I excused myself after eating. I needed space to process everything that had happened today. My new home, a dead body, abandoned by my fiance and then discovering I wasn't even human. In just 12 brief hours, my life had been turned on its head.

Agnes's words rang in my ears. The room was hers. There were personal touches everywhere, but it felt empty, just like my heart. Why had Marcus had dumped me here, in this weird, secret-filled place?

Why? That was the question I couldn't get out of my head. Why had the person who had always been so protective, always there for me, left without a second thought? I didn't understand.

I grabbed my mobile, which had been charging on the bedside table, and called Marcus.

The phone rang and went to voicemail. My heart sank when I heard the familiar message. Where was he? What was he doing? Did he get home safely? I was scared he'd been hurt in an accident.

I sighed. Even after the way he treated me, I still wanted to make sure he was OK. I was a mess of emotions, worry, confusion, and anger.

I called his number again, half expecting it to go to voicemail again. To my surprise, he picked up on the second ring.

"Marcus?" My voice sounded tiny even to my own ears.

"Evie?" The sound of laughter and chatter drowned out the sound of his voice. He must be in a bar. My heart sank.

"I thought you'd be on your way back home," I said.

"Yeah, me too," he said. He sounded so distant. Was he angry? Or worse, indifferent?

"Why did you leave?" I mumbled into the phone.

There was a long silence on the other end of the line before he spoke again.

"Evie...I..." His voice was lost in the surrounding noise.

"Marcus?" I said, desperation creeping into my voice.

The line went dead.

I placed the phone down and threw myself on the bed. The room was silent and even emptier than before.

Why did you leave? The question still hung in the air, unanswered. I felt a lump in my throat and my heart felt heavy.

My phone buzzed on the table, the ringtone loud in the quiet room. Marcus's name flashed on the display. My heart raced. Should I answer? He had just hung up on me.

But my thumb moved of its own accord to answer the call.

"Hello?" I said.

Laughter erupted on the call, a woman's voice cutting through the sounds from the bar.

"Evie?" The woman slurred my name.

"Who is this?" I demanded, clutching the phone.

"Sorry, love," she giggled. "It's Zoe, one of Marcus's workmates."

I felt sick. Why was one of Marcus's work mates calling me from his phone?

"What do you want?" I said, more sharply than I intended.

"Marcus, he's a bit drunk," Zoe said. "He's been knocking back pints like a fish who needs water."

I felt a lump form in my throat. He was out in a bar with his colleagues, drowning his sorrows, while I was here, alone and confused.

"I just thought you should know," Zoe said. "He's not in a good way. What did you do? He'll flunk the interview tomorrow and it'll all be on you.

I gripped the phone hard, turning my knuckles white. What did she want me to do? I couldn't get to him and to be honest, I didn't know if I wanted to get to him. All those times I'd put myself out for him seemed pointless right now.

"Thanks for telling me," I managed to say.

"No problem, but I thought better of you," she said and hung up.

I looked blankly at my phone, not sure how I was supposed to respond. I felt anger at Marcus for leaving me and getting drunk instead of talking things through, fear for what this meant for our relationship, and a deep sadness because if I was honest I couldn't stay with someone who let me down like this when I needed them most.

I was in a strange village with strange rules, trying to come to terms with my new identity, while the man I loved was falling apart in a city miles away and getting drunk with one of the prettiest women he worked with.

I let my phone fall onto the bed, feeling sick. I missed him, but he had left me. For the first time in three years, I was truly alone.

My phone lit up again, vibrating across the duvet. Marcus's name flashed on the screen. I stared at it for a moment, deciding if I was prepared to answer it, deciding if my heart was strong enough to take more rejection. With a shaky breath, I picked it up and pressed it to my ear.

"Evie?" His voice was hoarse and tinged with regret.

"Marcus," I said, my voice coming out steadier than I felt. "Why did you have Zoe call me?"

"I didn't," he protested. "She took my phone. I didn't even know she'd called you until just now."

His words hung in the air, their weight pressing down on me. He sounded so earnest, so anxious.

"Don't believe what she said, Evie," he pleaded. "I have done nothing with her."

His confession hung in the silence between us, and for a moment all I could hear was his laboured breathing.

"Why did you think she would say that?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you leave me here?"

"I," he hesitated. "I didn't want to leave you. I tried to get back to you, but I couldn't."

His words tugged at my heartstrings. He sounded so sincere, so regretful, but I knew they weren't true. He had no problems passing through the barrier like I did.

"Marcus," I started, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't handle this well. I should have stayed with you."

"Why are you with Zoe, Marcus?" I asked, my voice hardening. His silence on the other end of the line spoke volumes.

"I needed someone to talk to, Evie," he said. "You weren't there."

I took a deep breath. "How is that my fault? You left me here. How much solace did you find in Zoe's company, Marcus?" I asked, my voice unsteady.

"It wasn't like that, Evie," he said.

"But how long has it been like that?" I demanded. "How long have you been more than just colleagues?"

"What? No! There's nothing going on," he said.

I wanted to believe him, but there was something in his voice. He was too defensive, too quick to deny any wrongdoing.

"Are you sure?" I asked, my heart racing.

"Evie, you've got it all wrong," he pleaded.

I wasn't listening. My head was full of doubts and suspicions. "I don't think so, Marcus," I said. "You've spent a lot of time with Zoe recently on your big project. That wasn't a work project, was it?"

"That's not true!" he said. But his denial was weak.

I didn't believe him. If there was nothing going on, why was he reacting like this? "I think we need some time apart," I said.

"What? No! How can I make it up to you? I won't let you leave me. I've done too much for you," he said.

But it was too late. I couldn't unhear what I'd heard and didn't know if I could trust him again. His words were hollow. He should have stayed, but he hadn't. He shouldn't have cheated on me, but he did.

I let out a shaky breath and pressed the end call button before he could say anything else I didn't want to hear.

I sat on the bed, staring at my phone as if it held all the answers. But it didn't. There was nothing to go back for.

***

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