The Way Out He Never Saw Coming - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

I hadn't bought much for myself over the years, so the few things I owned fit easily into my battered old suitcase. As I reached into the closet for the last of my clothes, the apartment door swung open. The stench of alcohol hit me before I even saw him.
"Emily, did you just call me?" Leon's voice was thick and slurred, too loud for the small space. He staggered inside, his unsteady frame blocking the doorway. His eyes were glazed over, reeking of whiskey and some cheap, cloying perfume. He flashed me a grin—half-apologetic, half-mocking. "Don't get the wrong idea—she's just some girl from the bar. Nothing happened… well, nothing serious, anyway."
His gaze wandered around the room before landing on me, his expression a mess of confusion and amusement, like he couldn't quite grasp why I was packing. He took a wobbly step forward, and the closer he got, the stronger that woman's perfume clung to him. My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat at the nauseating mix of scents.
I stepped back, my body tensing. Leon noticed, his eyes narrowing, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, what's wrong, Emily?" he taunted. "Afraid I'll leave you? Relax—as long as you stop harping on about marriage, we're good. Why tie the knot anyway? Such a pain in the ass."
His hand shot out, fingers digging into my shoulder as he yanked me closer, his breath hot and sour against my cheek. "Come on," he murmured, voice dripping with condescension. "Admit it—you've come to your senses, haven't you?"
His grip tightened, pulling me against him, his body pressing into mine. Panic surged through me, and I twisted free. My hand moved before I could think, cracking across his cheek with a sharp smack.
The force sent him stumbling back, his head snapping to the side. For a second, he just stood there, stunned, before his shock twisted into rage. He steadied himself, rubbing his jaw, then let out a bitter laugh. "Emily," he hissed, voice venomous. "Don't push it. I'm giving you an out—don't be ungrateful."
That word—ungrateful—hung in the air, and something inside me shattered. Before he could react, I slapped him again, harder this time, across his other cheek. My palm burned, but the satisfaction was worth it. "No, Leon. You're the ungrateful one. Keep your 'way out.' We're done."
For a heartbeat, he just stared at me, bewildered, like he was trying to figure out if I meant it. Then his smirk returned, twisting his face into something ugly. "Oh, so you're serious this time? Playing the same old game, huh, Emily?"
I didn't answer. My heart was breaking, but I refused to let him see it. Turning away, I walked out, leaving him standing there in the wreckage of what we'd once had.
The night air outside was sharp, biting into my skin as I sucked in a deep breath. But the cold couldn't numb the ache in my chest.
I didn't want to hear Leon shouting after me, didn't want to listen to another cruel word, so I hurried down the stairs, suitcase in hand. My foot—still throbbing from the glass shard—made every step agony, but I pushed through.
Halfway down, my balance gave out. I slipped, landing hard on the steps, my suitcase flying from my grip. It tumbled down, bursting open, scattering my clothes and belongings across the stairwell.
The hallway was dim, the silence suffocating as I sat there, pain radiating from my foot and elbow. My things were strewn everywhere—a pathetic mess. My vision blurred, but I blinked hard, refusing to cry. This was rock bottom. I couldn't fall any further.
Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the railing, trying to pull myself up—then froze at the sound of a soft, unfamiliar voice behind me.
"Emily… do you need help?"