Believe Them

Aria’s POV:

He turned, our gazes met, and just when I thought it was only polite that I at least smile or wave at him, he shifted his gaze back to Mr Walters.

“Your table is ready,” the server said. She directed us to a table which was a few tables away from Liam Styles.

“Oh my…” Ava gasped with her gaze on him; I had to pinch her before she looked away. “He is like…you know that man you dream of when you are sixteen? The one you wish your future husband to look like, but you know it’s impossible because it’s just your imagination,” she explained so vividly, and I chuckled lightly.

Not because it was funny, but because she was right… I still wonder if he is real or just a drawing.

“You mean the type of man I dream of?” Sam muttered, and Ava glared at her again. I just loved when she got angry when her sister talked about men.

“Okay, can we focus on why we are here?” I suggested, even when it was pretty hard to concentrate on the menu, I desperately wanted to know more about him; I wanted to know how he felt watching his father get wronged by the whole country.

We went through the menu and ordered our meals, which arrived shortly. We started eating, and soon our focus was now on the taste of the food.

“Let’s ask the servers to get the chef; this is a great opportunity to have a closer look at him,” Sam suggested, and Ava stood up angrily, then she mistakenly pushed the whipped cream, and it fell on my thighs.

“Ava,” I pouted and stood up, picked up the napkin and tried cleaning it off my dress, but it only got worse.

“I am so sorry.” Ava handed me another napkin. I shook my head in denial and stared around; everyone’s gaze was on us.

“I will head to the restroom and try to get rid of it.” I took a few steps before turning back to them. “Don’t kill Sam when I am gone,” I warned jokingly before finding my way to the restroom.

Poured some water on the napkin and tried cleaning off the cream on my dress.

After much effort the stain was slightly gone; I could walk to my car with this.

I stepped out and bumped into someone. “Ouch,” I winced in pain as my head hit the stranger’s hard chest.

I massaged my temple, looked up and discovered it was Liam. “I am sorry,” he apologised and turned to leave when I blocked his path.

“Anything?” He raised a brow; I stared at him for a while but had nothing to say.

I shook my head in denial, stepped aside and let him get into the male restroom.

“Why was he behaving like that night was nothing?” I pouted, leant by the wall and brushed my hair with my fingers.

I was in deep thought; the door pulled open, and Liam stepped out. He looked a little surprised, spotting me in the same spot he left me.

And I didn’t want to keep asking myself questions I couldn’t answer; it was better to let him answer that.

“I…we, we got intimate, but you only searched for me because of your shirt…”

“I am not some prostitute,” I clarified. He must have thought of me as one, and that’s why he thought it wasn’t worth searching about me; he only did two weeks later when he discovered I had his shirt.

Liam slipped his hand into his pockets and leant against the wall opposite me. “When I got into the bedroom and couldn’t find you, I asked my men to do some research about you,” he started, and I felt the knot in my stomach loosen. He did some research on me, so it meant something.

“Aria Nicole, writer of The Hero in My Nightmare, Love and Tribulations, and Under the Sunset with Mr. Right,” he added, and I smiled softly; he knew about my books… Well, those were just a few of my books, the most popular ones.

“I read a lot, so I have much respect for writers.” Liam retracted his hand from his pocket; he held a brown key holder and kept staring at it.

“But after reading your books, I realised there was no need to search for you.”

What did he mean by that?

My brows creased; his gaze finally moved to me. “Because you are just fake,” he spouted, and my eyes widened in shock; my fist clenched as I felt my eyes become sore.

I was fake; he said I was fake. He didn’t know me; he knows nothing about me but called me fake?

Did my books give him such an impression about me?

And for the second time in a day, he turned his back and left without giving further explanations on what he meant.

It wasn’t worth searching for me.

I was fake.

I am fake.

Fake. Fake. Fake.

Fictionous, the worst writer alive. I didn’t deserve any prise or fame; I was just some fake writer.

I crouched to the ground as countless tears rolled down my cheeks.

Some footsteps approached me; it was Ava, and she crouched to my level. “What happened?”

I cleaned my tears and stood up. “I…I just want to go home.”

“Did someone say something to you? Is it because I ruined your dress?”

“Can you both please find your way home?” I stood up with a pleading look.

Ava nodded and rubbed my cheeks. “We will get a cab; don’t worry about us. Just go home and have a sound sleep, okay?”

I nodded and walked past her, got back to the restaurant section, and Liam was back to his original space and didn’t even spare me a glance.

Walked to our table and picked up my car keys. “Big sister, what happened?” Sam questioned.

“I have a headache and will head home first; you girls go on and eat.” I forced a smile before heading to my car. Got in and closed the door before closing my eyes.

It was known that once a person says something about you, then it could be out of hatred, jealousy or just with the intention to hurt you, but when two unrelated people say the same thing, then believe them.

All this while, I was the problem in my marriage. Caleb had every right to cheat on me; I was just some fake wife.

I burst out in tears, clutched my chest tightly… How fake was I? I didn’t understand what he meant, but it must be so bad.