The gown Adrian had once chosen for her with his own hands slid to the floor,leaving her standing in nothing but her undergarments,her body shaking.
The chill of the air wrapped around her,but it was nothing compared to the ice inside her heart.
She remembered the day he had bought this dress,whispering in her ear:
“Clara,you look most beautiful in white.Like my bride.”
And now,in her own home,she was stripped of dignity like some mistress caught in the act,driven out the door.
Clara bent down to pick up the fallen dress.
“Don’t touch it!”
Vanessa’s sharp voice rang out.“That’s mine now!”
Clara’s hand froze in midair.
She cast one last look at Snowball,still hanging high above,its cries weak and broken.The pain in her chest was so sharp it almost convulsed.
Straightening her back that felt close to breaking,Clara refused to look again at the pair embracing on the sofa.Barefoot,she stepped over the cold tiles and the shards of broken porcelain,one step at a time,toward the open door.
Behind her came Vanessa’s triumphant laugh and Adrian’s low murmur of appeasement—sounds that crushed the last fragments of Clara’s love and warmth into dust.
She had nothing left.
And now she was certain—she would not regret it.
In six days,she would be free of this faithless man forever!
In the small hours of the morning,Clara walked barefoot,wearing nothing but her underwear,along the icy streets of early autumn.
The streetlights stretched her shadow long;passing headlights swept over her pale,vacant face and bare skin,drawing a few ambiguous whistles and prying glances.
She didn’t notice.She only felt numb—desperate to escape.
At last she saw a small,reasonably clean-looking motel.It felt like a lifeline.Staggering,she stepped inside.
Behind the counter,a middle-aged woman dozed.Startled awake,she looked Clara up and down,suspicion flickering in her eyes.
“One room,”Clara rasped.Her voice was hoarse,almost soundless.
The woman curled her lip and slid over a registration form.“ID.Five-hundred cash deposit.”
Clara reached instinctively for her bag and found nothing.
Only then did she remember—her purse,her phone,everything—left behind in that villa.
She had nothing on her but the humiliating scraps of underwear she wore.
The color drained from her face.She forced out the words:“I…I don’t have cash or my phone.Could I—”