Chapter Ninety seven

Damien's POV;

I downed another glass of whiskey. It burned my throat bringing tears that stung at my eyeballs.

I felt miserable, utterly useless, despicable in fact. I had pulled the last straw and Ariana had finally left me.

I couldn't count the number of times I thought it was a dream or a prank but each time I looked around my eeriely quiet bedroom, it painfully dawned on me that my wife was gone.

As usual, my coping mechanism was to drown myself in work and not think about anything or anyone else.

I had called and called and called. She did not pick up. She never did.

I threw a fit the day I came home and saw that a lot more of her stuff were missing from the closet we shared and when I asked, I was informed that she had come to take more of her stuff and no one cared to let me know about it.

I yelled at my mom who confessed that she was aware of Ariana's visit before hand and had promised to not let me know about it. Everyone in the house bore a brunt of my anger that day.