Chapter 2I Can’t Handle His Love

It was past five in the morning when Nathan, bailed out by someone else, finally showed up at my door.

He hammered on the door, shouting that he wouldn't divorce me. He broke a window pane to let himself in, bringing with him the cloying scent of Sophia’s gardenia perfume.

“Clara, I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please, forgive me.” He reeked of alcohol and tried to touch me, to pull me into an embrace. He had no idea that the thick perfume clinging to him made me want to retch.

I grabbed his wandering hands and threatened to call the police.

His attitude soured instantly. “What’s the problem? We’ve been married for five years. What’s one more time?”

“Clara, don’t forget, you were the one who said you didn’t mind that I had an ex. Now you’re going back on your word. You women are such fickle creatures.”

Sensing he’d gone too far, he softened his tone. “I already apologized for what happened at the station. Can we please just stop fighting?”

He reached for the sash of my robe.

“I said, get out. If you don’t leave now, I’m calling the cops.”

This was the small apartment I had bought before we were married. I have no idea how he even found this place.

I could feel his anger building behind me, a familiar storm I had weathered too many times.

I took him by surprise, grabbing a knife from the kitchen block. When I brandished it with a look of pure disgust and told him to get the hell out, his phone rang.

He glanced at the caller ID, and a look of urgency crossed his face. He quickly tried to placate me one last time before stepping out to take the call.

I knew who it was. Who else would he be so eager to talk to in the middle of the night?

I could hear his voice from the hallway, laced with laughter and the soft, sweet tones he used to use with me, back when we were first in love.

Tears streamed down my face as I tried to block it all out.

I didn’t stay in the apartment. I checked into a nearby hotel.