Chapter 55 – Broken Truths

Micheal’s POV

I finally had time to breathe.

"Just some peace and quiet." I muttered, allowing myself to sink into the sofa.

Finally, I could think of what really mattered to me. And when I did, one name came to me again.

Mannie.

I leaned back on the couch, staring at the faint light from my phone. My chest tightened. How long had it been since I last saw her? Since I last held her hand? Too long.

The gap between us was now a canyon I couldn’t cross.

“I hope she is not married yet,” I muttered under my breath. The thought alone was like a knife twisting inside me.

I opened my old chat with TRex, one of my closest friends, and scrolled to our last messages.

Me: Were you able to get Mannie’s number?

TRex: No, but I got Zarah’s. She never changed her phone number. Mannie did.

TRex: Since Zarah got rich, she doesn’t pick or answer people’s calls often. Don’t be surprised if she ignores you.

Me: Thanks, bro.

I sighed and put the phone down for a moment, running my hand over my face. If Zarah still had her old number, maybe she could help me. But would she?

A part of me doubted. Another part hoped.

“Since Zarah got rich… then Mannie must be married already,” I whispered to myself. “Or maybe she is with someone else.”

The thought crushed me.

I clenched my fists. I couldn’t stop the bitterness that rose in me. “Did our relationship mean nothing to her?” I asked the empty room. “Why didn’t she try to reach me? Even once?”

My parents had separated me from her back then. They hated the idea of me dating Mannie, a poor human girl. They pulled me far away, cut my ties, controlled my life. But through all of it, I had still expected something from her. A letter, a message, anything.

But there had been nothing.

I swallowed hard and picked up my phone again. My thumb hovered over Zarah’s number. I hesitated.

Memories of her flooded back—her sweet voice, the way she had always smiled when she saw me with Mannie. She wasn’t my type, but she had always been kind.

Or at least, that’s how I remembered her.

I hit call.

The ringing made my heart pound harder. One second. Two second.

Then her voice came, sharp, annoyed.

“Hello, whom am I speaking to?”

I froze for a moment, almost startled by her tone. It was not the warm voice I remembered. Still, I steadied myself.

“Hello, Zarah. It’s me… Micheal. Your sister’s boyfriend.” My hand shook slightly as I held the phone.

There was silence. Long enough for me to feel my heart sink. Then she asked, flatly, “Which sister?”

I laughed softly, trying to ease the tension. “Isn’t Mannie your sister? Or do you have another sister?” I teased lightly, hoping she would at least play along.

“Oh. Why did you call me then?”

Her coldness cut deep. I paused, frowning. Did she really not care? Did she not even remember me?

“Well,” I said carefully, “I lost touch with her. It seems she changed her number. I thought maybe I could reach her through you.”

“Okay. So, what’s in it for me?”

Her words stung, but I swallowed it down. That was Zarah, I told myself. She had always been a little blunt, a little greedy. Still, I didn’t expect this much sharpness.

“How about we meet and talk first?” I asked. It slipped out of me, but it felt right. A face-to-face meeting would be easier than this icy call.

“Send the address of the place and time,” she said quickly.

“Alright,” I replied, and I ended the call.

I stared at my phone for a long moment. My chest felt heavy. Something about her tone was off, but I brushed it aside. Maybe she was just tired. Maybe she had changed a little.

I booked a restaurant right away. Not just any restaurant, but one that was owned by Dominic himself. It was private, discreet. No paparazzi. No noise. Just a quiet place to talk.

---

When the time came, I drove there. The sun was already dipping, painting the sky with streaks of orange. I parked in front of the restaurant, and the valet came to collect my keys.

As I stepped out, I spotted her.

Zarah.

She was walking toward the receptionist, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. She looked just as beautiful as I remembered, maybe even more. Her dress clung to her curves, shimmering with every step. Her face was painted with careful makeup.

For a moment, I felt like I had gone back in time. Like nothing had changed.

I forced a smile, my dimples showing. “Oh, you’re on time.”

She turned with a sweet look. “Yeah. I just came in. I’m yet to meet the receptionist.”

Then she hooked her arm through mine. Just like that. No hesitation. Her perfume hit me immediately, strong and sweet.

