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too have felt over these last few days. Mum will be disappointed while Dad will want revenge, but one thing that they will both have in common is that they will want what is best for me. Itโ€™s that knowledge that is making me call them now because I need the security that comes from having people who have my back unconditionally without making any judgements against me.

As the phone rings, I feel a strange sense of guilt come over me because I know that I am about to ruin my mum and dadโ€™s day. Theyโ€™re retired now, so they have most likely got a relaxing Monday planned, pottering around the garden or taking a drive out to the seaside for a nice walk. Thatโ€™s what they tend to do during the week these days, and itโ€™s nothing less than they deserve after a lifetime of hard work and providing for me as I grew up. But their pleasant existence is about to be shaken to its core by my admission that my perfect marriage is not as perfect as it once was, and now I am in desperate need of their support again. They would have thought that I was all settled in life with my husband, my home and my career and that they had done a great job in setting me up for adulthood, safe in the knowledge that I was well taken care of when they eventually came to pass away. But now Iโ€™m about to let them know that is not the case and that Iโ€™m in as much of a mess now at the age of thirty-eight as I was back when I was eighteen and coming home drunk with no idea what I was going to do with my life.

โ€˜Hello, love.โ€™

My fatherโ€™s voice at the other end of the line instantly brings tears to my eyes because itโ€™s good to hear him. This is one man who I can genuinely trust to never let me down or hurt me. I used to have two men like that in my life, but now itโ€™s just dear old Dad again.

โ€˜Hi, Dad,โ€™ I say, fighting back tears.

โ€˜Is everything okay?โ€™

โ€˜No, itโ€™s not,โ€™ I reply, and Iโ€™m already blubbing.

โ€˜Whatโ€™s happened?โ€™

He sounds concerned, and that only makes me cry even more because I know how much he cares about me and how much heโ€™s going to hate seeing me like this when I go to his house soon.

โ€˜Samโ€™s gone. Iโ€™ve thrown him out.โ€™

โ€˜Why?โ€™

โ€˜Heโ€™s been seeing another woman.โ€™

โ€˜Heโ€™s been what?โ€™

Dad sounds incredulous, as I had expected, and part of me suddenly worries that he is going to demand to know where Sam is so that he can go round there and sort him out right now.

โ€˜Is it okay if I come home?โ€™ I ask, wiping my eyes. โ€˜Just for tonight. I need a break from here.โ€™

โ€˜Of course itโ€™s okay. Do you want me to come and pick you up?โ€™

I smile at how kind my father is.

โ€˜No, Iโ€™ll drive round myself. Iโ€™ll be there soon. Sorry if you had plans.โ€™

โ€˜Donโ€™t be silly. Your mother and I will be here when you arrive.โ€™

โ€˜Thanks, Dad.โ€™

I put the phone down before the emotion really takes hold of me, and I let out several deep sobs as I sink onto the bed and hit the duvet with my fists. At this time on a Monday morning, I should have been on site at work fulfilling my duties in the role that I have worked hard to attain. I should have been bantering with my colleagues without a care in the world, content with my life and everything within it. And I should have been able to enjoy a few pleasant moments when my mind would have drifted to thoughts of Sam and how his Monday morning was going, giving me warm feelings of happiness and satisfaction that there was a person out there in the world who was also thinking the same things about me right then.

Instead, here I am, lying on my bed crying my eyes out and preparing to go back home to my parents, where I will attempt to assess the state of my life and how I can best piece it back together from here.

As Monday mornings go, this has to be the worst one ever.

29

SAM

I knew I should have phoned in sick today. The office is the last place I should be with everything that is going on in my life. I wonder if Rebecca has gone to work. I doubt it. I have tried calling her and I have left her a couple of messages, but unsurprisingly, she hasnโ€™t responded to any of them. I really hope she is okay, but itโ€™s unlikely. Her heart has been broken, completely unnecessarily, but until I am able to figure out a way of proving it then she will continue to be in pain, and I will continue to be on my own.

Except Iโ€™m not on my own. Iโ€™m sitting in a meeting room with six other people, and I have only just realised that every single one of them is currently looking in my direction.

โ€˜Sorry?โ€™ I say, suddenly sitting forward and trying my best to make it look like I havenโ€™t spent the entirety of this meeting in a daydream.

โ€˜We were just wondering if you could give us any more updates on the Morgan Report.โ€™

That request came from Ed Burnstein, the director of the company Iโ€™m employed by and a man that nobody wants to disappoint. Unfortunately, I am going to have to disappoint him.

โ€˜Iโ€™m actually still working on the latest figures,โ€™ I mumble back, fumbling around with some of the papers in front of me as if they could possibly help me.

โ€˜We were rather hoping that you would have something to present to us today,โ€™ Ed replies, and even though I am looking down at the paperwork on the boardroom table, I can feel his glare on me as I flounder.

โ€˜Err, yes. I know, and Iโ€™m sorry about that but-โ€™

โ€˜Weโ€™re

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