Anne I fell asleep through the gnawing cold. I guess he got busy with his fiancée that he forgot he wanted to get a second blanket for me. The movie I was watching was hilarious and interesting, but it did little to erase the thought of those two upstairs getting it hot and sweaty to abate the cold. I’d stood up, paced around, gone to the toilet near the gym room to poo, cause mehn, the thoughts I had, didn’t sit well with my system. After hours of staying up, tossing and turning, throwing pillows and fetching them back, I finally fell asleep. Even in a deep sleep, the cold penetrated my subconscious. It put me in a dream where I was stuck in a locked refrigerator. The more I tried to push the door open, the colder it got in there. I was scared I would die. But after what felt like hours of struggling, the door opened on its own and in rushed warm air. I flipped my eyes open and grabbed the arm that wasn’t mine. The room was a bit darker now, but I could still make out his face
Andrew “Did you get her pregnant?!” mum yelled at me. I didn’t respond. I just stood there and stared at the floor. “Andrew! answer me this instant,” she barked, walking up to me. She forcefully dragged my face up to face her, then with the same force, raised her hand and struck me against the face. My head almost bounced off my neck, but I didn’t flinch. I simply returned my head to its formal position. According to mum, she had hired a private detective to look into Anne before they left India. Well, the detective must have found information about Anne and the baby, and how I frequented her place with baby stuff. Mum must have put two and two together, then decided that Anne’s baby was mine. “I said it!” she spat. “She’d always wanted to plant herself in this household. She had been after our wealth! She’d started with you, then moved over to Vincent, who she believed was the heir. Since I took Vincent away, she now seduced you! You let her! You let her!!” mum yelled, pounding
Andrew I knew he was so disoriented and confused, but he followed me. I know he’d wanted to ask why I didn’t take her to the hospital, but he kept the questions to himself. It made me wonder if following me was a way of telling me he cared but doesn’t know why. We got to Anne’s apartment and knocked. I’d already sent a message to her earlier telling her I was visiting with Vincent and that she should act sick. She had a lot of questions. “What? Why? When? This wasn’t part of the plan, Andrew?” she’d messaged. Her mum opened the door when we’d knocked. The shocked expression she had on her face would have had me howling with laughter if the situation wasn’t dire. “Uh… we’re here to check up on Anne. We heard she isn't feeling too good,” I told Anne’s mum, Rachael. “She isn't?” she asked with raised brows. I didn’t dare look at my brother because he would read through me. Although confused and stunned, Rachael still allowed us into the house. “What will you have?” Rachael asked,
Anne Scared was an understatement. I was mortified. I didn’t know where Andrew was going with this, but hearing my baby cry was terrifying. It was too early for Vincent to know about Lucy. Plus, God forbid, if he has another migraine episode, I don’t know how bad it’ll be this time. Vincent bent his head to the side as if listening clearly to be certain it was really a baby crying. For the first time in my life, I was going to deny my baby. I had opened my mouth, ready to say that the cry was from my little niece, but Andrew beat me to it. “Marie, Lucy is crying. Go fetch her,” Andrew ordered, like it was the most normal thing for me to have a baby crying in the room. I widened my eyes in shock at Andrew’s bold utterances. He was acting crazy. I blinked at him when I caught his eyes, expecting him to get his acts together, but he simply turned his face away and did the worse. “Marie has a baby girl,” he said to Vincent, with a huge smile on his face. Vincent turned and looked
Anne I stood in front of his door again, fidgeting. I’d knocked twice and was going to knock a third time when he answered. “Hello,” I greeted in what I would call a normal voice. “Hello, Marie,” he responded in a voice that sounded displeased to see me. “Andrew is not home,” he added “Ye…ah,” I stuttered. “I’m not here for him. I came to see you,” I said, slightly wincing as I waited for a reply. He stared at me for a while before clearing his throat and responding. “Alright. Come on in.” “No. Why don’t we take a stroll down the street?” I proposed, still wincing. I don’t know why I was expecting him to say no to me and whatever I had to say, then bang the door in my face. I guess it was how he left in the morning. I feel he wasn’t pleased with something Andrew and I must have said or done. I dared not let this fester because I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that I must have done something to make him leave like that. It would’ve kept me up all night. He stared at me once m
Vincent I was hurting. I knew she was definitely a part of my past, and I knew I was madly in love with her. That’s the only reason that best explained the spasmodic desires that engulf me whenever I was close to her. But I don’t trust her. She said she didn’t want to reveal the truth for my sake, but I doubted her. She was hiding something. That should be the reason my brain shut her out. I might have been telling myself that coming back here was to inform my dad of my intentions to marry Arya, but that wasn’t the entire reason. I came back for closure. My past haunted me. I felt it was time to return the favor, but in the end, as I walked away from Anne, I realized I was, in fact, ambushed. It got worse. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat properly, couldn’t have a decent conversation with Arya all because my brain kept bringing up images of that lady’s face, which was quite hilarious because the same brain was shutting me out from my past with her. The first moment I laid eyes o
Vincent ‘Anne.’ I guess that’s her real name. It actually rang a bell. I remember pronouncing that name, and it must have meant so much to me because whenever I called it out, which I was doing often since that time with Arya in the kitchen, I felt a cacophony of emotions attack me. There was peace, followed by fear, then agitation, trepidation, fury, and what have you? It was strange. Her name held so much power, yet I couldn’t still remember. It was frustrating! “Have you booked the tickets, Vin?” mum asked from where she sat on the couch. She’d come around right after Arya left the house. Arya has been giving me the silent treatment ever since I mistakenly called her the name that tormented my subconscious, the day before. “Yes, mum,” I replied grudgingly from the dining table where I was getting some reading done. “Have you heard from dad?” I asked. “No, hun, but don’t you worry, he would be available for the wedding. I just received his clothes from his tailor. We’ll be tr
Vincent Mum had threatened to take Anne’s baby away from her. She’d told me how she'd contacted her lawyers and had every paperwork done so that once Arya and I leave, the real work starts. “No, mum,” I’d refused. “Son, that our grandchild there. She cannot live in the slums,” she’d argued. “I’ve been there, mum. It’s not a slum, and Andrew is more than capable of caring for that child,” I countered. I was hurting real bad. I felt like I was drowning… it was overwhelming. Having these massive conflicting emotions, then having to stick up for what I believed was right, was slowly killing me. “Son, she has to pay for what she’d done to us! She cannot go scot-free. My husband and I, for over a year, have had no meaningful conversation because of her. He’d gone rigid around me,” she said in tears. “He’d not touched me for over a year because of that witch, Vincent,” she divulged bitterly. “She created a rift between your brother and yourself in the past, now, a much bigger one by hav