The dinner dragged on for the sake of my misery.

But I did my best to hold a stiff expression, leaving as soon as we were dismissed, mostly to avoid whining in the Lupins’ sorry faces.

Another reason is so that I could be home earlier to watch from the torment of my window whether Zeath would bring the bitch back home.

I only now grasp the last string of trust I have in him to think he wouldn’t.

I mean, he should consider better than to treat me in such a manner, even though his recent actions have dipped my dignity in shite.

As I entered my vehicle, I caught him opening his car door for his prat. And he didn’t glance my way one second before joining her and zooming off.

Surely, the dust from his tires settling on my windshield was a petty move forcing me to savor my shame.

“Take me home,” I told my driver, who stared at me rather pitifully through the rearview mirror.

I didn’t ask for pity and won’t, though I’m quick to cry, which is seen as a weakness or, in some cases, blackmail.

Even now, I’m battling to force back one as I stand by the window like I wanted, waiting for my husband to arrive.

I haven’t moved an inch since I reached home two hours ago.

And I bet the birds occasionally stopping by to bully their reflections would soon discover my presence and think, ‘Oh, squawk! There’s a squawk Hooman. A pathetic one at that!’

They won’t be wrong.

Once I spot Zeath’s car riding into the garage, I hurry out of the room.

My heels are hurting, but I don’t care. What’s more painful than slamming a hammer on a person’s heart, anyway?

I pause in front of the room when I hear him coming up. Each footfall that creaks on the staircase earns a sharp sigh from me.

And I can’t tell what the punishment is between holding my breath or letting myself sniff Zeath’s potent patchouli scent—minty, velvety, warm; but also capable of trapping its victim in a hazy cavity of lust, which, when not quenched, leads to sexual frustration.

Exactly what I’m feeling right now. Let’s also not forget to add my exasperation from Zeath’s ruthless display, as well as agitation at the reality I find myself in.

I don’t know how my legs moved me to the staircase landing. I only realize I’m there when the top of Zeath’s head appears below.

He’s taking quite the time to come up when the spiral staircase covers just two floors.

Does it have something to do with me? Maybe he’s reconsidering his choice of coming home.

Surely, some baby daddies prefer to be with their baby mama. Now it makes me wish so badly that I was the latter.

Zeath has a few more steps to cover but suddenly stops after noticing me, succumbing to a discontent grunt.

Assessing him from crown to sole, he seems tired.

The suit jacket he had during dinner must have been abandoned somewhere—I know where. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing his veiny arms. And his torso snatches every inch of the shirt. I swear, it doesn’t leave any jolly. Even the buttons can’t handle him.

His pants cling to his lower limbs, especially around his heavy thighs. What amazes me every time is the usual protruding outline of his crotch that gives me tingles whenever I set my eyes on it.

I can’t believe how much I want to kiss him. His slightly full lips always carried a relish that left me heady. Now they’re drawing me, causing my sight to ripple in twos as my hand hastens to grip the rail.

Or I’m probably exhausted.

“You’re not in bed,” Zeath’s calm voice bounces over the walls.

I want to give a snappy response like, ‘Yeah, since when did we sleep at barely 8 pm?’ But my tongue has rolled behind itself.

Instead, I make a move.

Before I can stop myself, I’m going down the staircase, stopping at the same level as Zeath and letting my hands caress him from his abdomen to his chest before leaning on him.

I tiptoe and try to kiss him. He doesn’t even avoid me since he’s so tall I can’t reach him.

Usually, he’s the one who inclines to my height. Now he seems irritated at my approach.

Yet, I don’t care. He’s just tired; that’s it.

I climb two more steps before tiptoeing again. This time, I reach him. But as I try to pry his lips open, he doesn’t allow me, so I resort to sucking them.

After a few seconds of poking a wall, he finally lets me in.

It’s not like I wanted, however. Zeath grabs my jaws roughly and kisses me so hard he might have even bitten my lips.

He’s aggressive, not how I’m used to.

He had always been soft with me; asked me from time to time if I felt comfortable.

Now he’s just a beast salvaging what he can from an already wrecked cabin that tries to hold out a snowstorm.

And I’m the wrecked cabin.

