The Next Morning đ The sunlight spilled through the sheer curtains, painting soft golden patterns across the bed. My head still ached faintly, but the dizziness had eased. I reached for my phone and blinked at the time â 7:43 a.m.Seven wasnât beside me. His side of the bed was empty, the sheets already cool. I sat up, rubbing my temples as flashes of last night returned â the nausea, the photo, the haunting sense that something was slipping through my fingers.The faint sound of voices drifted from downstairs. I slipped into one of Sevenâs shirts and padded barefoot toward the stairs. Halfway down, I stopped.He was on the phone again.ââŚI told you Iâll take care of it,â he said, his tone clipped. âNo, she doesnât know anything yet. And she wonât â not until Iâm ready to have that discussion with her.âMy breath caught.There was a long pause before he spoke again, softer this time. âI made a promise, and I intend to keep it. Even if it costs me.ââMoreover, Iâm not still sure about
Days Later âąThe last three days have been nothing short of blissful. Sometimes, I still catch myself smiling for no reason â just thinking about everything thatâs happened.Seven and I finally went to Nigeria to see my father. It had been almost a year since I last saw him, and as the car pulled into our compound, a wave of memories came rushing back â childhood laughter, long evenings under the mango tree, and the sound of his voice calling me âmy sunshine.âHe was already waiting on the veranda when we arrived. The moment he saw me step out of the car, he opened his arms wide, and I ran straight into them. His familiar scent â a mix of aftershave and home â wrapped around me like comfort.âDaddy,â I whispered, smiling through tears.âMy daughter,â he said softly, holding me tighter. âYouâve grown into everything your mother once dreamed youâd be.âThen he looked at Seven, who stood a few steps away, waiting respectfully. My fatherâs eyes softened even more.âAnd you must be t
That night, long after everyone had gone to bed, although Seven was in the bathroom, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. My phone glowed faintly in my hand, showing me pictures of my boutique in Dubai. The racks of dresses, the soft lighting, the gold letters of my name shining proudly above the entranceâit all looked so far away, like a life I wasnât sure Iâd get to keep.Was I really supposed to leave it behind? My customers, my work, everything I built from scratch? The idea of starting over in New York pressed on my chest, heavy and suffocating.The bathroom door opened, and Seven walked out with a towel slung around his shoulders. His eyes went straight to me. I quickly shoved my phone under the pillow.âYouâre still awake?â he asked, his voice low.âCouldnât sleep,â I said, forcing a small smile.He sat down on the bed beside me and took my hand. âYouâve been quiet all evening. Whatâs going on?ââNothing,â I lied quickly. âIâm fine.âHe leaned in, kissed my forehead. âWhatever i
Seven kissed the top of my head like that would stitch me back together, then pulled back just enough to study my face. He searched my eyes as if he could exorcise Kenzieâs words with a look.âWe donât have to stay,â he said quietly. âIf you want, we can leave. Now.âFor a second, I almost nodded. I wanted nothing more than to escapeâto shrink away from the laughter, the looks, the sense that the world had turned against me. But something stubborn lurched up inside me, hot and fierce. I had never been good at running from things that hurt me; I had a habit of staying until I understood why they hurt.âNo,â I told him before I could talk myself out of it. My voice was small, but there was a steadiness beneath it. âI donât want to make a scene. But Iââ I swallowed. âI want you to stand with me. Not to argue with them, but justâbe here.âHe nodded, relief loosening his shoulders. âAlways,â he said. âIâll be right here.âSevenâs words lingered even after he left the hallway. âIâll always
I closed the bedroom door behind me and headed straight for the bathroom. My hands trembled as I turned the lock and leaned against the sink. The fluorescent light hummed above, its harsh glow reflecting my red-rimmed eyes in the mirror.Kenzieâs voice still echoed in my head like a cruel refrainâpretender⌠no good for him⌠Iâd rather die than let my brother marry you.The words dug under my skin, sharp as broken glass. I wanted to scream, to throw something, to tear her words out of my memory, but I just gripped the edge of the sink until my knuckles turned white.I didnât even realize how much time had passed until I heard the soft knock.âStarr?â Sevenâs voice came through the door, calm but laced with worry. âAre you okay?âI froze, staring at my reflection. Did I look okay? My mascara smudged beneath my eyes said otherwise.I turned slowly, facing the door, though he couldnât see me. My voice cracked as I spoke:âWhy didnât you tell me⌠that you had sweet sex with Tina? Kenzieâs
The kitchen went utterly still after Catherineâs sharp words.Her voice, though small, carried a weight that silenced everyone.âStop talking to her like that, Kenzie. You donât get to treat her that way. She doesnât deserve it.âKenzie blinked, clearly surprised. For once, she had no quick comeback. The smugness slipped from her face, leaving only tight lips and a hard stare. Catherine, tiny but unyielding, stood her ground, her eyes blazing with quiet defiance.I let the silence linger for a moment before slowly turning to face Kenzieâs friend. She still sat perched on her stool, smirking as if sheâd already won. My chest rose and fell, but when I spoke, my voice was steady, and sharper than glass.âYou know what?â I said, meeting her eyes without flinching. âIâm not even going to argue about what happened in the past. Yeah⌠maybe you had something with Seven. Maybe it was good.âHer smirk widened as if she thought I was surrendering.âBut hereâs the truth,â I went on, my words cutt