Progressively Worse

The sentence left Amelia fuming with rage. Her fists clenched tightly by her side while tears spilled freely. She didn't care how she looked now― Caleb could see her as crazed, deranged, and even psychotic for all she cared.

"Get out of my house!" she yelled, pointing to the door, but Caleb merely barked in laughter.

"Did you forget? The title deed is under my name," he said with a cold sneer. "This is actually my house."

She stilled, her blood chilling in her veins. He was right. With her rose-tinted glasses, she had wrongly assumed it didn't matter whose name was written under the house deed. They were husband and wife, and love was supposed to prevail through wealth and poverty.

It was a mistake to have it written under Caleb's name when she was the one who paid for the cost of the house and even the monthly electricity and water bills. Even most of the furniture was bought with her hard-earned money!

Caleb merely laughed as he watched all colors of the rainbow run across Amelia's face as she experienced multiple horrible emotions at one time.

"Get your things and leave, Amelia," he coldly said, and in less than fifteen minutes, Amelia had gathered what little she owned and the door to their apartment slammed shut behind her with a bang.

Left alone in the corridor, Amelia sank to the ground and broke down in tears. She felt as though she had cried enough to last her three lifetimes, but the tears wouldn't end.

Everything had been for Caleb. For the last few years that they were married, she lived for him.

What was she going to do now that her sun had exploded and her universe had turned into ruin?

Amelia had no other choice but to return to her family home. There was at least one man who would always keep his doors open for her.

"Dad…" Amelia was a face full of tears when the door opened, revealing a man with graying hair and a tired face. 

Exhaustion hung across Michael Kentwood's face, but the second he laid eyes on his beloved only daughter, a smile quickly lit across his old features. He stepped aside, pushing the door a little wider before ushering her in.

"Amelia!" he excitedly said. "What brings you here? Where's Caleb―?"

He stopped himself short when he noticed the puffy red eyes and the irritated nose, his lips pursing together tightly as his face darkened. Wisely, Michael chose not to say a word. 

"Can I stay for the night, Dad?" Amelia croaked, and Michael rigidly nodded. 

With her father's permission, Amelia trudged into the house like a zombie. She headed straight for her old room, and when the door was pushed open, the tears that had just been stopped on the cab ride over nearly restarted― everything was kept the same as it was before, but it was still spotless and well-maintained.

"Let me know if you still need anything, Millie," Michael said, standing right behind Amelia. 

When she turned around, she was no longer able to maintain her composure. She dropped her tote bag to the ground and bawled, throwing herself into her father's arms. Michael barely caught her, but still maintained his ground, soothing her hair as her snot and tears quickly moistened his clothes.

"How could he?" she wailed. "After everything we've been through! He never truly loved me, Dad! And now he wants to take everything that we share― everything! Even the house… Dad, where else am I supposed to go after this?"

"You will always have your room here, Millie," Michael soothed. "We will find a good lawyer and sue that son of a bitch."

"I… I've already signed the divorce papers," Amelia despaired. "I was so out of it that I didn't even read through it properly―"

Just thinking about how she had basically signed away her life savings without a second thought brought upon another wave of grief. How could she be so foolish?

"I should've never married Caleb…" she sobbed, choking on her tears.

"You will meet someone better," he replied. "There will be better options waiting for you in the future, Millie."

"No, no I won't," Amelia said. She pulled away, raising her hands to hastily wipe at her tears. "I am done with love."

***

Love hadn't disappointed her enough just yet. In fact, what Caleb had done the night before was merely the tip of the iceberg.

"What do you mean I am fired?" Amelia asked, flabbergasted. Her palms were pressed against the cashier counter.

The line of customers behind her and all across the restaurant looked over in shock, eager to watch the show. However, the manager merely shook her head and maintained a cold expression.

"It is what it is, Amelia," her manager said. "We've reviewed your performance for the last month, and it is below average. Your balance paycheck will be settled and sent to your bank account in three days, but there's no further need for you to come to work."

Amelia's stomach coiled. She had a bad feeling about this. Sure enough, when she showed up for her afternoon shift at Friesent Corporations, her manager was standing outside as well, practically waiting for her.

"Kentwood," he barked.

She walked closer, and when he held out a white envelope, Amelia nearly cried on the spot. She chewed on her bottom lip, her hands shaky as she took hold of the envelope.

"Sorry, Kentwood," he said. "Upper management's orders. Your pay is here. Do check to let us know if it's correct."

The envelope crumpled in her hands as Amelia stared at it, red-eyed. With her trembling breath, she looked up at her manager and smiled.

"Thank you, Jason," she choked out. Without another word, she turned on her heel and left.

There was one more place she needed to head to for her evening shift, and when she returned to the club where her life turned upside down, Amelia sighed in relief when she realized there weren't any managers waiting around to fire her. Although, she was sure that if Nigel was still around, he would be more than elated to do so.

She slipped into the locker room and changed into her uniform before clocking in, proceeding with her tasks as per usual. Not even an hour had passed when someone suddenly stopped her in front of the bar as she was waiting for the drinks to be filled.

"Amelia Kentwood, is it?"