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Author: Lindsay
last update Last Updated: 2024-10-29 19:42:56

Valentina pov

I'm experiencing mixed emotions about what transpired tonight, but that doesn't prevent me from smiling at the thought of seeing Fred. Clutching my jacket tightly around me, I step out of the car and make my way toward his apartment.

Upon reflection, I'm not entirely sure if my mother's lack of support for my relationship with Fred stems from his lack of wealth compared to the man they want me to marry or because of his infidelity. After all, Fred cheated only twice. If it weren't for Brenda's interest in him, maybe he wouldn't have strayed again. Brenda is untrustworthy, and I'm determined to prove it to her.

Fred and I love each other deeply. He's a passionate and caring partner, showering me with affection and adoration. The love that had dwindled at home due to our financial struggles, Fred rekindled. He's shown me so much love, and I fell for him.

Fred never gave up on me when I thought he might. I believed he'd grow tired of me, but he didn't. He kept coming back, kept loving me.

How can I suddenly give up when that's what Brenda wants? She hopes to separate us so she can have him to herself, but I won't allow it. Fred is mine.

The atmosphere is unusually quiet, and I realize I must have spent a lot of time at the clubhouse contemplating everything before deciding to come here. I expected Fred to be there, but he wasn't. Knowing I might need to drive to his place, I refrained from alcohol.

If he hadn't cheated with Brenda, she would have been the one I'd confide in. But Brenda is no longer a friend; she's a traitor. I miss our friendship, but I won't accept her back as a friend.

I left the house at noon when my mother revealed the news of my betrothal, anticipating I'd react with enthusiasm and rush to prepare to meet some billionaire. I'm not a child; I'm an adult.

I step onto the porch, remove my hand from the jacket pocket, and knock on Fred's door. After knocking, I place my hand back in my jacket pocket and wait.

No response, and I wonder if he's not home yet. He usually finishes work at 9 pm, and it's already 11 pm. I was at the club from 8 pm, waiting for him. I left a little after 10 pm.

I take my hand out of my jacket pocket and knock again, more forcefully. Still, there's silence. Frustrated, I take out my phone to call him. It rings for a while, but he doesn't answer. Feeling a sudden surge of anger, I knock loudly and aggressively on the door. It swings open immediately.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been..."

"Hey, babe," he greets me, shirtless, pulling me into a quick hug.

As he releases me, I raise a suspicious eyebrow. I've been knocking for over five minutes, and there was no response. But after calling his phone and knocking again, he finally comes to the door. Shirtless.

Something doesn't add up.

"Fred?" I call, noting his avoidance of my gaze. He leans against the doorframe, almost as if to prevent me from entering his apartment. I sense that something is amiss.

This is unusual for Fred. He usually welcomes my visits and enjoys cuddling with me. I planned to spend the night here, in his arms, seeking comfort and assurance that everything will be okay.

"Babe, what are you doing here? I was just about to call you," he greets me with a big smile.

I take my hands and fold them around my chest. My heart sinks. Fred is acting strangely again, likely because he's done something wrong once more.

Without responding, I push past him and enter the apartment. I shouldn't dwell on his betrayal right now. My main concern is spending the night here; I can't go home tonight. I hope my mother will realize her mistake and change her mind about this engagement nonsense. It's not for me.

"Babe," Fred calls from behind and grabs my arm, turning me to face him.

"Fred?" I can't believe he's doing this. Is he trying to stop me from spending the night?

He doesn't say anything, so I free my hand from his grasp and turn away. It's then that I see the reason for his actions.

There are clothes scattered on the living room floor, about five pieces of clothing and a pair of high heels. I let out a quiet gasp and my gaze instinctively shifts to the staircase leading to the room where Fred and I usually spend the night cuddling.

"Val, it's not what you think," he appears in front of me, trying to explain.

"Fred." I'm at a loss for words. I don't know how to process this or how to react.

I can't believe Fred is cheating on me again, just two nights after I caught him with my best friend. He didn't even bother to check on me or see how I was doing. He was at home with another woman.

Is this because I told him I wasn't ready for intimacy? Is he unable to control his desires? Why didn't he talk to me about it?

Before a tear can escape my eye, he pulls me into an embrace.

"I love you, Val. Trust me, it's a misunderstanding..."

I can't contain my anger any longer. When I caught him with Brenda, I didn't shout or slap anyone. I left quietly, but neither of them followed me, and it hurt to think they might go back to their activities.

"Misunderstanding?" I push him away, and it's a forceful shove that sends him onto the sofa. "You call this a misunderstanding? Are you out of your mind? What do you take me for, huh?" I find myself shouting, crying, and picking up each piece of clothing to throw in his face.

This isn't supposed to happen. Nothing is going according to my plans or desires anymore. This night should have been different. I should have been welcomed warmly by Fred, watching him cook dinner for me because I'm starving. After eating, we should have been kissing or playing a game, and we should be cuddling to sleep. But none of that is happening.

Fred is a deceitful and unfaithful man.

I pick up the high heels from the floor and throw them at him in a fit of rage, but he dodges them, leaping over the sofa.

Just then, I catch a glimpse of someone coming down the staircase. I resist the urge to look, suppressing my curiosity to see who it is.

I pick up my phone from the table where I left it and head for the door, hugging my jacket to myself, not bothering to wipe away the tears on my face. But before I can turn the doorknob to leave, a voice stops me.

"Hello, Valentina," a familiar voice calls out to me, and I turn slowly to see the triumphant smile on her face.

Brenda? I almost want to exclaim with surprise. Brenda again? How long has this been happening?

I shift my gaze to Fred, but he avoids making eye contact with me. He stares at the floor, lacking the courage to face me.

I made a mistake by choosing to be with him. I believed I could win him over and prevent Brenda from taking him, but now it's clear that I've lost this battle. I can never emerge victorious because Fred doesn't even deserve such an effort. He has the chance to choose me over her right now, but he's not doing anything of the sort.

To come out on top, I need to adopt a different strategy. If I want the last word and my revenge on these two people who used to mean so much to me, I should probably meet this supposed billionaire and turn the tables.

Without uttering a word, I swing open the door and dash out, tears streaming down my face.

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