Island of Healing

By Tyke Wolf

Mark, a young gay man in his mid-20s, is devastated when he discovers his husband, Justin's infidelity. The betrayal deeply wounds Mark, causing him to lose faith and throw himself into work to numb the pain. His relentless work leads to burnout and self-neglect, alarming his boss who mandates a vacation to a luxurious island resort. Initially r

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tyke
• Release date: Oct 5, 2025
• ISBN: 9798349342073

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The Discovery

The harsh, insistent buzz of Mark’s phone sliced through the quiet of the apartment. It was nestled on the nightstand, a silent sentinel usually, but tonight, it felt like an unwelcome intruder. He squinted at the screen, the glow illuminating the unfamiliar number. A quick glance at the preview – a single, innocuous sentence – sent a jolt of icy dread through him. It wasn't the number itself that chilled him, but the casual, almost offhand tone of the message. Dinner with the guys went well. See you later, love. The 'love' felt wrong, a hollow echo of the affection he once knew.

His mind raced, piecing together fragments of recent weeks: Justin's increasingly late nights at the office, the strained excuses, the subtle shifts in their routine. Each piece clicked into place, forming a devastating picture of a betrayal that had been unfolding silently, unseen, while he’d been blissfully unaware. The comfortable illusion of their happy marriage, painstakingly built over years, crumbled around him.

He reread the text, each word a fresh stab of pain. It was a simple sentence, devoid of any explicit mention of infidelity, yet it spoke volumes. The casual dinner with the guys seemed innocuous enough, but the underlying current of something more, something hidden, throbbed beneath the surface. He knew Justin. He knew the way his husband’s words could subtly shift their meaning, a veiled dance of omission and implication. This message was a testament to that, a carefully constructed lie cloaked in the normalcy of everyday conversation.

A wave of nausea washed over him. He felt a tightness in his chest, a cold fist clenching around his heart. He couldn’t breathe. He reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, his hand trembling. He swallowed, trying to quell the rising tide of panic, but the water offered no solace.

Memories flooded back, a kaleidoscope of happier times: their first date, a clumsy encounter in a crowded bar; their first kiss, stolen under a streetlight; the giddy excitement of moving into their apartment, a haven they’d created together. He remembered the warmth of Justin’s hand in his, the comforting weight of his body nestled beside him in bed, the shared laughter that echoed through their once-joyful space. These memories now felt like shards of glass, cutting into his soul. The happiness had been real, palpable; the betrayal was a cruel twist of the knife, exposing the fragility of their love, his own naivete.

Anger surged, hot and consuming. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to shatter the very air around him with the force of his rage. But the anger was quickly overwhelmed by a deeper, more pervasive sadness. A profound sense of loneliness engulfed him, a vast emptiness that echoed the hollow space where their love once resided. He felt exposed, vulnerable, as if someone had ripped away his skin, leaving him raw and exposed to the harsh realities of the world.

He stumbled out of bed, the cold floor a stark contrast to thewarmth of the sheets. He wandered through the apartment, the once-familiar surroundings now feeling alien and hostile. Each object, each piece of furniture, seemed to mock him, a silent witness to the lies and deception. The photographs on the mantle, once cherished reminders of their shared history, now felt like cruel taunts. He wanted to rip them from their frames, to erase the evidence of a love that had become a haunting ghost.

The apartment, usually a sanctuary, a space of comfort and love, felt like a prison. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional distant city sounds. The bustling life outside felt a million miles away. His own thoughts, a torrent of emotions, seemed to drown him. His mind swung between denial and acceptance, a pendulum of pain. How could this happen? How could someone he loved, someone he trusted implicitly, do this to him?

Hours melted into a blurry haze of emotional turmoil. He tried calling Justin, then deleted the number from his phone. He tried to call his best friend, Liam, but the words wouldn't come. He wanted to be alone, to process the shock, to sort through the wreckage of his life, but the solitude was more unbearable than he anticipated. He found himself alone with the echoes of his shattered trust and the ghosts of his lost love.

As dawn broke, painting the city skyline with pale hues of orange and pink, the initial shock gave way to a bone-deep exhaustion. He collapsed onto the sofa, the plush fabric offering little comfort. Sleep offered no escape, only a disjointed series of fragmented dreams, each one a twisted reflection of the pain he was experiencing. The image of Justin’s smiling face, juxtaposed with the chilling words of the text message, taunted him relentlessly. The weight of his heartbreak pressed down on him, heavy and unrelenting. He felt emotionally drained, empty, hollowed out.