“Get as greedy as you want,” he groans against my lips. “Because this will be your last.”

I wrench myself from his clasp, nearly stumbling on the step behind me. Breathing profusely, caressing my lips with my index finger, I stare in awe at the man.

He’s changed. Too much and too short a period. Whatever happened?

We were... happy. Our marriage was fulfilling, and Zeath was so supportive and understanding of the fact that we couldn’t have sex until we were three years into the marriage.

How he’s forgotten all we had still amazes me.

He walks past me, and after a moment of recovery, I follow his scent to find him in the room, undressing in front of the wardrobe.

Loitering about the entrance, I watch as he puts on his silk black pajamas, slides the closet door shut, but stands there.

Then the words bleed through my throat. “Did you ever love me?” That was painful to ask, as much as I’m aware the answer will steer the same effect.

“No,” he simply replies. “I would never, even if I were cursed.” His words drive chills down my spine, making me question whether witchery is real because now I see its evidence.

“For me, it’s someone who can sniff and bring to life their purpose. Someone with potential,” he continues before turning around to approach me while I’m stuck where I stand. “Not one who dwells in a fantasy, who thinks she can stumble on a prince, kiss his face, and claim him.”

Zeath has covered the space between us. That was quick, yet not nearly as fleeting as my heartbeats.

He looks down at me, his voice falling so deep it scratches my brain. “Admit it, you never really loved me. You are just an obsessed cockatoo.” It’s not only the voice, though; I believe confusion’s messing my brain as well. Because, at this point, Zeath makes no sense.

“Do you know how much I wished you wouldn’t come near me, even... touch me?” he drones on. “All those cuddles, kisses, and affection? They all made my skin crawl—like a troll embracing its victim before gobbling them. One can only imagine how much it stinks. You’re no different.”

He emphasizes every consonant sound in the sentence, each v’s, b’s, and g’s causing me to flinch. “You merely caught my attention because you were a self-absorbed twonk, and we needed to test if you even had the heart to love another.”

“We?” I croak out. Then Zeath lifts his hand to my face.

I recoil at first. Still, I don’t change my stance of horror as his fingers trail gently along my face.

“Poor Mellow, it’s all a dare, a gratifying one. My boys at school thought it was fun to break the stone-cold girl. I thought the same too when I approached you... pfft... three years ago? Now this staleness you call marriage has grown so... loud.”

His eyes glint with pure poison, and his voice no better. The disgust in both is evident. “It’s always been Yolie, for me. She’s someone you can never be. And as we speak, my marriage to her is in order. Divorce or not, the choice is yours.”

‘The choice is yours.’

That keeps ringing in my head, tingling in my gums, and torturing me to stay still.

I can’t believe the stuff I’ve just heard. Are they even real? Is this the true Zeath? I hope it’s all just a dream. I hope my husband will wake up tomorrow, kiss me good morning, and draw me into his embrace like he always did.

My eyes well up at that thought. I watch through the tears as Zeath gathers two pillows and a blanket before moving past me, but my voice stops him at the threshold.

“So... that’s how it is.” The dawn of realization—it’s like cold water washed over me. “Yolie,” I utter, my voice still shaky. “The same Yolie from high school that I know. A total bully and failure. Always had her mom come yapping at the principal whenever someone pinched her and she couldn’t pinch back.” I turn around to face Zeath, who doesn’t do the same. “Is that the potential you mean? Bullshit...”

The man proceeds to leave, and I’m left by myself, scoffing in disbelief.

Then, as the tears slide down, I fail woefully at stopping them. Instead, I whisper through the cracks in my tone, “I’m not giving up on you, babe; you know that.”

How I wish it were easier to live inside my head. Because it sounds much better there when I think, ‘I can’t let anyone tramp over me and dispose of me like that. And I’m not filing for any damn divorce either!’

He never kissed me good morning, nor did I see him again.

Days later, and I have no fucking clue where to start my revenge. All I do is sit by the window for hours to calculate how long it’ll take Zeath to return home.

No matter how many texts and calls I bombard him with, he doesn’t reply. It’s like I’ve become a ghost to him.

