Chapter 7: The Ghost of Stolen Kisses

As I was walking around the Estate, I noticed a particular way people looked it me. Weird, strange, pitiful. I wasn’t just imagining it.

They all knew.

Word spreads, and it spread fast. I think I perhaps may have underestimated the power of the past and of memories. Every media savvy person would know about me and Zane’s failed relationship, and gossip spreads like a wildfire. Curiosity was etched in their gazes, and I knew they were looking out for any sign to show that I was crumbling. Former bride-to-be turned wedding planner.

And then, the rumors. The elephant in the room. There were whispers everywhere.

“He doesn’t remember anything before the accident,” one of the coordinators whispered to another when they thought I was out of earshot. “Total blackout. Poor man.”

“He’s lucky he doesn’t remember the scandal,” the other whispered back. “Imagine waking up to your entire legacy in ruins.”

“And the wedding planner, isn’t she the one who…” the voice cut off.

“Yeah. The mixed lady, right? She did all that to him and then she comes back into his life five years later? So shameless.”

“I heard Ms. Voss hired her as payback. She gets to watch the love of her life get married to her former best friend. That’s crazy.”

I didn’t breathe until I’d turned the corner.

I held my head up high and focused on the other type of rumor, the one about Zane Blackwood’s amnesia. There were whispers about the car accident, a brief coma, selective memory loss. It wasn’t anything concrete, but it was enough to create a narrative and to give an excuse as to why the groom couldn’t recall the woman who had once torn his heart in pieces.

None other than Miss Amarachi Samantha Ibe.

Me.

##

Later that afternoon, I took a wrong turn while searching for Leah to talk over some decisions about the food and I ended up in one of the upper hallways. The corridor was quiet, and the oil paintings that lined the walls were a much welcome distraction from the whole Zane-Sera situation.

And then I heard it, soft laughter. Hers. His.

I froze.

Zane and Sera stood by the tall windows. Their posture was picturesque, her hand resting on his chest, his fingers curled round her waist, their silhouettes bathed in golden light. She tilted her head up towards him, a welcome invitation. And he learned his head towards her.

My heart thudded. Oh my God! Was he going to kiss her?

Zane leaned in closer. Their lips were almost brushing.

And then…

Their lips met in a slow, intimate kiss. Zane fingers tightened around her waist and pulled her even closer to him. And the sounds they were making… I felt nauseous. The kiss wasn’t rushed or mechanical, and that was the final nail to the coffin of my past relationship with Zane.

As much as I hated to admit it, as much as I wanted to find flaws in their relationship, they kept proving me wrong. I wished it looked fake. I wished there was any hint of it being contractual. But Zane was into the kiss as much as Sera was. It was a stab wound straight to my heart. My eyes started to prick me.

I chastised myself. No, I wouldn’t cry. I definitely wouldn’t cry.

I stepped back quickly, my heart hammering in my ears. I didn’t notice the potted plant beside me, and my wedges hit the ceramic and make a loud noise. The couple pulled apart and turned to me.

My eyes locked with Sera’s. Her lips curved upwards in a small smirk. “The wedding planner, right?” Sera asked, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“My apologies. I lost my way. You can carry on.” I didn’t know why I apologized. God. I wanted the ground to open up for me to disappear.

“It’s fine,” Sera said. She turned to Zane. “Isn’t it, baby? It’s best that Ms. Ibe sees us having a natural romantic moment so that she knows how best to portray our relationship through the wedding.”

“Yeah,” I said. I didn’t trust myself to say anything else.

We stared at each other for a while. I could feel Zane’s eyes on me. He was looking at me, but I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t.

Sera spoke up. “Do you mind excusing us? Me and my fiancè were… engaged in an activity before you interrupted us.”

I didn’t say anything in reply. Nodding, I spun on my heel and walked away. When I finally turned round the corner, I reclined on the wall and took a deep breath.

And another.

And another.

##

I confronted Zane that very day.

I didn’t even knock the door. I just barged in with so much force that his assistant shook and stared at me. Zane casually looked up and raised a brow. He caught the look on my face and nodded to his assistant.

“Please excuse us.”

The assistant vanished out of the office in two seconds and the door clicked shut behind her with a soft, final thud. Zane didn’t move from behind his desk. He sat there, fingers steepled, dark eyes unreadable. The office was dimly lit with lamplight pooling across polished wood, casting long shadows.

I stood in front of him, every nerve on fire. “You’re marrying Rosa?”

“Sera,” he corrected. “The least you could do is get my fiancée’s name right.”

“You hated her.”

He tilted his head. “Did I?”

“You’ve had your fun,” I said quietly. “Now tell me why you're really pretending not to remember me.”

He paused, looking at me. “How’s your ankle?”

“Stop changing the topic.”

“How. Is. Your. Ankle?” he repeated slowly.

How infuriating! My fists hit the table with a loud thud. “I said, stop changing the damn topic!”

A slow, almost amused breath escaped his lips. “Okay. I’m not pretending to not remember you, Amara.”

The way he said my name low and deliberate made something coil hot and tight in my stomach. I hated that it still did that. I stepped forward. “We were more than just a memory you can misplace.”

“Were we?” His eyes lifted to mine. “Because I don’t recall ever taking you to bed. Or calling you mine.”

I froze. The sting landed before I could shield myself.

He rose from his chair slowly, like a predator tasting the shift in air before a kill. Every movement was measured. He came around the desk, stopping inches from me. I had to tilt my head to meet his gaze.

“Funny,” he murmured. “You seem to remember everything quite vividly.”

“You’re playing games,” I whispered. “And dragging Sera into this? Into us?”

His hand came up, not touching, but hovering. The heat of it near my jaw sent a shiver down my spine. He didn’t have to touch me to burn. “There is no us,” he said. “You’re just the wedding planner, remember?”

Anger was boiling red hot in my veins. I wasn’t thinking. I raised up my palm and slapped him.