THREE

CHAPTER THREE 

By the time I got home, I was shaking but halted when I saw the car Donovan takes to work parked by the car park. I instantly fixed myself. My hair, my dress, everything that felt out of place. Then I entered casually as though I was returning from a professional meeting.

He was by the dining table when I walked in. Maria, the cook, was setting the table.

His gaze slid to me when he heard my footsteps. A smile appeared on his face. “Hey, my dear. How are you? How was your day?”

I managed a smile. “It was fine. Yours?”

“Stressful. Managing a company has never been easy.”

I nodded.

“Come,” he tapped the chair beside him, “come sit, let’s eat. Maria made dinner.”

I sat gently, pretending to be interested.

Creamy truffle pasta with grilled chicken, creamy mushroom soup, strawberry cheesecake, and champagne all set on the table, and my stomach still twisted, not in hunger but in anxiety.

I didn’t know where to start from with the letters. I last saw them eight years ago.

I managed to take four bites of my meal and sipped down some champagne, then I went to the master bedroom. After having a fresh shower and getting into my nightie, I laid on the bed and sprawled on it, ready to receive Donovan.

He smirked when he stepped into the bedroom to find me sprawled, ready to receive him.

He kissed me first, then I returned it, moving my mouth over his full lips gently, letting down his robe and leaving him in just his briefs. Then I got up slightly, removed my own nightie robe, then the top of my nightie, my breasts in full display, leaving myself in just panties.

As I leaned back to lay on the bed, an explosion rattled the walls. Donovan jumped and looked around anxiously. Three cars in the car park began whirring their alarms from afar.

Donovan grabbed his robe in a hurry and wore it back. “Stay here, I’ll be back.” He said, his voice half-anxious, half-confident.

I stood frozen, not because of the explosion but because I knew who did it. And just like I pretended, Storm stepped into the room in his earlier attire but this time the denim jacket was off.

He came up behind me, his vanilla scent engulfing my senses as he leaned into me to whisper in my ear, “Did you find the letters?”

“No,” I replied, my voice cracking.

He swirled me around, naked in only my panties, just like that. He had a cigarette between his lips.

He took the cigarette out and blew out a smoke. “Three days.”

I nodded.

He grabbed a chair, placed it before the bed and sat on it. “My dad will take a while before he returns. Lay down and sleep, I want to watch you.”

I swallowed and climbed onto the bed, grabbing the duvet in trembling hands to cover myself.

“Without the covers.” He muttered, blowing a smoke, head thrown back as he stared deeply at me.

I laid still, without the covers, breathing out nervously.

The next day, I went on an intense rampage, abandoning the small bakery I planned to reopen that week.

My house was my first stop. When I saw mom’s car, I rolled my eyes.

“What do you want?” she barked the minute I stepped through the doors.

“I’m looking for something,” I said as I climbed up the wooden stairs to my room.

“Like what?” she demanded, as she followed behind me, a facial mask making her look like an entirely different person.

“Something I forgot,” I said in a hurry, bursting into my room which has now been turned into a small store, but my old shelf from when I was still a teacher stood untouched. I began searching every book.

“You should give me a heads-up before coming here. This place is no longer your house and it’s no longer mine, too. I sold it.”

I paused and threw her a glare. “Really? Daddy spent a fortune to build this house.”

She looked around dramatically. “And where is he?” She paused dramatically and cracked a sarcastic smile. “Right. Six feet below us.”

“Really? You are ridiculous.”

“What is ridiculous is why you suddenly care about your father.”

“I didn’t ‘suddenly’ care about him. We’ve been close since—” I paused, deciding that it was a waste of breath. “You know what? Never mind.” I continued my search.

“Anyway, remind your husband of the apartment in Cinnamon Villa he promised before that particular apartment on the 23rd floor is taken. Lily is starting to think I’m lying.”

“Why not ask him yourself?” I grabbed a vocabulary textbook I often used back then and flipped through the pages. Nothing!

“Well, the whole point of your marriage is to be my mouthpiece to your husband, no?”

I paused. “No! The whole point is—” I turned to her. “Have you even ever asked how I felt about this marriage? If I wanted this or not? If I was in love with him or not?”

She eyed me and burst out laughing. Literally, laughing in my face.

“Honey, you are forty-what? Two? Three? You still want to fall in love at this old age? You should be grateful not only a man but a wealthy man like that looked your way.”

“Take everything you need because I’m throwing them away today. The buyers would be coming any moment now.” She paused by the door and looked at me. “Remind your husband of the Cinnamon Villa. I will get homeless in like a week.”

Then she left.

I knew if she had said those words to me like five years ago, I would have sat on the floor and broken down. But over the years, I had learnt to take the stabs of her words, and I don’t know whether to feel relieved or even more sad.

The search at my place was useless so I went to the next stop and as a cab took me there, I prayed silently that I would not bump into Martha or Jolene. Thankfully, I didn’t. But they were demolishing the place already. They had already demolished all the way to the living room.

“Who are you?” the supervisor of the demolishing with mysteriously cracked lips had demanded.

“Uhm, I-I am the ex-wife of the—”

“Please, leave.” He interrupted.

“Uhm, please. I have some stuff in there that might be very important. I—”

“We took out all the stuff, check by the bin. The trash company is about to pick them up.”

“Oh, thank you.” I quickly made it towards the bin. Lo and behold, there was some old stuff from my collection. It was just my stuff, I guess Martha had packed the ones that belonged to Raymond.

I bent and began my search. When my fingers brushed a soft texture and I pulled out the letters, I almost went on my knees to thank the universe.

The same unique black shade of the envelopes of the letters he sent. Although I only saw a few, I gathered those and shoved them into my bag.

As I set to return home from the adventure, I realized that Storm was very detailed, he could remember the exact amount of love letters he sent to me and send me back to look for the rest.

Then I recalled I had stuffed some of them in a textbook on my last day at the school and shoved it between the books in the library.

So I went to my final location, hopeful nobody had tampered with it and it was still intact. Eight years, foolish move, I know, but I was still hopeful so I set for there. I didn’t know what to tell them I was searching for but I pretended to just be visiting.

The school was still the same, the only thing that changed were the faces. But I recognised one as I walked down the hall and he was suddenly on a wheelchair. I paused, confused. The last time I checked, both of his legs were intact.

Damson, my ex-boyfriend, who used to be a fine-art teacher. I guess he probably still is.

He wheeled his electronic wheelchair to a stop before me.

“Look who we have here.” He glared.

That even confused me more because he ghosted me and stopped talking to me, I should be the one throwing him a glare.

“If it’s not Storm North’s plaything.” He continued, disdain in his tone.

“What?” I echoed. “What does that mean?”

“The sex must be good because I had to do surgery to be able to live.”

“What are you talking about, Damson?”

“Storm heard our conversation that day before you quit. He heard me call you a bitch and he decided to teach me a lesson.” He scoffed. “I thought he was joking until he tied me to a tree and beat my legs until I dislocated my bones.”

My jaw fell.

“The sex must have been great. I was too scared to report you, a teacher fucking her own student. But now that you’ve showed up, my revenge is revived. I’ll make sure you and your boyfriend regret ever putting me in this state. Just wait and see.” He spat with contempt as he rolled his wheelchair away, leaving me standing at the center of the hall, jaw dropped open.

Well, I guess my curiosity on why Damson had ghosted me had been satisfied but at what cost?