What Are You Doing Here?
Malavika parked her car at home. There was just enough time to run in, throw her clothes in the washing machine and jump in the shower before Tim would be back. She runs to the front door and goes in.
When she enters, she is surprised to see packed suitcases by the entrance. Tim comes out of the bedroom. "Well look who is finally here," Tim says, sarcastically. She could sense something different in him. He stared at her with emotionless, cold eyes. She knew that there could be no explanation for her appearance other than the truth. She finally had no choice but to tell Tim what had happened to her.
"Tim, I...," Malavika started.
"Just shut the fuck up," Tim interrupted, his angry dimeanor frightening her. "I am tired of the lies, the excuses, the bullshit," he continued. "I knew something was up. You were not acting normal. So, I hired a private investigator to find out what you have been up to," Tim says, tossing a stack of photos on the table.
"Time, after time, after time. Here you are entering the houses of God knows who. And each time your hair and makeup are in more disarray than when you went it. At first, I thought 'Oh my God, she is cheating on me.' As if that were all. It turns out that my investigator has some 'shady' connections, and when he asked around about you, it seems that these little 'encounters' of yours involved the exchange of money. I didn't want to believe it. I asked him to check again, because this could not be true. He did, and well, it is. You are a fucking whore. And right under my nose!! How could you do this to me?!" Tim said.
"Tim...PLEASE...let me...," Malavika tries to say.
"I don't fucking care what you have to say, so spare me your sob story. I don't want to hear more lies. The only truth is that I don't know you," Tim said, "and look at you. You are fucking mess. From the looks of it, you need to check yourself into rehab. Do yourself a favor and get help. Just do it without me. Don't EVER try to contact me!!" Tim takes his suitcases and leaves without another word. It would be the last time that Malavika ever saw him.
Malavika fainted onto the floor. She awoke a few moments later, remembering what had just happened, and immediately began sobbing, letting out screams of rage and tears. She laid on the floor a destroyed mess, crying until she passed out from exhaustion.
She woke up after some hours. She did not know exactly how many. All she knew was that there was an immense pain inside her that would not subside. She had to do something to numb herself. She went to the kitchen to find the liquor bottles that were left over from their last party, opened the first one she grabbed, and started drinking it without even knowing what it was. She drank until she passed out, her face covered in the trails of mascara left by her tears.
She woke up the next morning, hungover, and looked around her apartment, reality again hitting her, and her nerves and shakes returning, and immediately took a few drinks of the unfinished liquor bottle.
As Malavika sat on the floor, mildly buzzed from her morning fill of liquor, she began to remember her obligation to Marco. She looked over at the table at the photos that Tim left behind. Many of them were when she was entering Marco's house. There was also a Dear John letter for her. It seemed that Tim did not expect to encounter her personally.
"These things are proof that Tim has left me," she thought to herself, half drunk, "if I take these to Marco, this frees me!" Malavika hurriedly gathers the photos, the letter, finds her car keys, and begins the drive to Marco's house.