And sometimes, I wonder how I let myself be fooled. How did I not put two and two together?

Or I’ve just been paying no attention.

Back in high school, I liked Zeath.

I had this huge crush on him—that was years ago. He always had Yolie in his arms, but I just didn’t mind her, especially since bitching ran in her blood.

I wore my pride like a coat and pretended not to see Zeath, ignoring him whenever we met instead of gaping at him.

I may even be the only one who never gave him the satisfaction of being an idol, as he was that senior every girl wanted to date.

A little over three years ago, I saw my dream come true when he started to get close to my family.

He sponsored my father’s presidential campaign.

At first, I thought it was just business since he also wanted my father’s full support of the Fanning group of companies if he became president.

But I began to feel his eyes on me; intense, tiny prickles spreading over my skin.

It was stronger than any other, more chilling than when a ghost stared at you.

He soon smiled at me, something I didn’t see in high school.

Not long after, he dropped the L-word, saying how much he had been obsessed with me since middle school and how sad he was when he learned we wouldn’t be attending the same college.

We had just graduated then, and he immediately took over his dad’s company as the heir.

Meanwhile, I mopped around, waiting for a prince charming to swoop me off my feet. So, marriage was definitely an option. And that is why I didn’t hesitate to say yes when Zeath popped the question after some months of dating.

Our wedding was something out of a Cinderella fantasy. And, yes, beneath the magical lights and ethereal robes, there was something darker—rotten—that'd soon penetrate the fancy and render my life as teetering as it is now.

I move from the window to the closet, where I grab two of Zeath’s shirts. I haven’t been able to resist sniffing his scent for a while now. It’s like an addiction; bad and good in a way. But has a side effect equally.

Fuck it, what the hell am I doing? Self-pity is not a good suit for me, nor is self-blame. I look pathetic. Even my family may smell it from miles away.

I need to do something instead of wandering about and being driven to madness.

Zeath wants to gaslight me; pin his fuck up on my head. A thousand fucks to him because I’m not letting that play.

I have to get back to him and Yolie somehow. They shouldn’t toy with one’s feelings.

I also need to teach them not to tinker with marriage vows. And they certainly shouldn’t have bet on a Fanning.

Now I have to play dirty, just as they did.

My phone has been ringing on the bed for ages. I’m sure it’s not Zeath, as I have a special ringtone for his call.

I know it’s not Mom, or Dad, or Polinel either. Those three musketeers are doing a perfect job at forgetting that I ever existed.

But, despite who it is, the repeated ringtone manages to rip me from the claws of Zeath’s scent.

Now I have to at least answer this person’s call as a token of my appreciation.

The moment the call goes through, Oasis’s voice slams into my ear. “Mells, you’ve been AWO―”

“Oasis, vow to me on your last breath that I won’t find my name in the headlines tomorrow.”

“Whoa. Deep breaths, Fanning. Whenever are you not in the headlines?”

“Well, this one’s different.” I drop my voice to a whisper as if someone else in the mansion might hear me. Mind you, I’m the only one here for now. “I think Zeath and I are falling apart.”

“Wha― why?”

“Okay, I need that vow now.”

“I put a noose around my neck.” Always impatient. “Tell me.”

I take in a deep breath. “Zeath brought in a new woman. She’s damn pregnant.”

Oasis’s loud gasp nearly forces my hand to throw away my phone. “Fuck me, Mells!” she exclaims. “What in the world are you still doing there?”

“I can’t leave my marriage,” I sigh.

“No, you can. You can definitely walk out of a sick marriage when you’re being disrespected. A Fanning doesn’t tolerate that, remember?”

Yeah, I know. I read the hundreds of Fanning laws and mandates, and that’s the first one I caught. “I just...” My voice dwindles. Clearing my throat, I recover half of it. “I love him too much.”

“Aww, Mells. Okay, spill. Who’s this new woman? I might give her an earful.”

Now that’s the thing about Oasis, saying stuff that is supposed to exude compassion like she’s reading out a boring list of groceries.

I mean so when she said, ‘Aww, Mells.’ Sometimes, I wonder how she’s a doctor.

“I don’t know if an earful is necessary,” I reply. “She gets her fill from watching fucking Zeath string me along.”

