Story of a Secret Heart by Cassi Ellen - HTML preview

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The bad times

I was due to leave Sydney later that month, but once again I delayed my ticket for another four months. Now, I would never ever suggest to any woman (or man) to change any life plans just because of another person, but that’s what I did at the time and even now I don’t regret it one bit. Those four months gave Guy a chance to spoil me rotten and treat me like a princess; everything a girl could wish for.

Of course, after spending months living in shared dorm rooms in hostels, living in his apartment was luxury. We ate out most days and spent our weekends at the opera, eating in posh restaurants and drinking expensive cocktails. He even took me shopping a few times so that I would have some nice clothes to wear; his idea not mine! It was so far removed from what I had experienced as a backpacker I grabbed the opportunity with both hands.

There was only one problem; his sisters. After my first experience with Kayley whom he lived with, I didn’t think it could get any worse. Then I met the other two. Compared to those two, Kayley was absolutely delightful, and strangely enough, she soon became my favourite. Of course, Guy was completely and utterly unaware anything was wrong, or if he did realise, he didn’t say a word.

I recall asking him one day about it; I commented that I was worried his sisters didn’t like me, even though ‘didn’t like’ was a huge understatement. After first denying it, he finally said, ‘Oh, they are just jealous of you.’

Now, being a woman, I was used to jealous women, and I’m not saying I’m amazingly good looking or anything because I’m not, but the general rule in my life was this: When men first met me they absolutely loved me, but once they got to know me they rapidly went off me. Women, on the other hand, tended to absolutely hate me at first and then once they got to know me, they quite often liked me. But I had known those girls for months. Plus, seriously, what could they possibly be jealous of? He was their brother. It wasn’t like I would crack on to any men they brought home (not that I ever saw any of them with a man in five years).

As far as I could see, there was no reason for them to hate me, but being British, I politely just played along and pretended everything was ok. Nonetheless, it all came to a head one night, not long after I had moved in. I remember walking into what was mine and Guy’s bedroom to use the ensuite bathroom, and I could hear all three sisters in the next room, with one of their friends, talking about me. To be completely honest, I can’t even really recall what they were saying, but I know it wasn’t very nice and involved the words ‘awful backpacker,’ ‘fat’ and ‘gold digger.’ At the time, I was extremely hurt and upset, mostly by the fat part, but I didn’t want to cause a scene or upset Guy, so I planned to say nothing and just pretend I hadn’t heard them. After all, they were his sisters and I doubted he would have believed me any way. Plus, although the words were hurtful it wasn’t anything I was shocked about. I already knew they hated me. But when I walked back into the lounge, I realised Guy had heard them too, by the horrified look on his face.

When I couldn’t help but burst into tears, his worst fear was realised that I had also heard. To my horror, he immediately started to confront them and my heart sank, knowing that after that, things would never be the same again. Nonetheless, a tiny part of me was happy he had seen what they were truly like and was finally sticking up for me.

That was the first and last time in our relationship that he ever stuck up for me. He was obviously outnumbered and backed down nearly straight away. The night didn’t end well, and I moved out / was kicked out by his sisters less than an hour later to live with some backpacker friends on the other side of Sydney. I was very upset at the time, but I’m glad I left, as I later found out that the three witches (as I had started to call them) had locked Guy out of his own apartment after he dropped me off and he had had to stay at a friend’s house. ‘The more you know about the past, the better prepared you are for the future.’ — Theodore Roosevelt.