Chapter 3

NO MARRIAGE AFTER ALL

Like seriously, I can't believe I just lost my appetite. The hunger was still gnawing at me, but the desire for food? Completely gone.

Was this boy for real, or just another trick to get me talking on the phone?

What kind of game is Kova playing? I muttered to myself.

My phone rang again—a strange number. My whole body tensed, caught in a whirlwind of anger, hurt, and something I didn't want to name.

“Hey!” I answered.

A familiar voice cut through. “It’s Kova Mark. Been calling you for ages, and you’ve refused to pick up. What’s up?” He sounded exasperated, like I'd been the one ghosting him. I called a thousand times and he didn't take my calls until his acclaimed wedding was done.

That flutter hit my chest again. Part of me wanted to drop the call, but I brushed it off.

“You should be with your new wife right now—maybe on the first or second round,” I said, voice cold, hiding the crack underneath.

“I sent you texts, dear. It was a joke. No wedding, nothing like that. I was just playing.”

I froze. *Seriously? You pranked me like that?* The words screamed inside my head. I called a million times, and you couldn't even pick up?

“I don't understand what you mean,” I pretended.

“Story short: no wedding. It was all a joke. The wedding invite was made-up.”

A waterfall unlocked on my face. Tears streamed down before I could stop them.

I buried my face in my free hand.

“Why?” I whispered, voice breaking.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. It was just meant to be fun.”

*Fun? You drove me to lose my hard-saved virginity. You ruined everything.* The thought burned in my chest.

“Kova, why would you do that?”

“I’m sorry, my cutie pie. Just wanted to spice things up.”

“Spice up the moment with a mind-blowing joke like that?”

He chuckled softly. “I’m sorry, dear.”

He had no idea the damage he'd done. I'd fought so hard not to cheat on him, not to let that bad girl inside me out. The only thing holding her back was my flower—untouched. Now it was gone, and I wasn't sure who I was anymore.

I ended the call, switched off the phone. More tears came, rivers soaking my cheeks.

I left the food untouched and collapsed onto the bed, sobbing.

It shocked me—I'd slimmed down in just one day. Slim, hollow, ugly. That must be the appearance of the new beast that awoke me.

Lying there, sleep refused to come. I keep thinking about my life now. How was I supposed to protect myself with all these fine boys everywhere? On the streets, social media, even in the church Mum forced me to attend before she passed.

So many of them were cute—the kind that made me imagine them between my thighs. My restriction had been my virginity, and now? Gone.

Gone so soon.

Gone forever.

I was supposed to be in church today, as part of a family routine, but it's not happening. Not even if Dad was around.

I'd stay indoors, mourn my lost flower for four or five days. Maybe by then I'd recover—physically, emotionally. Maybe.

* * * * * *

The best thing that happened this week was finding the boldness to pick up my scattered pieces, forget the past, and move on.

“LilySaint, my love!” Dora called as I stepped into the church compound. Her face lit up.

I felt a spark of happiness seeing her too, but this would probably be the last time—in this place, at least.

I knew I wasn't coming back after today. Occasional visits maybe, but not like before, when I came dragged and unwilling.

The life I wanted now didn't fit here. And I refused to become the bad example everyone whispered about.

“Hey, baby girl,” I replied, cooler than I meant.

“Come here, my baby. I've missed you more than a cute boyfriend.” She laughed, pulling me in.

I gave her a tight, genuine smile.

Dora was the only one in church I could gist filthy with. She was like my mirror version, but I wasn't dragging her into what I was stepping into.

“I missed you too, my cutie pie,” I said, smirking.

We slipped to the back of the building and sat, gisting, until the service was halfway or three-quarters done.

“Hey,” Dora nudged me, nodding toward someone approaching.

I raised a brow. A tall, cute guy in a face cap headed our way.

Dora and her nonsense—always pointing out guys with fine faces and strong builds.

His face looked familiar. When he got closer, it clicked—he looked even more familiar.

“Hi, lovely ladies,” he said.

“Hi,” Dora waved cheerfully. I stayed quiet—not in the mood for men— not after everything I have been through.

“Hey, you never reached out again?” He looked straight at me.

Shock flickered across my face. “How? Have we met before?” My voice tightened.

“I think so.” A sly smile tugged at his lips.

“You're mistaken,” I said quietly.

He smiled wider, pulled off the cap. Damn. The guy from that heartbreak night.

A cold shiver ran down my spine. He looked even cuter now. I never wanted to see him again.

Anger flashed across my face. He was just another man—besides Kova—who'd left an invisible scar.

“Oh… hi,” I forced a fake cheer, not wanting Dora to catch on.

“I've looked for you everywhere.” His voice was deeper, velvet, more mature than that night.

“Oh… sorry about that.” I rushed on. “Just give me your contact card. I'll call you.” I said. Just something to get him gone.

He shook his head. “You give me yours instead.”

No card. I gestured for his phone, typed my number fast.

“Where did you say you were staying again?”

“Uh… Coke Street,” I lied.

Dora shot me a suspicious side-eye but kept her face straight.

She was too smart not to smell something fishy, but this story stayed mine. I promised myself.

“Thanks.” He turned to leave, then paused. “Your name please?”

Seriously? He never knew even my name and had me, I realized. Men! Anything to make them pour is what mattered the most. Even though I played an active role, it was just all in his plan. He was taking it slow.

I almost lied again, but Dora was listening.

“Lily,” I said—short version. The full name didn't fit what I'd done that night.

“Alright. Talk later. I’m Frank Brucha.” He disappeared.

“Eh… mm,” Dora made that crazy sound.

I forced a laugh.

“Who was that?” she asked. “You never told me you had a sugar daddy already.” Amusement danced in her eyes.

I savored the laugh. “Not what you think.”

“What then?”

“Long story for another time. Let's get inside before we're too late.” I suddenly cared about the service—just to dodge the topic.

Sitting in my seat, staring at the pulpit while the pastor preached to everyone else (I wasn't listening), a text buzzed.

Frank Brucha.

*Very important talk. Please meet me at the same hotel tonight. The same suite. I'd be waiting. Don't miss it.*

Did I just read that right? I reread it.

Talk?

It was never going to be a talk.A sudden unwanted urge for sex flooded into me. Can't believe this feeling coming for the man I never wanted to see again.