One week later.
'It would have been better if it was avoided.' Callan thought as he mulled over the mess he had created.
It had been a week of torture for both of them.
Waking next to Orla every morning was hell, the silent treatment she gave him was scourging.
It killed him that he couldn't touch her like he used to. He wished all these would come to an end, but Orla wasn't making it easy for him. She was mad at him, and he perfectly understood where her pain was coming from.
Orla was suffering too. It hurt that Callan couldn't be the same man he used to be to her anymore. It hurt more that the trust had left her. After everything that had happened, there was no way she could trust Callan again.
The man who took solace in resting in her arms after a long strenuous day, the man who welcomed her into a new day by planting kisses all over her face and letting her rest her little troubled head on his chest as she slept at night.
The man who meant the world to her, the man who was everything to her was the one who hurt her the most, she couldn't bear the pain. It killed her.
After Mia's allegation turned out to be the actual truth and Callan also confessed to sleeping with three other women in their marriage, Orla just knew it was never going to be the same anymore.
Callan had hoped that she would overlook it and forgive him for being honest, but it was the other way around.
Fresh rushes of anger spurted through her whenever Callan showed up in her face. She wished she could hurt him too, but that would be petty.
She wasn't a cheat like him. Moreover, the thought of sleeping with another man besides Callan irritates her to the core. She could never do it.
Orla remained in the bedroom, she stayed there and shared the same bed with him, but never said a word to him.
-
She had gotten an email from Bernadoz Construction Company the previous night, inviting her to resume work by presenting more sheets of the drawings the next day.
They chose her and were ready to offer her the project if she adhered to their laid down instructions.
Orla wondered why they wanted her to work with them. Mia made it clear that she'd never choose her. She was forced to ignore the email and get into something else, but there wasn't anything to get busy with at home.
She needed to keep herself busy to avoid Callan. So, she picked up her phone and replied to the email, notifying the company that she would be there the next day.
Morning came quickly. She got out of bed, glaring at Callan who was still fast asleep. She muttered some cuss words at him before ambling into the bathroom, leaving the door wide open.
A few minutes into bathing, Callan walked into the bathroom. She noticed his presence but acted unbothered.
It has been like that for days now. Callan waltzed into the bathroom whenever she was having her bath. His eyes would linger on her body for minutes, clearly aware that she could feel his gaze burning her skin as she bathed, but he would never look away.
He would watch her until she was done bathing. Orla couldn't care less, she tried to keep her eyes away from him as his eyes lustfully ogled her.
Though sometimes she wished Callan didn't fuck up. She wished he hadn't cheated on her, he would have approached her, bent her over and had her right in the bathroom. She loved and missed that part of him, but she quickly annihilated those thoughts before they betrayed her.
Moving towards her closet, she yanked her towel off her body, revealing her perfect little body that caused Callan to swallow hard.
She was aware of what she was doing to him, she knew how bad her body always got him. But then he was paying for his sins. He could only see her, but would never touch her.
Callan shot her a lazy glance. He didn't feel the need to touch her, he just wanted her to talk to him again. Her silence was doing more harm than good to him.
He wiped off sprinkles of water that were dripping down his body with the towel that was draped around his waist. His eyes were still on Orla as she rubbed the lotion down her inviting sleek skin.
She stood there, displaying every manner of temptation that he couldn't resist and fuck, he wanted her so bad now.
He wanted to bend her over the table and bury his hard cock deep inside her. But having those thoughts was abominable.
He'd be damned if he remained on that spot, staring at Orla. She didn't seem like she cared about him anymore. Her nonchalance was gradually slicing his insides.
He wasn't certain how long he'd last if Orla continued that way. But he had tried to talk things out with her in the past week.
He had apologized in every possible way that he could. When Orla didn't forgive him, he decided to give her some space to have a rethink about them.
She picked a sleeveless red dress with black blazers and donned the clothes in no time after which she settled on the chair in front of the mirror to start with her clean girl makeup.
She still hadn't told him where she was going and he was dying inside of him. He remained on the bed, his eyes glued to Orla's body. When he couldn't hold it any longer, he hopped out of bed, heading closer to where she sat in front of the mirror.
"Orla," he dropped a hand on the table. "It's been eight days—"
She ignored it, fully focusing on her makeup. Callan waited for a response, when she wasn't considering one, he continued. "I am truly sorry for the crazy things I did."
"Callan!" She pressed the brush with her fingers, her lashes scornfully moving up and down Callan's body. "Sorry doesn't solve it all. You can't keep hurting me, expecting me to forgive you whenever you say sorry. You slept with my sister!"
"That was before I met you, Orla. No matter how messed up I am, I wouldn't sleep with your sister after we are married!"
"Really? But you fucked other women after me? Didn't you?"
"I wasn't thinking straight and I apologize, Orla. Please."
"No, Callan. No," tears quickly gathered in her eyes, ready to cascade down her cheeks if she talked again. She quickly switched to a calm mood, not saying anything to deter herself from crying in front of him again. "It's easy for you to apologize to me, but you truly don't know what I feel. You don't care about me, you don't."
"Orla, I do." There was no way else to explain that he did. "We can start all over again. I promise to right my wrong and make you happy this time. I promise to—"
"Enough of your empty promises, Callan." She lifted a hand to shush him. "I have somewhere to be this morning and I won't let you stall me with your talks."
"I can drop you off." He offered, ready to do anything that would make her forgive him.