“Is she a governor’s daughter, a senator’s? Tell me.”

“That I don’t know. Her name’s Yolie; the one who followed Zeath around like a pet in high school.”

“You mean Yolie Diza? Ah. She was his girlfriend. Her mom’s definitely something, I can’t recall. But I thought they’d broken up long before you and Zeath married.”

I roll my eyes with a sigh. “Well, figures.”

Oasis makes a tsk sound before silence befalls us.

Then she begins again, “You know what? I’m going to give her that earful. I’m not supposed to divulge this information, but she walked into the hospital some hours ago and hasn’t walked out since. Wonder how I only now recognize her after you mentioned her name. I’ll...”

The voice fades out as I slowly sit on the bed. My mind is a maze of ideas; conflicting ones that contrast with my morals. But I know these morals will take me nowhere.

After all, no one thought of that when they hurt me. Now I have to give them a piece of their own cake.

And thanks to Oasis’s call, I’ve just found my inspiration.

~

Her medical secretary tries to stop me at the door, but I barge in anyway. When she sees me, she quickly stands up from behind her desk and approaches me.

“For goodness’ sake, Mells, what are you doing here?” She asks in a panicked state.

“I need your help. Yolie, I need to see her.”

Oasis reaches me, grabs my shoulders, and tries to push me back toward the door. “Look, Mells, I have two active vows right now. One’s not to expose your ass. The other is to this hospital and my JOB, which I might lose since I’ve already broken a rule.”

I tear the lady’s hands off me. “You are a senior doctor.”

“And this is a Lupin hospital. I am not indestructible. Besides, you’re an angry woman trying to see the owner’s...” Oasis leans in with a whisper, “…preggy girlfriend.”

I back away before walking by her, reaching her desk and leaning on it as I state calmly, “Angry wife, Oasis.” Then I point to myself. “I’m his wife.”

Oasis scratches her nape with a sigh. “Can you just... go home? I said I would give the girl an earful.”

“Oh, at risk of ‘losing your job?’ An earful is not near enough. I need more. Now you might be thinking, ‘What more would she need? Yolie and Zeath were dating, after all, before she made herself a third wheel―’”

“No, that’s not what―”

“Which is not the case, nor did he cheat on me with her.”

“Mells, I’m not holding you―”

“They played me, Oasis,” I mutter, “those fuckers. It was a damn dare.” Oasis’s shoulders drop as her expression tangles with pity, confusion, and shock. “Apparently, because I lived in a dream world, they thought, ‘Why not make it happen?’ They’re even getting married.”

“Wait, I don’t understand.”

“Zeath said I’m a troll he can’t withstand. Do you understand that better?”

“Oh, Mells.”

I blink back tears, swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth that’s in the form of saliva.

“And he only married me to fulfill a dare he made with his friends and probably the fuckfaced Yolie back in high school because I always gallivanted around the school like a queen, tagging everybody as trash with my actions. Now that’s unfair, Oasis. You should see that.”

Nothing aside from Zeath’s actions torments me more than talking about this.

If it were possible to not, I wouldn’t. But Oasis always wants to hear the story, and she’ll push you to the edge so she can.

“I sympathize with you, my friend,” she says, “but you know you’ve got to retain some self-respect, right?”

I scoff. “What value does that even have? I’ve done such for years, yet it meant nothing. And I don’t need your sympathy. I need your help.”

Oasis presses her lips into a thin line, which makes her dimples visible. Then she sighs and walks past me to sit at her desk.

Now that she’s behind me, she asks, “What do you want me to do?”

Relief washes through me, knowing I can’t enact what I have in mind without her. “I want you to conduct an ultrasound on Yolie for me.”

I hear Oasis drum her fingers on the desk. “I bet she’s done that already.”

“No. I want to intercept the result.”

The lady lets out a skeptical chuckle. I still do not turn to face her as I cross my hands on my chest.

“Okay,” she concedes before I hear her leave her chair to stand beside me. “My conscience is going to beat me, but I’ll meet her doctor now and get you the result. Probably will take minutes.”

She heads forward for the door.

“One more thing,” I suddenly voice out. That stops her in her tracks before she even places her hand on the doorknob.

