Mira
The smile on my face abruptly vanished as I gasped in horror. My tank top was nearly saturated by warm coffee that had been hurled at me, cascading from my hair to the floor. Luckily, it wasn’t scalding “How dare you!” I screamed at the lady who wore a mocking smile. She erupted into laughter, as though something were amusing, and I could discern the ridicule laced within that laugh. “Oh, did I strike a nerve? Don’t you know me? You filthy whore,” she spat angrily in my face. I rose to my feet, the force causing my chair to screech loudly against the floor. I glared at the woman with so much anger that, had looks the power to kill, she’d have been six feet under. How dare she label me whore? I seized the bottle of water on the table, ready to douse it on the equally raging woman when I suddenly stopped. An epiphany coursed through my mind. I swiftly connected the dots and was certain this was the face I had once seen on Henry’s phone. He had her contact saved as “My Elixir.” I had been suspicious at first, but he claimed she was his cousin, dispelling all my doubts. “You are really shameless. Well, since you want to play the fool, let’s do it. I am Vanessa, the fiancée of the man you’ve been sleeping with.” At this point, her voice was so loud it attracted the attention of everyone in the café. She saw my bewildered look and smirked. “Henry is my fiancé.” My mind went blank, and I became as pale as a ghost. Henry was my man, and I had never doubted him. Who the hell is this woman claiming to be his fiancée? I glanced at my phone and saw that the call had ended. Mere minutes ago, I had been speaking with Henry via video call, I had smiled happily when he informed me of his arrival later this evening—until I felt liquid sear against my skin. “Your fiancé?” The words were difficult to utter, but I needed confirmation. “Henry is my man, my fiancé, you whore!” She pulled out her phone from her bag and shoved it in my face. My world slowed down as I saw a picture of her displaying a ring on her finger, while Henry held her close, affectionately pressing a kiss to her hair. Murmuring and whispering erupted from every corner of the café. I heard the snickering and subtle insults. I could only stare at her in shock. I held onto my chair for support as she ignored my already pale face, showing me more of their pictures. With each new image, her words became harder to deny. It was all real. For a few seconds, I couldn’t hear her voice—only a loud ringing in my ears and the pounding of my heart against my ribcage. This was real. “You’re pretending like you don’t know he has me, you shameless prostitute. We’ve been together for three years, and I won’t let a bitch like you ruin all my efforts. So scurry back to the hole you came from.” She pointed her finger in my face. “Stay away from my man, slut. I’m warning you—protect your life and stay away from him, or you’ll get worse than this. Whore.” She flung the empty coffee cup at me and stormed out. I stared hard at my shoes as her words echoed in my head. I remained frozen in that position for a long time. When I finally raised my head, numerous stares and mocking gestures met me. All eyes were on me, and I felt shame crawl down my spine, spreading to every part of my body. I clearly heard an old lady say I hadn’t been “properly dealt with,” while others laughed along. The humiliation was unbearable. With the speed of lightning, I grabbed my bag and ran out as the jeers grew louder behind me. “Hey, wait! Excuse me, miss, please wait!” I knew someone was trying to get my attention, but I was too broken to stop. Maybe it was one of those café customers pretending to offer sympathy. I quickened my pace, walking as fast as I could. “Miss, you haven’t paid!” It was the waitress. I stopped and turned to her with glassy eyes, holding back my tears with whatever pride I could muster, as I rummaged through my bag for some notes. I paid her and continued walking, taking long strides. The tears came rushing down, my hair shielding my face as I cried quietly. I kept walking aimlessly—my mind completely blank. The loud honking of a car jolted me back to reality. “Get off the road, crazy lady!” the driver shouted angrily. I snapped out of my daze and saw his furious face. Looking around, I realized I had wandered onto a busy road, with cars honking at me. I immediately ran to the other side. I kept my head down to avoid the questioning stares from passersby. It was then I noticed my hands trembling, my entire body shaking, and my tears still flowing. I was breaking down emotionally in the middle of a street. With trembling