Chapter 2 Traits Of Betrayal

Traits of Betrayal Belying the inner suffering, the room was surprisingly warm by the golden light of the early sun coming through the blinds. Sitting at the breakfast table, my mind were whirling over the events of the night before, each one more unsettling than the last. Ever the lighthouse in my darkest hours, Charlotte reached out to ease my tense anxieties when she noticed the tightness in my shoulders. Do things seem OK to you, Jacks? Just a rough night, honey. Nothing to worry about, I responded, putting on a smile. But Charlotte was perceptive; her eyes saw through the robust front. Anything is up for discussion with me, Jacks. We shall negotiate it jointly. Her comments offered me a ray of hope in the middle of chaos. So, devastated and ashamed, I began to relate what had happened the previous evening—the threats, the messages from Lucy, the photo of Charlotte soundly sleeping next to me. As I spoke, Charlotte's features hardened and she assumed a mask of resolve. "We have to face her and end this craziness permanently. Jacks, we cannot let her to get away with this." But doubt nibbled at the edges of my mind as she spoke. An lingering shadow from my history, Lucy was a strong opponent. And she now held all the cards, her phantom of catastrophe looming over us. We can't just face her, Charlotte, I murmured, a little nervously. To us, she is unknown. But Charlotte was unflappable, her will unwavering in the face of adversity. We have to try, Jacks. For our benefit and that of our children. So, saddened and with a racing mind, we headed into the unknown, prepared for the confrontation that waited. We were unaware of the true extent of Lucy's dishonesty or the higher cost of our calculating. Only my own strained breaths broke the dense silence that fell over us as Charlotte's demands echoed. Her eyes pierced mine, seeking for answers I was hesitant to provide, information that would shatter the fragile veneer of our marriage. Charlotte questioned, her hands shaking and her voice wavering, "Why is she back, Jacks?" And what's happening with Lucy and you? Her questions weighted like a vice on me; I felt guilty and embarrassed. How could I tell the woman I loved I had betrayed her trust and succumbed to the old temptations? Charlotte is nobody," I murmured, my voice hardly audible above a mutter. "Just someone I thought I had left behind, someone from my history." But Charlotte, her eyes flashing with righteous rage, chased the facts mercilessly. Jacks, don't lie to me no matter how hard it is. Truth is something I should know." Heartbroken and full of regret, I started relating the tale of that awful night right once, of my lucky meeting with Lucy, the seduction of forbidden yearning, and my reckless abandon that caught me off guard. Feeling a lot of shame, I said, "I deceived her, Charlotte." "I made her think she meant more to me than she really did, gave her things I could never keep." Charlotte, whose features were twisted with pain and betrayal, turned from outrage to skepticism as the truth spilled out of my mouth. She was sobbing, a silent observer of our faltering faith. Passion fractured her voice, "How could you, Jacks?" Every word a slash of regret to my heart. What kind of deceit might you pull off? Nothing to say to her, no justification for what I had done. My heart hurting from my own dishonesty, I was left to lowering my head in shame. But when Charlotte sobbed across the room, a cold resolution fell over me like a blanket. Even if in the past I may have made mistakes, I wouldn't let them decide our future. I was so set, as ever, to confront Lucy and put an end to her lies. Charlotte continued to cry hysterically, every tear a monument to the pain I had caused her. But somewhere amid the agony was a great desire to learn the truth, no matter how painful it might be. Voice trembling with passion, Jacks, I have to know everything," she remarked. "I should be aware of the full extent of your treachery; don't hide the facts." Her comments sliced like a blade, bringing back wounds that I had foolishly thought had healed. How could I bear to enable the woman I loved to see the darkest recesses of my soul and to feel the humiliation of that evening? Charlotte, though, never wavered in her observation of my issues. And so, heartbroken and voice heavy with regret, I began to relate the horrible tale of my past transgressions. We met at a pub, I said nervously, attempting to muster the energy to say more. "I terribly regret a moment of weakness and a lapse in judgment." As I spoke, Charlotte's face assumed a mask of betrayal and anguish. Little more than a whisper, she asked, "And then what happened?" I took a big sip, the memories of that evening chewing at the edges of my awareness. "We...we had a one night stand." Charlotte, you have to trust me when I say that it meant nothing, I continued, every syllable a difficult pill to take. But Charlotte seemed obviously astonished, her self-esteem irreparably damaged. As she screamed, "How could you do this to me, Jacks?" the weight of her suffering destroyed her voice. "How could you betray everything we had, for a little pleasure?" I had nothing consoling to say to her, given my own conceit. All I could do, realizing I had caused irreparable damage, was hang my head in shame. But a cold resolve fell over me like a blanket when Charlotte turned her back on me, her sobs rocking her shoulders. If I was a fool once, I didn't let my mistakes define who I was. I thus made a fresh commitment to fight for the love that had once burned so brightly between us and to apologize for the pain I had caused. As Charlotte started to scream, the room went suffocatingly silent. My palm spread, a chasm of betrayal and grief between us. Trust shattered, she replied, "I need time, Jacks," in a voice hardly heard above a whisper. "A time to go over everything." Her comments hovering over the air like a dense cloud, she retreated to the seclusion of our bedroom. I lied, and the walls appeared to come in on me, echoing her suffering. But someplace in the maze of my humiliation, a voice of caution and a shiver of worry sprang to me. And then, almost as quickly as it had happened, a horrifying message alerting me to impending doom buzzed on my phone. Lucy made aggressive threats of retaliation, tinged with hate and malice. Jacks, you can't get away from me. I'll get there soon; I know where you sleep and hide." I was staring at the screen, terrified, Lucy's warning hanging over our makeshift refuge. HOW had she found us? Wanted what, really? Before I could consider the answers, a second message and a frightening image of Charlotte, defenseless in her sleep and oblivious of the danger lurking in the shadows, arrived. The enormity of Lucy's depravity struck me, and my blood raced with adrenaline. She was a threat to all I valued, to the woman whose trust I had betrayed by lying, and to myself. I was making progress because I realized how important time was. Lucy had only lately began her cunning scheme, and if I didn't act fast, there would be severe consequences. Heart hurting with regret, I shook myself ready for the storm that was about to hit, praying that none of us would be sucked into the darkness that threatened to engulf us all.