After My Husband Cheated Chapter 11
The drive was a blur of unwanted conversation. “Madeline, I’ve shopped for your favorite meal. I’ll cook for you when we get back. Are you hungry?”
“Madeline, how long do you plan stay for your training? Your mom called me too. She thinks it’s time for us to have a child….”
“Adrian,” I interrupted him, cutting through his self–serving monologue. “Why drag my mom into this?”
The screech of tires against the street startled me. Adrian pulled over abruptly, the car jolting to a halt on the side of the road. “Madeline, can we not get divorced? I just wanted Mom to talk some sense to you.”
“You told my mom about our divorce?” I was genuinely angry now.
After
my
dad passed away following my marriage to Adrian, my mom had been living alone in her hometown. I had always wanted to bring her over to live with us, but Adrian had opposed it, saying it would be inconvenient.
“Madeline…” Adrian tried to bargain. “Don’t be angry. How about we invite your mom over? You must’ve missed her, right?”
“Adrian,” I stated, my voice laced with a newfound steel, “don’t you dare bringing my mom into this mess!” It was only now that I truly felt angry.
I could care less if he spent the night at Sophie’s place, but when it involved my mom, I could not control my emotions. The image of my mom, alone and worried, a victim of his manipulative tactics, was a reminder of why this relationship was untenable.
“Adrian, stop making decisions for me….”
Before I could finish, my mom called. She had heard about the divorce from Adrian and was extremely anxious. It took a while to calm her down before I could hang up. Thinking of my mom made my heart ache. I held back my tears until I hung up the phone.
I had been foolish back then, wasting years clinging to a fantasy. Just for Adrian.
“Madeline…” he stammered, his voice thick with confusion, “why are you crying?”
Adrian wanted to reach out and help me wipe my tears, but I swatted his hand with a dismissive flick of my wrist. The air inside the cabin had been too suffocating. I opened the door and got out of the
car.
“Madeline, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, okay?” Adrian scrambled out after me. “It’s fine if you don’t want mom to come over. Just don’t leave.” He tried to grab my hand again, but I shook him off. Frowning deeply, he snapped, “Madeline! What do you want? I told you not to go but you insisted to come to this city. Do you know I quit my job to come find you? Enough is enough. I’ve apologized. Can you stop making a scene?”
He remained self–centered, still believing the fault lay with me, not him. Talking with him held no purpose. Wiping away the tears that streamed down my face, I continued walking.
Adrian, however, refused to relinquish his hold. He caught up and grabbed my arm again “Madeline…”
His strength was overwhelming, and after several attempts to shake him off, I finally could not help but shout, “Adrian, let go! Let go of me!”
The plea fell on deaf ears. He still held on to me. “Madeline, where are you going? Come back with me….”
Before I could respond, a firm hand clamped onto Adrian’s arm. The unexpected intervention startled me, my gaze instinctively snapping upwards. “Didn’t you hear her?” The voice, a low rumble, emanated from a figure standing beside me. A flicker of recognition washed over me.
Tyler?