hands, I called Laura before things spiraled further out of control. It’s been three days since Laura brought me to her place, and I had only sunk deeper into heartbreak and endless sobbing. I barely spoke, ate very little, and never left the house. Luckily, I was on a one-week leave from work. Laura had called in an emergency at her workplace so she could spend two days with me for comfort. “Drink this. I made it to help with that headache you’ve been complaining about. It should lift your mood too.” I turned my head slowly to see Laura carrying a tray with a mug on it. To avoid her nagging, I sat up and accepted the drink. She sat quietly beside me. “Why don’t we go out so you can loosen up?” “Don’t bother, I’m good,” I replied, my voice cracked and my throat sore. “You are a mess, dear. You need to get out of this mood—he isn’t worth it.” At her words, tears welled up in my eyes. Henry had been too good—too perfect. He seemed far too much for me, too right, as if I didn’t deserve someone as complete as he was. We had been perfect together. Nothing was wrong… until suddenly everything was. “Why, Laura? Why?” I teared up for the umpteenth time that day. “I loved him so much. I did everything right. I gave him all of me, and all I get is lies and manipulation. All this time, I’ve been dating someone’s fiancé—how?” Laura pulled me into her embrace, resting her chin on my head. “Some people are just good at pretending and lying. He’s a scumbag who abused your emotions, and I still can’t believe all of this mess.” “Or maybe he fell in love with me genuinely, and it was hard for him to call off the engagement…” The moment the words left my mouth, I realized how dumb and foolish I sounded. What was wrong with me? “So you’re making excuses for him? You’re clearly delusional. The fact is, you met this man a year ago and you two started something. He cheated on his fiancée by being with you. He lied about her being his sister, and you continued until she found out about you. You’d still be living a lie if she hadn’t confronted you. And you’re sitting here crying, making flimsy excuses for a liar and a cheat? Really?” Her voice was sharp with annoyance. Her words cut deep, and I sobbed harder—this time for having such foolish thoughts about a man who hadn’t even called me since it all happened. “Have you even thought about the woman who tried to skin you alive? She’s the real victim. Put yourself in her shoes and feel what she felt. No wonder she was ready to burn your skin,” Laura said bluntly. She wanted me to hate him. “I haven’t thought about her at all. How did he do it? Cheating on his fiancée and making me feel like I was everything to him? Who knows—he might have married her and still kept me by his side. Guess I was too dumb to notice anything. Not even an instinct. Nothing seemed suspicious.” “He was just too good at playing his cards. Drink up—we leave in twenty minutes.” Laura left the room while I stared into space. Where had my feminine instinct been? Did he ever love me? If our relationship had progressed further, would he have asked me to marry him? We had once discussed marriage, and he seemed tense. That was the last time I brought it up. I had wanted him to mention it when he was ready. I sat on the bed, my head heavy with questions.Mira I stood by the window, waiting. He would drive in soon. It was almost eight, his usual time. I silently prayed he’d be sober or exhausted. I walked back to the sofa and sat on the edge, nervous, my hands fidgeting. Then I heard it—the sound of the engine as he drove into the garage. I stood immediately, rooted in place until the loud banging on the door made me move. “Mira, Mira!” He shouted my name. That only meant one thing. He was drunk, again. I dragged my feet to the door. I didn’t open immediately because I was scared, but the banging came again, louder this time. I braced myself. When I opened the door, his eyes were bloodshot, his breathing ragged. I stood face to face with my nightmare... My eyes snapped open and I sat up. The night was chilling, but I was sweating from the dream. It had been so long since I dreamt of him. Francis—my toxic ex, my first relationship, the one that broke me. I was young, loved with my whole heart, and ended up shattered. Those memories
