Chapter 2.
The emotions were at war. Rage into sadness into despair into red roaring anger.
Sarah sat alone in her house. It had ceased to be a home some ten days prior when her affair came into the public domain.
She had not spoken to her husband for nine days, none of her friends in the same period. The friendship group were all intermingled with Anya so much that a frosty silence had spread out while all parties made their choice as to whom to side with.
The only communication Sarah had engaged in was the morning after the night before when her mother had visited briefly to relay her displeasure. Allison was not one for delivering news by proxy. Eye to eye mother told daughter exactly what she thought of her and exactly where they now stood.
Allison even went as far as to make sure Sarah knew that the will situation would be changed effectively placing Sarah very much on the peripheral of any inheritance that would be due.
In the immediacy of the situation Sarah mused that money wasn't everything and the only thing that mattered was the mending of a broken heart. Threats were threats and in time Sarah was in no doubt that even her hard faced mother would not take things to that degree of extreme.
The morning of the tenth day changed that perspective quite considerably.
A courier delivered an official looking envelope and Sarah had thrown it on to the dining room table. She was too engaged in the latest batch of text messages to Mark and the checking of WhatsApp to see if her messages had been read yet.
Sometime later after a shower and a cup of coffee she came to regard the envelope. A jolt of fear surged through her as the thought crossed her mind that it could be in fact divorce papers from a solicitor. Surely it would come through so quick?
She stared at that hateful yellow envelope for an hour willing it to go somewhere else, just urging it to disappear or be addressed to someone else. When that failed she bent her will and concentration to beseeching to whichever entity which may or may not be looking out for her to make the contents not be divorce proceedings.
In the end, inevitably, there was only one way to find out. She tore open the envelope and allowed the contents to slide out onto the table.
She began to read the contents slowly and apprehensively at first and then more rapidly as the shock of the information began to penetrate in her brain.
Her mother had indeed followed through upon her threat. Sarah struggle to digest the legal, jargon heavy information but the general direction of the document was clear: she was to be marginalised in her mother's will.
Anger seethed as the permutations of the document sank in. Tears welled in the corner of her eyes and the realisation crept in that everyone had now turned their backs.
Sarah stalked into the kitchen and searched for the bottle of vodka that she knew would be tucked away somewhere. She caught sight of herself in the window of the kitchen door and didn't love what she saw.
Sarah always knew she was overweight. You can't kid a kidder after all. At a shade over 250 pounds they were no arguing with the fact. Her five foot four inches in height didn't help to move the weight around either and her only consolation was her bust. Most guys liked boobs and that was Sarah's ice breaker. The generalised standard for big boobs had always been the double D but Sarah's double J had placed her well above just having big ones.
Her boobs hung low without a bra but with the right piece of hardware to house them they displayed a quite impressive cleavage. Not that many men ever had got their hands on them she wistfully thought.
Then again in the recent past one too many guys had been mauling them and that was exactly why she was in this situation.
Finally the vodka was located and even though it was barely eleven o'clock in the morning she filled a pint glass with vodka and diet coke.
As she made her way into the dining room once again she caught sight of herself in that glass doorway and this time was treated to a view of her ass. It was well padded and completely in keeping with the rest of her. She fought back the tears that tried even harder to come.
She came to find herself with her head in her hands sat at that lonely dining table, her elbows bracketing the lawyer's letter, with her forehead resting on her balled fists and sometime into the distance she opened her eyes.
Directly underneath her gaze was that infernal document. Her eyes alighted onto a partially obscured paragraph.
"event of Mrs Paye's marriage arriving at point of divorce then all assets bequeathed shall become forfeit....."
Sarah brought the paper up and read carefully. For the first time in ten days the barest hint of a smile threatened to crease her pale plump lips and just for a second exposed her immaculate white teeth.
She made have an overbite, which had seen a couple of people call it cute-usually when they were trying to get into her knickers, but she kept her teeth in top condition. Her belly and ass may have gotten away from her but her teeth were well within her power to maintain.
She took a deep breath and picked up her phone and began to compose a message. "Mark" she typed, "We need to talk. If we get a divorce then I'm out of mums will. There has to be something we can do"
She signed off with the usual kisses and hearts before thinking better of it and deleting them.
