Ali was finding it difficult to breathe. There was a roaring sound in her ears and her mouth was dry. Her face wasn't. It was wet. She was crying. Again.

There was a horrible pain in her chest. Her heart was breaking. She had just caught Sam cheating on her.

Sam.

Cheating.

It was practically impossible to imagine. But she didn't have to imagine it. She had seen it with her own eyes. In living colour. Sam, stumbling half-naked out of the bedroom. Victoria's bedroom. Victoria in that ludicrous hot pink number, faking shock at being caught.

This whole thing had been a rouse. That vile woman had purposely lured Ali here to find them in the act. To out Sam. To flaunt she had slept with Ali's man. Victoria's eyes had gleamed with smugness when Ali had looked at her before Ali's self-preservation had kicked in.

Her mind screamed "Run, Run," and Ali's feet had followed automatically, pushing her way out the door and into the cold winter night. When she got to her car Ali had to lean against it for a moment, trying not to throw up.

The pain ripped through her. She had no defence against it. Sam had melted her protective shield away, convincing Ali with his kind heart and professions of love she didn't need it anymore. Ali had trusted Sam. She had been played for a fool. Again.

And now Sam stood before her, first apologizing for it. Then taking it back and saying it wasn't what it looked like. Oh, Ali knew better. She had been here before. When she had walked in on Jack cheating on her. Images of that woman sprawled across Jack's desk blurred into thoughts of Sam and Victoria.

Ali stamped the ground in frustration. Was she destined to always fall for men who would eventually betray her? Was there something wrong with her?

No. This was not her fault. If Sam was cheating, that was on him.

If.

A voice in the back of Ali's head begged her to notice something. To look at Sam. She didn't want to do it. To see his face dripping in guilt. Her heart said flee, getaway and never look back.

It was what she always did. Avoid the pain. Look away.

Ali took a step away from Sam. Her legs wobbled, threatening to betray her. What was she going to do? She considered her options. She could walk away ... the thought caused another fissure of pain to rattle through her causing her to grip onto the car for support. What other option did she have?

Something settled in Ali with the thought. She could stay and ... what? Scream at Sam? Make him feel as bad as she did? Fight this feeling of helplessness? She felt a tad calmer. She didn't have to scurry away.

Ali could stay and fight.

Dragging her eyes away from her reflection in the car window, Ali forced herself to meet Sam's eyes.

Even in the weak light from the streetlamps, Ali could tell they looked wrong. His pupils were glossy black saucers, barely rimmed by his normally green irises. Before she could stop herself, she was asking. "Sam? What's wrong."

He just stared at her, not answering. It was like he was dazed, not really there. Then his brain seemed to kick into gear and those black pools focused on her.

"Ali, please. Help me," he pleaded.

A lump rose in Ali's throat. She tried to swallow, but it hurt. Sam was looking at her like she was the one with all the answers. There was honesty in his appeal for support. She needed to know what was happening as well.

Taking a moment to steady herself, Ali gathered what remaining fortitude she had left. Then she examined Sam, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle before her into some semblance of a picture that made sense.

Sam was not himself. He seemed drunk. No, that wasn't it. Ali had seen him inebriated before and this was different. When Sam drank he became silly, kinda like a little boy in a candy store. He delighted in everything, inhaled happiness and exhaled laughter. This was not the Sam she saw before her.

She leaned in a little closer. Sam was sombre, confused, worried. That little dent in his forehead that appeared when he was upset was now a crater. Of course, he had just been caught cheating so he had a reason to be upset. 

 No, Ali pushed the thought aside. She focused on Sam. He was swaying before her and rubbing his eyes like he was trying to wake himself up.

"Sam. I want you to concentrate." He looked intently at her like his life depended on it. A shiver ran down Ali's spine. He really didn't know what was going on. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"You."

Despite their present predicament, Ali had to suppress a smile. It was such a Sam thing to say. "What about me?"

A cloud of pain filtered across Sam's face. He looked away for a moment. When his eyes returned to hers, he seemed to have recovered. "Talking to you on the phone." Then he shook his head. "No, texting you. After I talked to Cruz. I...felt ...I needed to see you."

"Okay, what happened next. Did you get my text?"

Sam looked confused again.

"Any of my texts?"

"You texted me back? I...I didn't get them. I don't think." Sam patted down his jeans pocket, looking for his something. "Where's my phone?

Ali rubbed her forehead. The headache from earlier was threatening to make a return. "I don't know Sam," she whispered. "Where did you leave it?"

Sam was staring at her blankly again. "Sorry, what were we talking about."

"You texted me. Were you still at the bar?"

"Yes. But I wasn't drinking." Sam was rushing his words as if he had found something he could explain. "I was at the bar because Cruz needed to talk. He wanted to meet there, not me. I was only drinking ginger ale." Sam stopped suddenly.

"What? What is it, Sam?"

He licked his lips, glanced at the house for a few heartbeats. "I never intended to have a drink. But Vicky..." Sam lifted his hand as if to reach out to Ali, but stopped halfway, his hand frozen in place. "Vicky...she showed up and insisted. It was her birthday and ....and its....and its tradition to do a shot. I swear I only had the one. I was leaving, I was going to the hotel. To find you. To talk to you."

Ali fought back the next wave of tears. So, he was drinking. As if he could read her mind, Sam spoke again. "Ali, you have to believe me, I only had the one drink. I was on my way to you."

"But you didn't make it."

"No," Sam agreed in defeat. "I guess not."

"Did you leave with Victoria?"

Sam hesitated. "I don't remember leaving the bar."

"What do you remember?"

Sam looked around the ground like it would spring up with answers for him. "I...I can't remember anything past that drink. Just flashes of...movement...in a cab maybe." He ran his fingers through his ruffled hair. "Why can't I remember anything?"

Ali felt bile rise against the back of her throat. A theory was emerging, but she didn't even want to contemplate it. Turning she stared at the grey brick house before her, contemplating its lone occupant. Ali had always had a bad feeling about Victoria but she had put it down to jealousy, being Sam's ex-girlfriend. She was beginning to suspect there was a very good reason to not like Victoria.

It was Ali's turn to study the ground, trying to find something to focus on. Her eyes caught sight of bright pink fuzzy slippers. They were attached to Sam's feet.

Looking up at Sam, Ali demanded, "Where are your shoes?"

"I...I don't know. Somewhere back there I guess. I couldn't find them."

Along with a few other important items, thought Ali.

"You need to get them."

"I only need you." Sam started to reach for Ali again and this time she let him touch her. His hand was freezing against her cheek. "I don't want anything from back there."

Ali swallowed. Grabbing his hand, she pulled Sam back towards the house. "But there is something I want."