The Broken Heart Novel – I can’t wait to see my husband and share my surprise: a two-week vacation in the Maldives to celebrate our tenth anniversary. But when I open his office door, and my world falls apart. In front of me, an undressed woman’s backside sways back and forth. On hands and knees, she slinks across the desk, purring and pouncing at Dan, who sits mesmerized behind his desk, his mouth hanging open. The woman turns her head to look at me and smirks. “Forgot something, sweetheart? Care to join us?” My brain is on standby, and my lungs gasp for air. At that moment, Daniel looks up. “Ash? What…?” Appearing flustered, he leaps to his feet and stares at me. I scoop up my bag, and my feet remove me from the office as if on autopilot. By the time I reach the lift, I must have broken the world record in racewalking. I can hear Daniel calling my name, but I’m already in the elevator, pushing the button for the doors to close. I’m safe. How could he? My Daniel. Why?
Ashley Eleven forty-five. The conference table resembles a crime scene, with piles of papers and notes strewn in all directions, but it looks like an early wrap-up this week. We finished our work for the day—hours earlier than planned. I credit that to my idea of including the neighbors’ extended family. After that, it was a piece of cake to wrap it up for the day. It takes a while until we have collected our notes and are ready to leave the meeting room. This leaves me time to call in on Daniel and bury the hatchet. I’ve made my point by moping, and that’s enough now. “You guys go ahead. I’m going to pop in to say hi to Dan. I’ll meet you at Tony’s. Can you order me a G&T and a plate of curly fries?” “Now, Ash”—Fred stops with a grin, one eyebrow raised—“don’t work Daniel too hard. He has a big interview with the prime minister tonight and needs to be in top form.”
As the entire team chuckles, I shoot a fierce glance at Rita and Hinemoa. “Traitors. You two should know better than to join the guys in making fun of me. Where’s your loyalty?” I stop myself from saying something unladylike. However, I can’t keep the blood from rushing to my head. It’s annoying, and I shouldn’t rise to their bait. Mustering as much dignity as I can, I turn toward the door, bestowing upon them a Queen Elizabeth wave as I leave. “See ya, kids.” Dan’s stormed up the corporate ladder, and it shows. As the creative director, he occupies one of VPC’s best offices on the top floor. Spacious, with an elegant seating area, mahogany bookshelves, and a sizable desk in the corner, it overlooks Auckland’s stunning CBD and the Waitematā Harbour. Heaven only knows how he gets anything done with such a distracting view. At fifty-three, he deserves it too.
Much of Vanguard’s success is thanks to him. At a time when everyone’s on the lookout for someone quicker, younger, and racier, Dan’s holding his own. Like a golden retriever, he sniffs out the next ‘in’ hit and has a shelf full of trophies and awards to show for his efforts. It’s testimony to his talent and cunning that he’s stood his ground in the fickle world of television. I can’t wait to see him and share my surprise: a two-week vacation in the Maldives to celebrate our tenth anniversary. Smiling in anticipation, I push the elevator button to the sixth floor. When I get there, the office floor is almost empty. Only two people sit hunched over their computers, pounding the keyboards to make what I guess would be the last corrections before sending the transcripts over to Preproduction. When one of them shoots me a strange look, I glance down at my blouse, checking to see if I’ve missed a button or dropped a piece of chocolate from the morning tea pastries.
But all seems in order. I stride across the room, counting my blessings that I work from home most of the time. I certainly don’t miss the office politics. In the lift, I’d toyed with different scenarios. Should I forgive Daniel straight away or make him grovel awhile? I’m still undecided. Pulling the vacation brochure and tickets out of my bag, I open the door, and my world falls apart. I gasp for breath, the brochure and tickets burning in my hand as my bag drops to the floor. The display on Daniel’s desk. Oh, my goodness. In front of me, an undressed woman’s backside sways back and forth. On hands and knees, she slinks across the desk, purring and pouncing at Dan, who sits mesmerized behind his desk, his mouth hanging open. The woman turns her head to look at me and smirks. “Forgot something, sweetheart? Care to join us?” With high-heeled red stilettos and a set of long legs, she pushes stuff off his desk as she moves. My brain is on standby, and my lungs gasp for air. “Oh…” The word whooshes through my tight lips while a voice in my head shouts, “Turn around, turn around!” At that moment, Daniel looks up. “Ash? What…?” Appearing flustered, he leaps to his feet and stares at me.
His chair crashes to the floor behind him with a loud bang. As soon as my brain comes back online, I scoop up my bag, and my feet remove me from the office as if on autopilot. By the time I reach the lift, I must have broken the world record in racewalking. I can hear Daniel calling my name, but I’m already in the elevator, pushing the button for the doors to close. I’m safe. Holy Moses. I lean back against the cold metal walls, trying to stop the shaking, stop the tears, to stop, just stop. Without success. How could he? My Daniel. A merciful numbness spreads through my mind. Why? I’d have sworn he’d never cheat. We might not be married, but except for not having the official seal of approval, we’ve been partners in every sense. We even bought a bloody house and mourned two miscarriages together. As I fight to hold back the tears, the elevator stops on the ground floor.
I flee through the foyer as if pursued by a pack of wolves. “Ms. O’Neil, are you okay? Shall I call someone? A taxi?” Tom, the concierge, rushes to open the door for me. His look of pity’s killing me. “Thanks, Tom, I’m fine. Just need some fresh air.” Does he know what just happened? Don’t concierges know everything that happens in a building, or is that just a rumor? Tony’s is just across the road. My feet tell me to keep running, but I have to wait for the light at the pedestrian crossing to turn green. I rub my arms for comfort. How could he do this to me? I’m shivering, and it’s not just from the bite in the spring air.
The last thing I feel like doing is sitting in a bar having drinks with my teammates. I’d much prefer to wring Dan’s neck or huddle in a corner to lick my wounds. No, I have zero interest in polite small talk right now. Everything inside me wants to run away, to hide. I could take the ferry home, but no—too many people. When a cab approaches, I flag it down and hop in. “G’day, where to?” “Northcote, please. Queen Street.” As soon as the cab moves, I flick Peter a text: “Hi. Sorry. Something’s come up. I can’t join you. Have fun without me! I’ll check in with you guys on Monday.” A cynical chuckle escapes my lips. Huh, something came up alright. Fighting to stop the tears from running down my cheeks, I ponder what to do. I can’t stay at our house. No way. But do I have the strength to leave? I have no idea.