Chapter Two

Orla stretched her neck; she was so tired even the loud audible crack that emerged didn't faze her.

After this, she could go home and spend months uninterrupted with her wife and daughter; that thought made her smile.

Jay would make her breakfast in bed on Sundays, and they would eat it together as they talked about anything and everything.

That had been one of the things that surprised Orla; spending time with someone you loved didn't need to be full of sexy time, although those moments were always highly anticipated too.

Orla simply enjoyed the quiet moments with her wife.

The bumpy train seat was the only rest she had for hours, with her having to wait around all afternoon while she spoke to journalists about her most recent works, endless rumors, and insane gossip.

Then the train had decided to be two hours late. Orla was tired, and her feet raged with the pain. She just wanted to be home with her wife, she always gave excellent foot massages.

Home seemed like a beautiful dream with Jay and Aria; it was where she wanted to be; a small smile crept across her lips as she brought to mind their favorite lazy Sunday mornings.

Jay had started it when Aria was a tiny baby. She would get her into their bed, and the three of them would spend the morning together.

Now Aria would often crawl into their room on her own when Jay wasn't fast enough in doing her job.

Longing made no difference. Orla still had two days until she could go back home, and video chats just weren't enough; the writer thought back to their beginnings how Orla had wanted the woman only for sex. She was very talented in that department, Orla had wanted someone completely different as a life partner.

She had imagined someone sophisticated and refined; Orla cringed when she thought back to how she hid Jay from her friends.

While Orla had been searching, Jay had been too busy wooing her until when Orla had the opportunity for her perfect woman, she realized her ideas had changed. Her sense of the ideal woman was now Ms. Wrong.

Of course, she had stopped being Ms. Wrong a long time ago, the night Orla's younger sister Roisin was involved in a nasty car crash which she had to be cut from the wreckage.

Orla had been a mess, the fear of losing her baby sister collided with the memory of her parents' death, and Orla had ceased to function.

After leaving the hospital for the first time three days after arriving, Orla and Ciara alone praying for good news; Orla had collapsed in tears on her sister's kitchen floor, feeling lost and alone and utterly terrified.

Orla had left London suddenly and been ignoring Jay's messages and calls for days, Jay had grown worried. Orla had accidentally answered her facetime, and Jay hadn't taken no for an answer. She had been on the first flight to the Isle of Man.

That had been the moment Orla knew she had fallen in love with Jay Brogan when she had pulled open the front door and slipped into her awaiting arms a sobbing mess and heard the soft, loving whispers of the woman try to soothe her.

Orla had never looked back; she had been the one to propose to Jay. Everything was perfect for the first time Orla was thrilled and content.

And when Orla would have the recurring nightmare about her parents' death, she would feel Jay's arms wrap around her, and she would feel safe again.

Her phone sounded, breaking her out of her thoughtful mood; she needed to go home so she could see her wife's face in the flesh. Instead, Orla picked up her cellphone from inside her bag and read the message from her publisher.

What the hell haven't you told me Orla, call me back now this scoop they have on you is enormous.

Orla frowned. What scoop did someone have on her? She was boring; what could be so sensational?

Her phone went off again.

It's too late. It's been leaked on Twitter. That was all the ominous warning Orla had before her publisher sent her a link to a twitter thread.

Orla's eyes widened with horror and confusion as she read the post, scroll down the thread, the news became more and grimmer.

Author Orla Kissack and her porn star dominatrix wife. Orla felt her stomach spiral and twirl as she thought her world whither and died around her.

Disbelief first filled her; it must all be fake, just some good photoshop jobs until she decided to google and type in the porn name that she had read, Ajax Jaya, and then came face to face with her own private hell.

The remainder of the journey was a blur until Orla got to her hotel room and threw her stuff on the bed. She pulled out her laptop, typed in the information she had piles of pages came up about the woman, the one who seemed so unlike her wife.

Orla's eyes filled with tears as she let one video play. If she had any doubts about this information's truth, she was sure when she heard her wife's voice. The fake overdramatic moans and groans that only existed in porn-filled her ears with disgust.

Most people knew their partners had other sexual partners before them, but there was one thing knowing this and another watching them have sex with someone else.

Her phone flashed as it began to vibrate; she had turned it on to vibrate during her interviews that afternoon.

Jay.

Orla stared down at the cell phone; her fingers shook with anxious energy. The porn was still playing on. Only then did she realize she had seen enough. Orla stopped the film and closed her laptop to hide from the truth.

The truth that her heart had been ripped from her chest maliciously. Was her whole life a lie? Had everything been lies and half-truths?