave rushing into the empty elevator before I could completely shatter.