I stiffened, wanting to push her away. But I didn’t. She was Mannie’s sister and I didn’t want to embarrass her in public. So I let her hold on.

We walked into the private room together. The waiter pulled the door open, and I led her inside.

I pulled out her chair and waited for her to sit before taking my own seat.

Old habits die hard.

“It’s been a long time,” I said.

“Yeah,” she replied, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. Her eyes glistened under the light. “So long that we’ve all lost contact of each other.”

Her voice was soft now, sweet. So different from the way she spoke earlier on the phone.

“You seem to be doing well,” I said, studying her carefully. “What about Mannie? How is she doing?”

At my question, her smile faltered for just a moment, but she quickly forced it back.

“Mannie?” She sighed heavily, leaning closer across the table. “A lot has happened with her.”

She lowered her voice, as if about to tell me a great secret.

I listened. At first with mild curiosity. Then with growing unease.

By the time she finished, my world tilted.

“She has eight children now,” Zarah whispered, shaking her head with mock sorrow. “She doesn’t even know who their fathers are. Different men, different mistakes. I tried to advise her. I told her you still loved her, that you would wait. But she refused. She chose recklessness.”

Her words hit me like blows. My chest tightened. My face drained of color.

“Wait,” I croaked, gripping the glass of water. My hand shook so much that droplets spilled onto the table. “Are you saying… Mannie has eight children? From different men?”

“Yes,” Zarah said smoothly, her eyes gleaming though she pretended to look pained. “I didn’t want to tell you. But you deserve to know the truth. She ruined herself.”

My jaw locked. My vision blurred. I stared at the table, at the food that suddenly seemed tasteless, poisonous. My stomach churned.

No. It couldn’t be.

Mannie? The girl who had always looked at me with shy eyes? The one who used to scold me gently when I was late to meet her? The one who had once cried in my arms and said I was the only one she wanted?

Eight children? With men she didn’t even know?

I wanted to reject it. To laugh in Zarah’s face and call her a liar. But the certainty in her tone dug into me. Doubt clouded my mind.

While I sat frozen, she brought out her phone and showed me an article, where she was featured due to her fertility.

I was stunned... No, stunned is an understatement. I didn't know exactly what to feel or how to feel.

Zarah slid from her chair and sat beside me on the couch. Her hand brushed against my arm.

She leaned close, her voice dropping into a purr. “But you… you’ve always been different, Micheal. You are strong, kind. I used to admire that about you.”

Her fingers touched my chest lightly, tracing a line down my shirt. Her eyes locked onto mine, searching, daring me to respond.

I froze. My heart pounded hard, but not from desire. From anger. From confusion. From betrayal.

For a moment, I closed my eyes. I tried to picture Mannie, her laugh, her gentle voice. But Zarah’s words kept echoing in my head, breaking those images apart.

When I opened my eyes, all I saw was Zarah—beautiful, yes, but also dangerous.

“Zarah,” I said firmly, pulling my arm back. My voice shook but I held my ground. “Thank you for telling me this. But I think I understand now. I can’t go back to her.”

I stood up abruptly. My chair scraped loudly against the floor. I straightened my shirt, putting space between us.

“Wait—” she reached for me, but I stepped away.

“I’ll pay for the food,” I said coldly, not meeting her eyes. “But I’m leaving.”

And then I walked out.

---

The evening air hit me like ice. My chest felt hollow.

Each step to my car was heavy.

I slid into the driver’s seat and gripped the wheel tightly. My mind spun.

My throat burned. My eyes stung. I pressed my forehead to the steering wheel and stayed there for a long moment, breathing hard.

I needed an outlet. I needed to drown this pain before it swallowed me.

I grabbed my phone and dialed my cousin's number. I knew nowhere in this city and needed directions. Luckily, he picked up on the first ring.

“Dominic,” I rasped.

“Bro, what’s up?” His calm voice came through.

“Are you free? I want to drink,” I said. My voice cracked.

He chuckled lightly. “Does Mr. Celebrity not want his fame anymore?”

“Take it that I was cheated on,” I said bitterly. “And I really need something… somewhere to put this heartbreak.”

There was silence for a beat, then his voice came, “I’ll send my driver to get you some drinks. I’ll join you later tonight. I still have work to finish.”

Relief washed over me, “Thanks, bro.”

I ended the call and drove off.