Chapter 5

• Ayla POV
• The flat smells just like him, I hold in the tears that sting my eyes as I picture all the times I’ve enjoyed this very smell as he held me in his strong arms. I walked further in spotting an empty coffee cup on the side, he never did wash his morning coffee cup. The sofa is back to normal now, all the cushions are back in place where they belong, but all I can see when I look at the fluffy cushions is Marcus and that woman, writhing around on the sofa whilst I stupidly believed he was loyal to me. I turn and head into the bedroom unable to stay any longer in the living room, but this room holds just as much pain, now I can see that woman’s grinning face, her lipstick mark on Marcus' skin, her branding and claiming him as hers, I could hear their moans of pleasure bouncing around in my head. My heart was broken, I had entrusted it to him and he stomped on it as if it was nothing. I moved across the room, bending down to reach under the bed, noting the crumpled sheets. This is the bed I shared with him, the bed he made love to me in, and now it feels cold and empty. A chill ran down my spine and I felt a filth coating my skin. How could he make me feel this way, so cheap and dirty? I grabbed one of the duffle bags from under his bed and swiftly moved across the room to the wardrobe and began to grab some of my things. I didn’t want to spend unnecessary time here, so I rolled my clothes up and shoved them into the bag when his voice broke the silence, making all the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
• “Ayla, please don’t do this.” He croaked as he walked into the bedroom.
• My body froze, I hadn’t heard him come into the flat, I had been too absorbed in my own self-pity. I heard his footsteps getting closer so I quickly spun around, not wanting to have my back to him. He placed his hand on my arm, but his touch felt foreign to me. I used to crave his touch, it brought me safety and pleasure, now it only brought me pain. I stepped back making him drop his arm and moved past him to the drawers and grabbed some of my underwear.
• “I’m sorry, I thought you would be at work. I just need a few things.” I say to fill the tense silence that is beginning to suffocate me.
• I can feel his eyes watching my every move, it’s like they’re burning a hole into the back of my head.
• “I saw your car parked round the corner so I came back. I’m glad you came back, Ayla. I’m sorry.”
• I hold my hand up, stopping him from talking anymore.
• “I don’t want to hear it, Marcus.”
• My throat hurts as I fight to hold back the tears, but I refuse to cry in front of him.
• “Ayla please, I love you.”
• Those words again. Hearing them makes my skin crawl, how could he stand there and say he loved me when he was just with another woman? The room began to feel small, like the walls were closing in on me. I needed to get out of here, now.
• “I will send someone to collect the rest of my things in a few days once I’m settled.”
• “Where are you going?” He asked.
• I grabbed the bag and threw it over my shoulder, ignoring his question.
• “Ayla, where are you going? Please just stay and talk to me.”
• “Please don’t call me. I need some space. Goodbye, Marcus.”
• I went to walk out of the room, but he moved past me, slamming his hand against the door, and locking me in the room.
• “Marcus, let me out,” I asked, my voice sounding firm and surprisingly authoritative.
• “Please just hear me out.”
• “No. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. Not anymore.”
• I pushed Marcus out of the way with my body whilst I pulled the door open. I walked out of the room as fast as I could but I could hear his feet hitting the floorboards behind me. I yanked the front door open, just as the metal death cage dinged and the lady who lives a few doors down walked on, smiling at me as she turned. As much as I hated elevators this was my chance to get away from Marcus. I sprinted forward, slipping into the doom box, seeing Marcus’s pained expression as the door closed before he could reach me.
• “Are you going somewhere nice dear?” The sweet lady asked.
• I let out the breath I had been holding and looked down at the bag over my shoulder.
• “I’m going home.”