On the other side of town Mark sat staring at a TV screen. He wasn't really paying it any attention but it was on in front of him.
He was tired. Just over a week ago his world had imploded and he felt so helpless to at least inflict retribution anywhere. Anya, who he thought of a family friend, had called him one afternoon to very bluntly tell him that his wife had been fucking her partner Davey. She had sent a picture of his wife in stockings and nothing else which had been found in Davey's phone with some rather exotic messages which left no doubt as to the goings on.
After a shouting match had ensued at home Mark had set out to find Davey in order to punch him but he had already left town. With no outlet to release his anger he simply sat and stewed in his own juices.
As an act of petty revenge he saw every message that Sarah sent but didn't reply. He knew this would be driving her nuts. Mark had a fear underneath it all that he would be alone. He was never a ladies man and the fact he managed to capture someone like Sarah was beyond his expectations.
He had spent a lot of time in thought over the last few days, trying to work out if he loved her or did he just think he did since he couldn't attract anyone else. He still hadn't figured it out by the time Sarah's message about her mums will had found him.
As much as he was angry he also knew that if this came to pass then he would lose everything as well. Sarah couldn't afford the house if mummy didn't come through and Mark couldn't afford to buy her out so that placed them in a sort of stalemate.
In the back of his mind he knew that he would take her back and he also know that he would work harder than ever to make sure she didn't stray by treating her nicer and nicer, and he hated that about himself.
In his mind's eye he could see a year down the road, to a time where the problems of the last week were behind them and never spoken of, but he also knew that he needed to know what exactly had taken place between Davey and Sarah.
In a perverse, vicious circle he also knew he didn't want to know and the two perspectives warred for supremacy.
He snatched up his phone and tapped in a terse message "I will come and talk tomorrow but I need to know everything if we are to go forward."
A reply came through immediately "Of course, anything. Thank You"
A second later another message pinged through and Mark sighed inwardly. He knew who this one would be from.
Anya had been messaging him almost constantly since that first night with just generalised nastiness about Sarah at first and it had gravitated over the last few days to imploring him to divorce the fat bitch.
"Don't let her get away with it Mark".
He had texted back a few times with standard responses just to acknowledge that he sympathised with her pain and found himself startled when his phone buzzed again in his hand. Somehow he had drifted out of focus and when regained the moment there was a message from Anya. It simply said "ok."
In confusion Mark had to open up the messaging app to read the previous message and was shocked to see that he had sent a message to Anya saying "can I come round because I need to talk about all this? Can be there in the hour?"
Mark threw himself into the shower and quickly got a change of clothes on and made his way over. He was a little apprehensive about going here as the last time he had turned up he was seeking the blood of Anya's partner, not that he thought that would be an issue today.
He walked up the tarmacked drive noting that only Anya's car was there. As far as he understood it Davey had gone back to work and was due to be away for at least six weeks and even so was not welcome back in the house.
When the two couples were friends they just walked into each other's homes but this didn't seem appropriate anymore so Mark duly rang the doorbell. Absently he wondered if the doorbell worked as he had never ever heard it ring or had even rung it himself.
His query was answered a moment later when the door opened and Anya Leigh was framed in the doorway. She looked like she hadn't care in the world. Her curly dark brown hair bouncing off of her shoulders in sharp contrast to Sarah's blonde bob. Anya's tanned shoulders strayed out from the red and black summer dress she was wearing and as usual her make was done to perfection.
Anya had clearly decided to front this whole situation and had elected to travel down the road of not showing anyone that she had been hurt.
"Hi" Mark offered.
"Come in" Anya offered in reply.
Mark sat in silence in the front room only speaking to confirm that he wanted a cup of tea.
The seconds turned into a minute and the minutes began to accumulate a few friends, the silence began to lengthen noticeably. In truth Mark wasn't sure what to say.
He took a breath to speak but Anya beat him to the punch, "So what do you want to talk about" she hummed. She had a good singing voice that Mark could attest to having heard it many times before everything changed.
"Sarah sent me a message today," he said meekly hating how his voice sounded right now "I need to speak with her about what's happened and I need to know what took place."
Anya stared back with the intensity of a jungle predator and Mark fleeting entertained the notion that she may actual strike him.
"Are you getting back with her?" The soft humming now replaced with a jagged, broken rock of a tone.