His work, usually a source of comfort and distraction, now seemed impossible. The thought of facing his colleagues, of pretending everything was normal, was overwhelming. He could barely concentrate on anything beyond the raw agony gnawing at his soul. He drifted in and out of consciousness, the line between sleep and wakefulness blurred, the torment never truly subsiding. The city outside hummed with the energy of a new day, yet he remained encased in his own private world of devastation, a prisoner of his broken heart.

The apartment, once a reflection of their shared life, now felt sterile, empty, and utterly devoid of life. The silence was oppressive, a constant reminder of Justin's absence and the hollowness that had replaced their shared happiness. Mark’s own physical condition mirrored his emotional state. He hadn’t slept properly, neglecting food and basic hygiene. His reflection in the mirror was a gaunt stranger. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair unkempt. He felt unclean, both physically and emotionally. He was a hollow shell, stripped bare by Justin's betrayal, and utterly lost in the debris of his shattered world. The relentless pain was a constant companion, a suffocating weight, an ever-present shadow. It permeated everything, staining every aspect of his life.

CHAPTER 2

Isolation and Denial

The fluorescent lights of his office hummed, a relentless counterpoint to the silence gnawing at him. Mark sat hunched over his computer, the glow of the screen illuminating the dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't slept properly in days, the nights a relentless cycle of tossing and turning, punctuated by vivid, unsettling dreams. He’d lost track of time, the boundaries between day and night blurring into a hazy, indistinct landscape. His work, usually a source of satisfaction and focus, had become a relentless escape, a desperate attempt to outrun the pain that clawed at his insides.

He pushed himself harder, longer hours, taking on extra projects, burying himself under a mountain of tasks. It was a self-imposed penance, a form of self-punishment, as if the relentless workload could somehow expunge the guilt and shame he felt. The endless stream of emails, reports, and presentations provided a temporary distraction, a momentary reprieve from the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume him. But the respite was fleeting, the underlying pain always lurking, a persistent shadow that followed him everywhere.

His colleagues noticed the change, the subtle shift in his demeanor. He was more withdrawn, less engaging, his usual sharp wit dulled, replaced by a weary silence. They offered concerned glances, hesitant words of support, but he brushed them aside, retreating further into his shell. He didn’t want their pity, their sympathy. He just wanted to disappear, to vanish into the anonymity of the city, to become invisible to the world.

Lunch was a solitary affair, consumed at his desk, amidst a sea of paperwork. He barely tasted the food, his appetite long since extinguished by the gnawing emptiness in his soul. He barely registered the presence of his colleagues, absorbed in his work, oblivious to their attempts at conversation. He felt a deep sense of isolation, a profound loneliness that settled over him like a shroud.

He existed in a perpetual state of exhaustion, both physical and emotional. The office, usually a vibrant hub of activity, felt cold and sterile, devoid of life and warmth. The rhythmic click-clack of keyboards and the murmuring conversations that normally filled the space seemed to mock his internal turmoil, a reminder of the normalcy he no longer shared. He longed for the comfort and security of home, yet the thought of returning to the empty apartment, a stark testament to his broken heart, filled him with dread.

His apartment, once a haven of love and laughter, now felt like a mausoleum. The silence was heavy, oppressive, broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards or the distant hum of the city. He wandered through the rooms, each space a painful reminder of Justin's presence, of their shared life, of the love that had been so brutally shattered. He moved like a ghost, his steps silent, his movements listless. His reflection in the mirror was a stranger, a gaunt figure with sunken eyes and a hollow expression.

His clothes were rumpled, his hair unkempt, his beard scraggly. He hadn’t bothered to shave in days, neglecting his hygiene as he neglected every other aspect of his well-being. His body mirrored his emotional state: depleted, exhausted, and in desperate need of care. He felt unclean, both physically and emotionally, as if Justin's betrayal had left him stripped bare, exposed to the elements. The days blurred into a monotonous routine of work, sleeplessness, and an overwhelming sense of isolation.

He avoided contact with his friends and family, retreating further into himself. Liam, his best friend, had called several times, his voice filled with concern. ButMark couldn’t bring himself to answer, unable to articulate the pain that consumed him. He didn't want to burden Liam, didn't want to share the details of his shattered world. He felt utterly alone, adrift in a sea of grief. The thought of explaining everything, of reliving the betrayal, was too overwhelming.

He tried to distract himself with television, with movies, with books, but nothing worked. The screens flickered, the pages turned, but his mind remained trapped in a cycle of self-recrimination and despair. He couldn't escape the memory of Justin’s smiling face,