Mag-log inFRANK POV "Man, pass me the ice cubes," Michael requested when we were seated on my couch after our heated fight. "I'm not your slave. If you want some, go grab it yourself." I huffed, my head still throbbing. "Your stupid ass wants to fight commando. Next time, think things through before you throw a punch." He laughed despite his swollen lip. "Crazy dude, don't act as if you couldn't feel my punch." I chuckled despite myself. "You punch like a girl. Come for proper training." He made a pitiful face, teasing me. "Then why do you need ice if it doesn't hurt?" I smirked. "It's just a formality. Nothing else." He shrugged, his cocky demeanor returning. "You are so messed up. I wonder what the ladies see in you." I shook my head in disbelief. "What's there not to like? I'm a dream come true, you know." He grinned. "Ah, Awurade, just go grab some ice. I'm tired of your god-complex ass." I waved him off. "I know you feel me." He disappeared into the kitchen and returned moments
FRANK POV I left Raquel's place in the evening after receiving a call from Michael that he was coming over to my apartment. I was still furious at him for breaking Laila's heart. I had accompanied her back to the airport, and she had cried the entire way. Nothing I did could cheer her up. The most infuriating part was Michael's callousness. He hadn't even called to check if she was okay. For fuck's sake, she was practically a stranger in this part of the world. And Laila had kept ranting about how Michael told her he was in love with Raquel. I was convinced it was just his cruel way of getting rid of her for good. There was no way it could be true. Raquel was pregnant with another man's child. The only thing that made me uneasy was Laila's intuition—she was certain Michael hadn't been bluffing. I intended to get the truth from Michael tonight. Laila and I had been texting constantly since she left. Her depression seemed to have lifted, and she was fully back into her modelin
FRANK POV I had been restless ever since I witnessed Raquel and Michael kissing. Beyond pissed off doesn't even begin to cover it. But I didn't have any right to react. She wasn't my woman. Yet I couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal and heartache. She had plainly rejected me when I made my move, using her marriage as an excuse. But here she was, locking lips with Michael. Could it be that the baby she was carrying was his? I shook my head in denial. That couldn't be right. Raquel wasn't the sort of person to do something like that. The kiss must have been a one-time thing. Probably Michael forced himself on her. I intended to find out the full story. I had been ringing her doorbell for about half a minute now, and she still hadn't answered. Just as I was about to ring again, the door swung open. "Oh, hey, Frank." She stepped aside to usher me in. "Sorry for the delay. I was trying to find something decent to wear." "No problem, dear." I stepped inside. "I'm much more concern
MICHAEL POV "How can that be?" The words came out weak, barely a whisper. My mother couldn't have done that. She loved my father. I saw it. I felt it. She was devoted to him despite everything. But the look on his face—the brokenness, the finality—told me he believed what he was saying. "I have been sterile since birth," he continued, his voice heavy. "I only found out a week before our argument." The room spun. I gripped the edge of the couch to steady myself. Sterile. The word echoed in my skull. Not his son. A bastard. "You're lying." My voice was hollow, desperate. "I wish I was." He took another long drink. "I went to the doctor for a routine checkup. They ran tests. When the results came back, they sat me down and explained that I could never father children. Ever." I thought of all the times he had looked at me with pride. All the times he called me his son. All the times I had taken his name for granted. "Did Mum know?" The question came out strangled. "I don't know
MICHEAL POVThunder rumbled and lightning streaked across the sky as rain poured heavily. I immediately stood up from my bed and walked toward the window. I tried to wipe the glass with a duster, clearing the condensation, but no matter how much I cleaned, I couldn't see the compound.It was nearly nine PM, and my father was nowhere in sight. The fact that it was raining and I couldn't reach his phone only increased my anxiety.I knew he was a grown man who could handle himself. But discovering that your own son had been intimate with your wife—that was a blow no man could simply shake off.Even though I dreaded the confrontation that would come when he returned, I knew it was inevitable. I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.I heaved a sigh of relief when his car headlights reflected against my window. He was back. And I knew I was about to face the consequences.I waited upstairs, listening. Minutes passed. No footsteps. No sound.I tiptoed downstairs to check on him. I
MICHAEL POV When I arrived home, Laila was shoving clothes into her suitcase with aggressive, jerky movements. "What are you doing?" I asked, unsure how to react. "What does it look like? I'm leaving, Michael. For good." She didn't look up. "You just got out of the hospital. You should at least recover before you go." She stopped packing and turned to face me. Tears glistened in her eyes. "Is that all you have to say? I was expecting you to beg me to stay. I can see you can't wait to get rid of me. I should have known better." "Laila, don't do this. Don't make it seem like this is all my fault." I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. I hated seeing her cry. "How is it my fault, Michael? I tried everything to make this work, but you just wouldn't respond." "It's not about now. It's about then." I kept my voice calm. "You always chose your career over us. We never spent quality time together. It killed what we had. Now, all I feel for you is friendship. Nothing more." "We
I sat on Nelly's kitchen counter, the only sound in the room the furious chop of her knife against the cutting board. Neither of us spoke. Each of us was lost in our own world, but I could feel her anger radiating from across the kitchen. She sliced the onions with exaggerated force, as if they ha
Three weeks had passed since my husband returned from his trip. Michael remained in the States, recovering, and Dr. Yeboah had come back alone. He was moodier than I had ever seen him—colder, distant. Most of his time was spent locked in the study, and we exchanged only a handful of words each day
The house was eerily quiet when I returned. The only sound was a muffled noise coming from the kitchen area. My heart began to pound. I grabbed a knife from the dining table, my grip tight and sweaty, and crept toward the source of the noise. What I saw made the knife slip from my fingers. It cla
“Will you stop moving? You can’t walk on that,” he admonished, his tone firm.I stilled, reluctantly looping my arms around his neck for stability, my eyes fixed determinedly on anything but his face. I could feel the firm strength of his muscles as he carried me effortlessly down the hall to my be







