Chapter Fifteen: Anywhere But Here
Jack didn't know how long he sat there.
Minutes. Hours. Time had stopped meaning anything.
The steering wheel was cold against his forehead. His hands were still shaking. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her—Leena's face, twisted in pleasure, her body moving against theirs, her voice telling him to leave.
A knock on the window made him jump.
Jack's head snapped up. For a wild, irrational moment, he thought it might be Leena—that she'd come after him, that she'd realized what she'd done.
But it wasn't Leena.
It was Bella.
She stood outside his car in the cold night air, her arms wrapped around herself. Her makeup was smudged, her hair disheveled. She looked as broken as he felt.
Jack rolled down the window.
"Drive," Bella said quietly.
"What?"
"Just—drive. Please. I can't be here anymore."
Jack stared at her for a moment, then reached over and unlocked the passenger door.
Bella climbed in without another word. She pulled the door shut, buckled her seatbelt, and stared straight ahead.
"Where?" Jack asked, his voice hoarse.
"Anywhere but here."
Jack started the engine.
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He drove without thinking, his hands moving on autopilot. The city lights blurred past them. Neither of them spoke.
Jack's mind was blank. Empty. He couldn't process what he'd seen. Couldn't make sense of it.
Leena. His wife. The woman he'd loved for years.
Lost in pleasure. Forgetting he existed.
"Where are we going?" Bella asked after a while.
Jack blinked. He hadn't realized where he was driving until he saw the familiar turn-off ahead.
"There's a place," he said quietly. "A cliff. It overlooks the city."
Bella nodded. "Okay."
They drove in silence the rest of the way.
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The cliff was deserted at this hour.
Jack pulled into the small parking area and killed the engine. Below them, the city sprawled out in a sea of lights—thousands of tiny pinpricks against the darkness.
It was beautiful. It had always been beautiful.
Jack stared at it and felt nothing.
"I proposed to her here," he said suddenly.
Bella turned to look at him.
"Seven years ago," Jack continued, his voice distant. "I brought her up here at sunset. Had this whole speech planned. About how she was my future, my everything. How I wanted to spend the rest of my life making her happy."
He laughed bitterly.
"She cried. Said yes before I even finished asking. We sat right here, in this exact spot, and watched the sun go down. And I remember thinking—I remember being so fucking certain—that nothing would ever come between us."
Bella was quiet for a long moment.
"I'm sorry," she said finally.
"Don't be." Jack's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I did this to myself. I agreed to all of it. The rules, the parties, the—" His voice cracked. "I thought I could handle it. Thought it would bring us closer."
"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Bella said softly.
"No. It wasn't."
They sat in silence, staring out at the city.
"My husband cheats on me," Bella said suddenly.
Jack turned to look at her.
"I've lost count of how many times," she continued, her voice flat. "We do swaps—you know that. We've been doing it for years. But somewhere along the way, he stopped caring about the rules. Stopped caring about me. Now he just fucks whoever he wants, whenever he wants. And I'm supposed to smile and pretend it doesn't hurt."
"Bella—"
"I saw him tonight," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "With some woman I've never met. She was young. Pretty. And he was looking at her the way he used to look at me. Like she was the only person in the room."
Jack's chest tightened.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
"Don't be." Bella wiped at her eyes roughly. "I'm telling you this because—because I want you to know you're not alone. We're both—" She laughed bitterly. "We're both fucking idiots who thought we could play these games without getting hurt."
Jack wanted to say something. Wanted to tell her it would be okay, that they'd both survive this.
But he couldn't.
Because he didn't believe it.
Instead, something inside him broke.
A sob tore out of his throat—raw and ugly and completely beyond his control.
"Fuck," he gasped, pressing his palms against his eyes. "Fuck, I'm sorry—"
"Don't apologize."
"I just—I can't—" Another sob. "She forgot I was there, Bella. She was so lost in it that I didn't even exist to her. And I don't—I don't know how to come back from that."
Bella reached over and took his hand.
She didn't say anything. Didn't try to fix it or make it better.
She just held his hand while he cried.