“What now, Mellow?” She drawls while turning to me.

“I need you to kidnap her.”

Oasis gasps. “What the fu―”

She glances back as if cautious that someone watched her through the door, then she hurries to my side, peering at my face with eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. “What the fuck, Mells, are you insane?”

I smile. “No, I’m perfectly sane.”

Oasis looks at me like she’s seen a monster jump into her boat. “You want to kidnap a pregnant woman.” She blinks in confusion and disbelief. “Zeath’s girlfriend?”

I huff. “Skip mentioning the last part for the sake of our friendship. And I won’t harm her. I only need to teach Zeath a lesson or two.”

“You think he won’t find her? He has eyes everywhere.”

“Yeah, sure he does. But the thing is, he won’t be searching in the right place. Zeath thinks I’m a softie and all about whining for my dreams to come true. He doesn’t know that when a Fanning puts their mind to something, they get it done. One way or another.”

Oasis lets out a huge sigh—it sounds shaky as if she’s scared of Zeath rather than frustrated by me. “Oh, fuck me, Mells,” she groans. “I’m gonna be roasted like a witch if I’m discovered. And you, you might actually turn up dead.”

I smile. “You’ll die first if you don’t get your ass working.”

“Ugh! Stay here. You move an inch, the hospital swallows you. You hear me?”

I nod.

Oasis leaves and returns after a few minutes, looking sweaty, tired, and quite pissed. She ignores me for seconds as she reclines in her chair with closed eyes, while I turn to her, wagging my tail impatiently.

“Will you tell me where she is or not?” I ask.

Oasis opens her eyes. Oh, there’s a glare. “‘Thank you, Oasis.’ It’s simple courtesy to say thank you when you’ve been aided.”

“I’ll do that when I know I got what I want.”

We exchange silent stares for some time before the lady begins to rap, “Yolie had finished the ultrasound and was probably waiting for someone in the VIP section. Guess who? That makes things more complicated. But I had a trusted nurse of mine put her to sleep and take her to my car without being noticed.”

She sits up and tosses her car key to my side of the desk before warning, “Now I’ve taken precautions in handling Yolie so far and hope you do the same. At least for the sake of her baby.”

“I’m not going to kill her, Oasis, if that’s what you're scared of,” I say with a shrug. Then, on second thought, I frown. “You shouldn’t even think that of me in the first place, but thank you. How about the scan result?”

“Will be sent to your private estate in a few. Drop your car keys and leave now. Yolie might be awake already.”

I serve Oasis a mock bow before grabbing her keys, dropping mine, and heading for the parking lot.

She mentioned Zeath’s coming complicates things, but she doesn’t know it’s a blessing for me.

Purely Mother Earth hearing my pleas.

I want him to discover his baby mama’s not in the hospital when he arrives. Let the itch to know his baby’s gender kill him.

And, hell. Let the fear of Yolie’s safety eat him up to the last of his guts.

Reaching Oasis’s car, I find Yolie carefully laid in the backseat.

Her breathing features are laid out in plain sight: subtle cheeks that are evidence of good sleep, light brown baby hairs straying over her forehead, and the front corners of her ears.

She looks tired, probably the effects of pregnancy hitting her. It makes me wish guilt works the same way too—showing on the face as one sleeps—because then I wouldn’t have to exhaust myself asking a hundred and one questions.

I start the car, and as I turn the wheel toward the hospital entrance, a shuffling sound from the backseat causes me to stop.

Yolie’s soft sigh reaches my ears before I stare at her through the rearview mirror. She’s glancing around, confused. And the fear that meets her eyes when she notices me can’t be missed.

“Hello, Yolie, spot your dearest boyfriend?” I ask with a smile.

Zeath’s car had just driven into the parking lot.

As he rushes into the building, Yolie looks at him through the window.

She panics, banging on the latter. If only she knew it was useless. No one will hear her. Zeath has already disappeared into the building too.

“What do you want from me?” She snaps after she stops banging.

I huff. “What you lost when you played with my person.”

“I don’t lose stuff. If anything, you lost Zeath.”

The fuck? “Shut your trap, or I'll cut your tongue and feed it to your baby.”

