Maxine

Chapter 1

By now, I thought that someone would have come up with a time-travelling machine. To unwind time and fix what was messed up. If I had a chance. I would go back 15 years and skip this heartache. I’ll convince myself to stay behind, place my wild heart on lockdown and keep away from Mark Heyns. I’ve wasted six years of trying to get someone to love me. I’ve thrown away my passion and skill. To become a submissive wife.

"Maxine." I raised my head from my gloved hands to look at my coach as he called my name.

Coach Vincent wasn’t the best in town or known for coaching amateurs into champions. He helped train me to get back into shape after taking a four-year break from professional fighting. Unlike my parents who were pro-MMA fighters.

Rewind fifteen years of my life and I was an unbeatable martial art fighter. Trained by the best karate instructor. I was strong, powerful and moved like stealth. My mind was empty, my heart light and I had nothing to drag me down. I’ve earned my black belt throughout the years because I stayed loyal. Just like my mother who started at young, I was six years old when I earned my first belt.

I left that part of my life on hold to support my husband. His dreams seemed bigger and brighter than mine at that time. From a small stage actor and stand-in actor to Hollywood’s best male lead actor. I sacrificed my own dreams to turn his into a possibility without a selfish act. Only…I got left behind after he reached stardom.

"Shouldn't you be getting home to your husband, Mark?" Husband. It was so unclear to the world that we were falling apart because we kept it hidden. We've had our problems but nothing compared to these last six months.

Coach Vincent found me while I was competing in the illegal underground fights. There were no rules and killing your opponent was legal. He offered me a chance to get out. He signed me up for Brazilian Jiu-jitsu, where I earned a purple belt and then got the attention of INVICTA-FC. (An American professional mixed martial arts promotion for female fighters based in the United States.)

"Uh, yeah," I answered, peeling off the gloves and unwrapped the bandages from my hands.

"You guys probably have big plans planned for tonight." I kept my face dull trying not to show the real emotions that I've been holding inside of me this couple of months.

It is our six-year anniversary and we are supposed to be celebrating it, only it wasn't happening because Mark is in London with his mistress, Layla. She is only nineteen years old. Have long beautiful platinum blond curls, luscious curves, and a smile from a magazine. Soft and feminine as Mark describes her. He told me once that he feels intimidated by me because of my strong, muscular form. My curves weren’t soft as Layla’s. He wanted a woman, not a sculpted fighter.

"Definitely." I just answered, not really keeping track of our conversation.

"Must be fun dating a star actor." He said, handing me a bottle of water. I stood up from the bunk I was seated on, threw my things into my sports bag, hauled it over my shoulder, and said my goodbyes.

My phone buzzed in my pocket as I reached my Jeep. I slipped out my phone and smiled at the caller id. "Hey, mom," I answered, knowing she is calling me about my fight. I haven’t been able to visit them for a very long time, due to Mark’s busy schedule and because I was avoiding telling them about our separation. I have been living at a hotel these past few months while they were aware that I was living at Mark’s big mansion, a place I used to call home.

"Hey, kiddo." She greeted back. "That was quite a fight." My parents were astonished when they found out that I signed with INVICTA- FC. They didn’t know at that time I showed any interest in MMA. They would be disappointed if they have to learn that I have fought in the underground. I had to start doing something to make money for myself. Over the past years, I saved up and had more than enough to restart my life somewhere else.

"Even though I got treated like a punching bag?" I joked looking at the side mirror of my jeep, at the fresh bruises forming around my left eye and right cheek.

"You at least handed them back to her, knocking her out." She pointed out. I was nothing compared to what my parents used to be. Mom was called the wildcat and dad was the undefeated world champion.

"I’ve learned from the best. To never surrender." I said, referring to my mom who used to be a real badass inside and outside of the cage. It hurts knowing that I was lying to her and my dad about Mark and me. We always used to have a strong bond until I left Los Angeles. They have never resented me on the contrary, they’ve continued to support my decision even though, I made the incorrect one.

"How is dad?" I asked.

"Already up, getting in a jog before heading out to the gym. Proud as ever when he sees his daughter kicking ass." I bet.

"You are still coming home to Ryan's wedding?" She asked.

"Yeah, I'm leaving tomorrow. Just have a few things to sort out." I answered.

"Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. It's your six-year anniversary." I just nodded, even though she couldn't see me.

"I have to go, mom. I love you and I can't wait to see you guys. Send dad my regards." It was hard lying to her.

"We love you too, kiddo." She replied before hanging up. I got in behind the steering wheel and drove over to the hotel.

I stopped at the bar to order myself some room service, might as well get this night over with a hangover. I was making my way over to the elevator after placing my order when the service desk stopped me. "Mrs Heyns." The receptionist called. I turned to her and found her holding a huge looking envelope out to me.

"This came for you, a few hours ago." She said. I walked over to the desk to sign that I've received the package. I grabbed the package and headed up to my room. I placed the envelope down on the bed and decided to first take a shower. I know Mark said that I can stay at our home during our separation but I just couldn't face those empty walls. Walls that used to be the foundation of our love and marriage. Now a constant reminder of our pain and failure. They say walls can't talk but I know we leave an imprint of our everyday lives with them and maybe I was avoiding them.

I poured myself a glass of sparkling wine while skimming through the menu after I took my shower. I was contemplating if I should open the envelope before or after I had five glasses of wine. I have been avoiding the truth for too long because I didn’t want to grasp reality and watch my bridge burn down. For once, I wanted to be wrong.

A few drinks in and I was brave enough to face the envelope. I cut it open with an envelope cutter and pulled out the contents. I can't say that I didn't expect this. I knew from the moment we were done when he met Layla during the first month of our separation. He called for the separation and now he is calling the shots by filing a divorce.

How many times did I have to listen to him, shouting at me that he stopped loving me two years ago? That I stopped being fun to him. Maybe I put up my hopes too high, thinking that we will find our way back to each other. "I guess not," I muttered to myself, reading through the papers until I reached the page where I needed to sign. He has already signed it weeks ago. "Thanks for letting me know," I mumbled, downing the last bit of my wine in my glass before refilling it.

I thought I stood a chance, placed my life on hold for him because he needed me during his tough times and this is what I get. Divorce papers. His way of thanking me and now telling me that we are done. Stupidity can’t be undone with or even without a time machine.