Chapter 3 Big Nicole

I stood exactly where he had left me, unmoving, my eyes fixed on the space he had just occupied as if he might walk back in and undo it all. 

Two years of my life, I had given him two years of my life in dating and two more in marriage. Oh, silly me. That is four years wasted, four years wasted in loving and caring for a complete narcissist while tossing my own dreams and ambitions away.

The silence that followed was louder than the argument itself. Everything felt suffocating and pressing in from every corner of the room. My chest tightened slowly at first, then all at once, like something inside me had finally given way.

My knees buckled before I even realized I was falling. I barely caught myself on the edge of the couch, my fingers gripping the fabric as my breathing turned uneven and shallow. 

A broken sound tore from my throat, that was the first time I cried loud that day. He didn’t just cheat on me with any random woman, it was Nyla Reeds. She was his social media and marketing manager. She was the same woman we had spent some nights laughing and making fun of. 

She wore too much makeup, she dressed like she owned the company, she strode to his office when he called her in. Now that I thought of it, it was because he was banging her all the while. She didn’t need to own the office to be able to carry herself that way. She was sleeping with the owner so she had that privilege.

My shoulders shook violently as everything I had been holding spilled out at once, the humiliation, the disbelief and the aching realization that he hadn’t even fought for me. How low could he be? He told her everything— the way I moaned when he didn’t satisfy me, the way I begged him for basic things like sex. 

Together, they laughed at my size. They called me ‘big Nicole’. I pressed my hand against my mouth, but it didn’t stop the sobs. It only muffled them, turning them into something more desperate. 

Why were the lines of love so thin? I gave up everything at his wish. I gave up my entire life to support him. He started his company with my inheritance and now, he dared humiliate me like this? 

The room blurred and memories began to flash without mercy. I remembered the laughter in that same space, quiet dinners, the way I used to wait for him, the way I used to believe in them. All of it felt like it belonged to someone else now. Maybe they were never mine.

The simple things I begged him for, he made sure he gave Nyla with ease. I was the third wheel to their love. He had coped with me just out of pity, out of the money I gave him when we had just started dating.

Realizing it now made my stomach turn. I bought his love, I bought sex from this man whom I called husband. Had it not been for that money, he probably wouldn’t have married me. 

He used to defend me before his family and especially Melanie. But along the line, he got tired and told me to put up with whatever they did to me. He asked me to tolerate the disrespect because they were his family. I should have seen the signs, they were visible.

My throat burned, my eyes swelled and my head pounded. I sat there for a long moment, staring ahead, numb now instead of shattered. Then, slowly, I stood up. My steps were unsteady as I made my way to the kitchen.

My movement was detached, I reached the cabinet without thinking, pulled it open, and grabbed the first bottle my hand touched. It was Tuscans red, his favorite. I don’t bother for a glass. I lifted the bottle straight to my lips, taking a long, unmeasured drink. 

I couldn’t even feel the taste of the wine, but it burned on the way down and that felt awfully good. I swallowed again and again until my chest warmed and my thoughts dulled. I was able to breathe again without it hurting so much. That was when I reached for a glass and strode aimlessly back to the sitting room. 

I sank onto the floor this time, my back against the couch and my  legs drawn in slightly as I stared at nothing. The house didn’t feel like home anymore. It was never home, I was just so blind to see it then. 

I took another sip, my tears had stopped but my eyes still stung. The wine softened the edges of everything, but it couldn’t erase the truth sitting quietly in my chest. He had left, he chose her with a degree of certainty I never knew he had. 

I let my head fall back against the couch, loosening my  grip slightly around the glass. He didn’t deserve my tears. A bitter laugh slipped out of me, it was quiet and hollow. It didn’t come from amusement but from the edge of realization.

I lifted the glass again, staring at the deep red liquid like it held answers I hadn’t been ready to face before tonight. How long had I been shrinking myself for him? How long had I been so gullible that a man played me so well? 

The questions settled heavily in my chest. I took a slow sip this time, letting the burn linger. My eyes drifted around the room, the same room I had once filled with warmth, with effort and with pieces of myself I had offered so freely. 

Now it just looked… empty. Not because the furniture was gone. Not because anything had changed physically, but because I could see it for what it truly was. I had been slowly disappearing in this place without even knowing. 

My fingers tightened around the glass again. I remembered every time I had convinced myself that love meant patience, meant understanding, meant waiting for him to come back to me in ways that mattered.

God, I had been so careful, so accommodating and so… replaceable. I leaned forward slowly, placing the glass on the table with more control than I expected from myself. My hands were still trembling, but not as much as before.