Yolie places her hands on her stomach. For a moment there, I see terror flash in her eyes.

But it disappears right before she hisses, “This won’t go unnoticed. My husband will come for you.”

“Husband?” I can’t help laughing. “You’re just his baby mama, hon. You’ll see him long enough for me to give him a legitimate child. And, oh, let him come.”

I drive out of the hospital.

Throughout the ride, I don’t stop glancing at the rearview mirror occasionally, just in case Yolie tries to strangle me from behind. She keeps checking her knee-high boots too, looking like she lost something.

It takes nearly an hour to arrive at my villa before I alight the car, going around it to usher Yolie out. She struggles to step out, and I don’t help her at all.

Here I was scared she’d do something when she can barely hold her feet on the ground.

We head inside the building, where I keep Yolie prisoner in one of my spare rooms that only has a narrow bed.

Yolie sits on the bed with her legs stretched wide in front of her. She rests her backside against the wall and puffs out air, while I perch beside her.

“Your doctor mentioned your baby’s gender after the scan?” I ask after staring at the woman for some time. It’s a rhetorical question, by the way. And Yolie rolling her eyes confirms that.

“I plead the fifth,” she mumbles.

“Like you’ll tell the truth even if you swear in a courtroom,” I snap back. “Your conscience is what you lost. So, I like to know how it feels to fuck me up like that.”

“Well, if kidnapping pregnant women is ethical, then why not anything else?”

“Yolie, that’s out of character for you. I know you could do worse; you know that too.”

“Then why ask about my conscience?”

I tilt my head to the side, my lips too. “You present yourself as a tough nut. Still, I notice a crack of your envy and fear. You’re scared Zeath might actually love me. That he might wake up tomorrow and say, ‘Fuck you and your baby, Yolie, I go with Mellow.’”

Yolie lets out an enormous belly laugh, nearly falling to her side. “Do you hear yourself? Only I should be delusional; I’m pregnant. What’s your excuse?” She stops laughing, then sniffles before swiping her index finger under her nose. “At least put on your saintly character and let me go. Don’t be this villain you’re forcing yourself to become. It’ll compress you.”

I sigh as I move toward the room entrance.

“You and Zeath are really birds of the same feather, aren’t you?” I mutter, facing Yolie and leaning on the door. “You do stuff and try to turn it on me. Not fair.”

“You are the one who allowed yourself to be used. You were like an empty vessel that craved a fill of love and attention.”

“An empty vessel, you say?”

“Were you far from that?” Yolie’s starting to enjoy this. “I could smell your misery from afar. Even with all your raised chins and unblinking eyes, I knew it was a protective shell with no meat inside.”

“I might just hit you, Yolie,” I whisper weakly.

Yet, that doesn’t bother the woman. “Sweet, add assault to your list of offenses.”

If she’s aiming to get inside my head, then she shouldn’t try so hard. Whatever she’s doing, it’s working. Because now I’m contemplating if there’s some truth in her words.

Zeath mentioned the same thing, after all.

“You’re just waiting for Zeath to jump in and save your ass,” I say slowly as Yolie rests her head on the wall and closes her eyes. “But what will you do when you discover he’ll never find you unless I let him?”

My phone rings. It’s Mama Tia.

Before last week, a call from her meant a massive flow of joy.

Now there’s nothing.

“Mellow, darling,” her soft, careful voice comes from the other side of the phone.

I hesitate before replying, “Hi.”

“Ah. Be less grumpy, and you’ll live longer than I am. What do you say we talk over tea this afternoon? I brewed too much. You know I don’t like wasting stuff.”

“Uhm…” The doorbell rings. “I don’t know if I can, Mama Tia,” I say flatly while leaving the room, locking Yolie behind.

“Oh, come on. What could you possibly be doing? I thought we always compromised together.”

At the front door, I find a big brown envelope sitting on the threshold. I tear it to reveal the main package, and bingo, it’s what I’ve been waiting for!

Oh, good Oasis. Best friend ever!

I can’t help smirking as I stare at Yolie’s ultrasound result. Maybe I need this meeting with Mama Tia.

“Alright, expect me soon.”