Chapter 2. Broken Promises

Alexander’s POV

I sit in my office, my gaze fixed through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows, beyond which the cityscape stretches out in a mosaic of bustling life.

It gnawed at me, a memory from my upbringing that I think is affecting my relationship with Isabel.

While growing up, I always saw my mum, Sabrina, command my father, Williams, to do whatever she wanted because she was making more money than he was. And I had thought that’s the norm.

Having more money than your partner in marriage means you call the shots. 

You’re in control of whatever goes on or happens in your home. 

Why would Isabel think I love her less simply because I commented on her dress?  

I worked hard proving to my mother that I’m capable of running the company and making lots of money, so I won’t have to be like my dad when I'm married.

Gosh! 

I pace my office, running my hands through my hair. 

I hate it when Isabel gives me those looks, with her shimmering silver gray eyes, which send down a cold shiver down my spine.

“Alexander, the meeting is about to start,” Susan, my assistant, said, jolting me out of my thoughts.

Susan has always got my back.

“Okay, will be there in a jiffy,” I replied.

The meeting doesn't seem to be ending, as I keep having flashbacks to what happened that day. 

The look in Isabel’s eyes when she asked me that question. 

“Alexander, what’s your say about the proposal?” Susan asked, bringing my mind back to the meeting.

“Uh, yes… sure,” I mumbled, with a distant look in my eyes. My words came out slowly as if I was waking up from a dream. It was clear to everyone that my mind had been elsewhere, lost in a world only I could see.

At this moment, my phone buzzes with a text.

Message from a restricted number, “Do you know where your wife is, and who she’s currently with?”

I glared intrusively, as if trying to process the text I just got.

Who the hell is this?

My jaw dropped.

I stilled for a moment, my phone almost slipping from my trembling hand. My mind became a chaotic storm of disbelief and denial, struggling to comprehend the barrage of messages.

Paralyzed by the onslaught of emotions, I scroll through photos sent to my phone. 

The pictures show how happy she is; her smile is as wide as the first time we went on a date. She seems so happy, like I have seen her in the past few months.

Looking at the photos, one would think they had already gotten themselves a room. “Wait, what! What if that’s what’s going to happen? Or has it already happened?” I thought to myself, giving off an annoying facial expression.

“No, that can’t be, Isabel isn’t like that”, I reply to myself with a comforting hand clinch.

But recently she’s been giving a ‘I’m already tired of us’ vibe. What if she has decided to really give up and be with another guy? Another thought came in, making me clench my fingers tightly between my palms. 

I tried zooming, but couldn't see the guy’s face.

Ranging, as cold sweats trickled down my forehead, blurring my vision and making the familiar surrounding seem distant and surreal.

“Alexander, are you okay?” Susan asked, her voice etched with concern.

“I’m okay,” I lied, but my expression gave me away.

“You're all sweaty and nervous. Now, that’s not okay,”

Truth be told, I feel hot, even though the boardroom is as cold as ice.

I noticed all eyes were on me. It's obvious how much my mood changed, like a flip.

I stared at them blankly.

But quickly, I recovered.

“Let’s call it a day,” I said, dropping the project folder on the table. “I’ll be leaving the office on time today.

If anything comes up in my absence, email it to me.” I say, looking directly at Susan.

Directly asking her for help, so things don’t look more weird than they already are.

She nods, a clear hint of understanding flickers in her eyes.

“Oh yes… sure, Alexander,” Susan replied.

I excused myself from the boardroom, trying to really understand the context of the text and the photo, even though I don't know who sent the message.

***

It’s 10 PM, and Isabel isn’t home yet.

I have dialed her number several times, and she’s not responding.

What could she be doing by this time, so late at night?

Could she be really…. No, no, I said to myself, clenching my teeth together.

I’m thinking this too much. 

She’s probably with her friend and nothing more. I say, trying to keep my thoughts in order. 

She’s never been this late home, ever since we got married, even if she’s out with her friend, Cynthia.

Oh yes! Cyn..thia! 

I mumbled.

I should call Cynthia’s home to find out. 

Her friend, Cynthia Castillo, is the daughter of a rich billionaire business mogul, and her father is a close family friend of ours, too.

I can definitely call their home landline to talk to anyone at home.

Just when I was about to dial the Castillos’ mansion, my phone buzzed with texts.

Surprise, as it is also from the same restricted number I received earlier in the day.

I hurriedly opened it to see the messages.

My jaw dropped.

Photos of Isabel and a guy in bed.

I squint my eyes, looking down at the barrage of photos sent to me.

My jaw tightened to the point of aching, a deep furrow forming between his brows.

The guy is in his mid-thirties and has a broad chest. 

Isabel was deep in sleep, and her head lay on his bare chest.

I clenched my fist.

My brows slightly furrowed, as if deep in contemplation.

I can’t believe Isabel slept out with another man on the night before our anniversary.

I have thought about trying my best to work on my habits, because I still love Isabel and want to save our marriage.

But I guess it’s not the same with my wife, Isabel.

My eyes are welling with tears.

Memories of our once-happy home flicker through my mind. 

Now the home isn't the same anymore.

A mix of fury and betrayal surged through me.

I had drafted out divorce papers as I was sick of her constant complaints. Thinking maybe she’s also tired of our marriage, but didn’t have the balls to serve it to Isabel yet.

But after seeing the explicit nature of these photos, my decision to try to change and save our marriage has changed. Gosh! I can’t believe I almost thought our marriage could work. 

I growl, shrugging into the couch.

If Isabel doesn’t want me anymore, then there’s no point trying to keep what’s already broken.

It’s time to end this chapter of my life.

I’m going to divorce Isabel. I say with a tight fist.