Mira The sharp ringing of my phone woke me up. I rubbed my fingers across my eyes and blinked at who could be calling at such an hour. I glanced at the alarm clock on my bedside table—it was past three in the morning. I needed sleep. I had drunk a lot alone yesterday. The screen only displayed numbers, no name. I was skeptical about answering such a call, but I did anyway, just like yesterday. “Hello… Anyone?” My throat felt suddenly dry. I had an eerie feeling because I could clearly hear the rustling of things from the other end. The silence was deliberate. I kept my mouth shut. It was the only wise thing I could do. The other end went quiet, the rustling had stopped. I felt anxious and distraught. I sat up waiting, waiting for a sound, but it was too quiet. Then I heard a sharp breath before the line went dead. What just happened? I quickly checked and saw it was the same number that had called me the previous day. This wasn’t a client—business could wait. I suddenly felt appre
Mira He came with ill luck. I grunted, frustration bubbling as my design sketches fell apart again. Then there was Ken—of course it was him. He had come here to distract me. I was surprised to see him. He lingered by the door, careful, cautious—as if treading on eggshells. I kept my head bent, flipping through project notes, but from the corner of my eye I watched him. Superiority clung to him like cologne, that effortless composure he wore even when uncertain. He thought he could rattle me. Thought his little games might soften me. He was mistaken. My heart was steel, impenetrable. Whatever he took me for, I would not dance to his tune. I gathered the documents in front of me and headed to Clara’s office. She needed to sign them as Director of Operations. Clara was predictable; she would sign without question, as she always did. Sometimes I wondered if she even read my work or if she simply trusted my competence. Or maybe she lacked the skill to vet it. At her door, I stopped.
Ken She walked out with that same irritated look she always tried to hide, leaving me craving more of her scent. The magazine in my hand was only camouflage—a reason to linger until every employee left. I hadn’t noticed she was still around until then. Stressed, yet still radiating that smart-woman aura. Mira detested me in every conversation, and I couldn’t figure out why. I’d caught glimpses of the real her, but with me she was all calculation. The company’s reports didn’t lie. Since she joined, productivity had spiked. She was exceptional—a force behind Gigs’ rising success. But my presence here wasn’t as simple as I let on. Posing as an intern was just a façade Bernard and I agreed on. In truth, I’d come from Voughan Digital’s head office to train staff and evaluate employees. Most hadn’t impressed me. Some were bossy with the “new intern,” others unhelpful. If I were sentimental, I’d lump Mira in with them—but I knew better. What Bernard didn’t know was a more deeper truth
Mira The worst had happened. The week hadn’t been pleasant for me — stressful days at work and little things triggering painful memories. I felt blue all through, but nothing could have been more devastating than hearing from the most trivial source that Henry had quietly wedded his fiancée. I couldn’t believe my ears when Kent, a bartender at one of the bars Henry and I often frequented, told me they had served drinks at his wedding two weeks ago. He even showed me photos from the event. The bastard’s smile was bright as the sun — a smile that reached his eyes and made his face slightly red. His hand was around his bride’s waist, the other holding a plate of cake. The bride was Vanessa. I couldn’t help but hate her. This man never loved me. That smile… that was love. Kent went on and on about how shocked he was that I wasn’t the bride, which made me flush with shame. He described how Henry and his bride seemed so in love, how the wedding was small but lavish. His words soon beca
Mira Three months had slipped by in a blur. Today made it exactly three months since I last saw Henry’s face on my phone screen—three months without a single call from the bastard. I’d begun to heal from the heartbreak. It had taken a toll on me in more ways than I could count, nearly breaking me mentally. I stood in front of the mirror, staring hard at my reflection. I saw a woman who was smart at everything—except when it came to making the simple, better decision to walk away from a toxic relationship. I’d been blind to lies that had been staring me right in the face. Finally, I did something difficult: I moved out of the apartment Henry had gotten me. It was the only way to avoid the memories that might drag me back into depression. It hurt to leave—this was the place where most of my visions for the future had begun to take shape, and I’d loved it. Almost everything in it—appliances, furniture, household items—he’d bought for me. Henry had always claimed he wanted me comfor