CHAPTER 3: BLAST FROM THE PAST

"What's going on here?" she asked in perfect Italian, her tone brooking no argument.

The officer snapped to attention. "Racheal, this man is demanding to see a prisoner, Abigail Johnson."

The woman turned to me, and I felt the ground shift beneath my feet. It was none other than Racheal Williams. My ex-wife. I hadn’t seen her in years, not since the divorce. My mouth and eyes couldn’t help but open widely. She was looking more powerful and confident than I ever remembered.

"Benjamin?" Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. I could also see hate in her eyes. I recognized those brown eyes from our whole divorce procedure. 

"Racheal?" I stammered. "What are you doing here?"

She straightened. "I'm the liaison for the Rome city police."

I was stunned. The Racheal I remembered was quiet, almost mousy, always in the background. This Racheal was a force to be reckoned with.

Racheal’s POV

Seeing Benjamin, memories of our bitter past flooded my mind. I never thought I would ever see the man who propelled my life in this direction. I hate him so much. Seeing him again brought back a cascade of emotions, but I kept my composure. I had worked too hard to rebuild my life to let his presence rattle me now.

"That's, by the way, why are you causing such a commotion in my office?” I asked with my eyebrows raised angrily. 

“You guys’ arrested Abigail; I need you to free her now!” He demanded in a commanding tone. 

I can’t believe after everything he did to me; he feels he could just come into my office and yell at me like this. He must think he’s powerful here. 

“Shut up! Who do you think you are to make such demands? This is not your office, okay? This is my police station, and here you will have to follow the natural order of things, or I will arrest you and put you behind bars next to your girlfriend for going up against an officer of the law.” I said it in a rumbling tone. 

I could see the realization in his eyes after yelling at him. He went quiet; he might have been powerful over me in the past, but not anymore. 

“I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier.” He apologized.

“It’s okay; make sure you know your place. Now come with me.” 

We went to my office, and as I sat down across from him, I couldn’t help but remember the night everything began to unravel.

It was my birthday. I had waited all day for Benjamin to come home, hoping we could celebrate together. But as usual, he was late, consumed by his work. I sat on the couch, staring at the clock, trying to keep my disappointment at bay. Aldo, my best friend at the time, had come over to keep me company, sensing my loneliness.

“Happy Birthday,” Aldo said, placing a cake on the coffee table. He cut a slice and handed it to me, his smile warm and comforting.

“Thanks, Aldo,” I replied, trying to muster a smile. Just then, the front door opened, and Benjamin walked in, his face flushed from work and maybe a bit of anger.

“Happy Birthday,” he said flatly, his eyes flicking to Aldo and the cake. “What’s going on here?”

“Benjamin, you’re home!” I said, trying to ignore the tension in his voice. “Aldo was just keeping me company.”

He scowled, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. “I see. Well, don’t let me interrupt.”

“Benjamin, don’t,” I pleaded, sensing where this was going.

He ignored me, pouring himself a generous drink. As the evening wore on, he drank more and more, his jealousy and anger bubbling to the surface. Benjamin knew well that me and Aldo were just friends, but I don’t know why he gets jealous of Aldo sometimes.

“I can’t believe you’re spending your birthday with him and not with me,” he slurred, glaring at Aldo.

“Benjamin, you’re drunk. Please stop,” I said, feeling tears prick at my eyes.

Aldo stood up, his expression a mix of pity and frustration. “I think I should go.”

I nodded, feeling utterly defeated. After he left, Benjamin’s anger only grew. He stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. I sat there, alone, the remnants of my birthday cake mocking me.

Later, I found out he had met Abigail Johnson that night, and they had sex. It was the final blow in a series of heartbreaks that led to our divorce. I was too meek to fight and too broken to stand up for myself. The divorce was messy, filled with accusations of me cheating on him and pain. I tried to hold it together for our unborn baby, but I was barely holding on to myself.

As I looked at Benjamin now, I saw the guilt in his eyes. He was remembering, too. But I could never forgive him for cheating on me, especially with Abigail, and for taking my son away from me. 

“Racheal,” he began, his voice hesitant. “I—”

“Let’s keep this professional, Benjamin,” I interrupted, not wanting to revisit those painful memories. I had no idea what he was going to say, but I felt he was going to talk about something that was related to our past and trigger me. I wanted to keep this encounter as professional as I could. I might hate him, but I am also an officer of the law, so I must put my job first. “We’re here to deal with Abigail’s situation.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “Of course.”

I went over the legal process with him, explaining what needed to be done to secure Abigail’s release. I didn’t want to use all the anger and hate I felt towards him to handle the case, especially given that the Abigail he cheated on me with is currently in my custody. I felt I should just help him out and make sure he got away from me as soon as possible.