Jack didn't know how long he sat there, his body shaking with sobs, his face buried in his hands. Bella's grip on his hand never wavered.
Eventually, the tears stopped.
Jack lifted his head, wiping at his face with his sleeve. He felt hollow. Emptied out.
"Sorry," he said hoarsely.
"Stop apologizing." Bella's voice was gentle. "You're allowed to fall apart."
"I don't want to fall apart. I want to—" He stopped. "I don't know what I want anymore."
"That's okay too."
They sat in silence for a while longer, watching the city lights flicker below them.
"We should probably go back," Jack said eventually.
"I don't want to."
"Me neither."
Bella leaned her seat back slightly. "Then let's not. Let's just—stay here. For a while."
Jack nodded. He reclined his own seat, staring up at the roof of the car.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
"For what?"
"For not judging me. For just—being here."
Bella's hand found his again in the darkness.
"We're in this together now," she said softly. "Whatever happens next."
Jack closed his eyes.
He didn't know what would happen next. Didn't know if his marriage could survive this. Didn't know if he even wanted it to.
But for now, in this moment, he wasn't alone.
And that was enough.
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Jack woke to sunlight streaming through the windshield.
For a moment, he was disoriented—unsure where he was or how he'd gotten there.
Then it all came rushing back.
The party. Leena. The bedroom.
You need to leave.
Jack's chest tightened.
Beside him, Bella stirred. She blinked awake slowly, her hair mussed, her makeup smudged from the night before.
"Morning," she said, her voice rough with sleep.
"Morning."
They sat in silence for a moment, both of them staring out at the city in the early morning light.
"We fell asleep," Bella said.
"Yeah."
"In your car."
"Yeah."
Bella laughed softly—a tired, broken sound. "We're a mess."
"Yeah."
Jack started the engine. His body ached from sleeping in the car, his neck stiff, his back sore. But the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the hollow feeling in his chest.
"I should get you home," he said.
Bella nodded.
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The drive back was quiet.
Jack's mind was racing, but he couldn't seem to form coherent thoughts. Everything felt fragmented. Disconnected.
He pulled up outside Bella's house twenty minutes later.
Bella unbuckled her seatbelt but didn't get out immediately. She stared at her house, her expression unreadable.
"His car's not here," she said quietly.
Jack followed her gaze. The driveway was empty.
"He didn't come home," Bella continued, her voice flat. "He's probably still at the party. Or with whoever he left with."
"Bella—"
"It's fine." She opened the door. "I'm used to it."
She climbed out, then paused, leaning back in through the open door.
"Thank you," she said. "For last night. For—everything."
"You don't have to thank me."
"Yes, I do." Bella's eyes met his. "You didn't have to let me in your car. Didn't have to drive me anywhere. Didn't have to sit with me while we both fell apart. But you did. So—thank you."
Jack nodded, his throat tight.
Bella closed the door and walked toward her house without looking back.
Jack sat there for a moment, watching her go.
Then he put the car in gear and drove home.
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The house was empty.
Jack knew it the moment he walked through the door. There was a stillness to it—a silence that felt deliberate.
Leena wasn't home.
She'd stayed at the party.
Jack stood in the entryway, staring at nothing.
Part of him had hoped—irrationally, desperately—that she'd be here. That she'd have come home, realized what she'd done, and be waiting for him with an apology.
But she wasn't.
She'd chosen to stay.
Jack walked into the living room and sank onto the couch.
His phone was in his pocket. He pulled it out, staring at the screen.
No messages. No missed calls.
Nothing.
Jack scrolled through his contacts until he found the number he'd saved weeks ago—back when he'd first started to suspect that his marriage might not survive this.
A divorce lawyer.
He'd contacted them once before, after the first time. Had asked about consultations, about what the process would look like.
But he hadn't followed through. Had convinced himself that things could still be fixed.
Now, sitting alone in his empty house, Jack knew the truth.
There was nothing left to fix.
He pressed the call button.
The phone rang twice before someone picked up.
"Law offices of Mitchell & Associates. How can I help you?"
Jack took a deep breath.
"I'd like to schedule a consultation," he said quietly. "For a divorce."