4| Rafe

I take a quick hot bath, wear my clothes and come out of the bathroom. Rubbing the towel against my wet hair, I grab my phone and go through the recent alerts.

"I've heard some rumours about you and that woman who is your family friend. What was her

name?...Fay-Freya Howard, yes. That you both are into each other." Mona speaks.

My jaws harden as I fume at the mention of Freya's name. I tighten the grip on my phone and throw away the towel somewhere on the bed.

"What's going on, Rafe?" Mona continues.

I restrain myself though, "You yourself called it rumours so you should ignore rumours." I flatly answer while still focused on my phone's screen.

She's clueless about the direful wedding event that took place more than a week ago. Mona doesn't have any link with the business or construction industry that turned out to my advantage.

"Rumours can't be baseless." She comes in front of me, "Why are they attaching your name with Freya Howard when you said she's only your friend? If there is anything going on, tell me."

"Damn it, Mona." I explode with a high-pitch voice, losing my cool. She flinches. "If you wanna believe what people are talking about then go on, I don't care. I don't like to repeat myself."

She's testing my patience. I'm trying to blot out that troublemaker's name from my memory and she's reminding me of her.

"What's with you and your tantrums lately? You get angry at small things." She miffs, "You don't talk to me much and now when I'm asking a simple question, you are getting annoyed. I can't deal with it."

She flips my lid. I'm not up for arguing, "Fine. Then don't talk to me." I already have so much on my plate right now. I'm not in the mood to pamper her.

She's complaining about my temper. She's not seeing her insane, childish insecurities. Fuck it off. I pocket my phone and turn to leave.

"Rafe, come back." She yells behind, "You can't leave when we're talking."

I ignore her and shut her voice for me by slamming the door of her house once I step out.

What an aggravating world I live in. These days everyone just wants to get under my skin. I'm angry to the point of killing someone or beating or kicking. My head is inflamed like a blazing fire.

No one can blame me for my rude temper. I can't act civil after what I have been through, after enduring the sick joke my family and Freya played with me.

I sweep towards my car when my phone rings. Garrett is calling. I pick it up quickly and vent out, "What's the matter now? Why are you calling me at this hour?"

"I'm sorry." She gets scared at my tactless tone, "It's your father. He called to ask for Salvatore's project file."

I grumble, "So? Search it in the office. I don't roam around the city with work files, Garrett."

It's 8:00 o'clock in the evening. I got free from the office early today and went to Mona's place to get some peaceful time, but dear God, I forgot that peace has taken away from me.

"I tried. I searched around." She quickly defends herself, "I don't think it's here."

I sit in my car, "Can't he wait till morning?" I ask while thinking about where I've kept that file.

"He said he wants it right now. He's meeting with one investor and he wants to show it to him. He wants the file in an hour."

I slap the steering wheel. Damn it, Father. "Fine. I'll take care of it." I hang up on Garrett afterwards without waiting for her response.

I start thinking about that project file. If it's not in the office then it must be in the house, my old house. But I have shifted all work related things to my office just a day after my so-called wedding to pretend to Father and Mom that I'm moving in to my new home.

I'm sure there is nothing in my old bedroom. Then where it could be. I start the car and move forward with slow speed while continuing pondering about the places where that file could be. If it's not in the office, not in my old house then there is only one place left...that apartment.

Yes. It has to be there. I remember I put some contract papers in the apartment's locker.

I screech to stop the car in the middle of the road.

Crap! It means I have to go there now? No way.

I hate stepping into that house. I hate the reminder it gives me that I'm now a married man, that Freya, hell is my wife.

Bullshit. Gibberish. And what not. I want to cuss this situation I'm in with every swear word I have in my vocabulary. Still I think they would be unable to express my distaste and rage.

I start the car and push the accelerator under my foot to the last level, take off like a rocket. I have to see now that dimwit woman's face.

I'm despising Freya at this moment with every fibre in me. I want her to just die or go somewhere far so I can pretend easily that she doesn't exist.

I went on an office trip to avoid the wedding drama Mom and Father were playing. I tried telling them to stop, that I don't want to get married and waited for Freya to explain the truth, but never in my wildest dreams had I anticipated that they would fix the wedding date, arrange my whole freaking wedding behind my back.

Mom told me her whole plan on a phone call. I was stunned. She said come on time, come directly to the wedding venue. I felt like hitting a lightning strike. I got to hear about MY wedding through a phone call...just a damn CALL.

I felt helpless and imprisoned. They tied me into a forced marriage with a girl I didn't like, with a girl I never planned to like. No one gets married like this.... like out of the blue. Out of nowhere.

I screech stop the car in front of the building and come out. Quickly, take the elevator, I reach the designated floor.

This apartment was my dream house. This was the apartment where I was planning to shift permanently after winning the CEO title. I was impatiently waiting for the time of my life when I could finally live alone, have my own place. But then Father came to me and asked to search for a house for my wife where I could live with her.

I got another good news of my life besides CEO nomination, surfaced with bad omen. I was enraged at that time so I told Father I have one apartment under my name to stop him from pestering me. I gave away my dream apartment and now this place has become forbidden for me.

She ruined my plans. Freya ruined everything for me. I didn't plan my life that way.

With spare keys I unlock the main door and step inside. I will just quickly find the file and leave before I come across her and have to see her face. With this searing anger I shouldn't see her. I won't be able to stop myself. That's also one of the reasons I'm avoiding her because I have a temptation to go cray cray and teach her a lesson.

As I enter the apartment, I see the whole place upside down as if it was hit by some tornado. There are mountains of random stuff, stuff that are supposed to be in their respective closets. The table covers are on the floor along with sofa cushions. I become confused and surprised.

There is also a strange rotting smell in the air, making it hard for me to breathe.

"Matteo?" I holler the apartment's housekeeping in-charge, "Where are you? Come out right now."

I appointed the whole team for housekeeping and paid them a good sum of money. This mess can't be possible.

A man in his forties rushes to me, "Yes, Mr. Rafael. I'm here."

"What's going on here?" I angrily put my hands on curves of my waist, nostrils flaring, "Look at the house. I don't give you money for just living here."

It's saddening to see my dream house in this condition. It is a very opulent apartment. Its architecture and interior design are unique and one of a kind. I asked the crew to take special care of it and see what has happened to it. It has become a glimpse of how my dreams are shattered and messed up.

"It's your wife. Miss Freya sent them on holidays." He lowers his gaze.

I feel the urge to punch him and break his nose for calling her my wife. I don't have any WIFE, for God's sake.

"Why?" I mutter.

"I don't know the reason. She ordered me to do so and said she will do the cleaning by herself. Now all day she does all the household chores. She doesn't even allow me to help her."

My confusion deepens. "What about the floor? Why is it stained and sticky? And why in the world this clutter is out instead of in their closets?"

"It's the cleaner. She was scrubbing the floor, but she didn't know how much cleaner should be used. It left stains and about closets, she said she should dust off the inside shelves then she will put all things back."

Is she out of her mind? Well, she always is. I shouldn't be astounded.

"And what's that rotting smell? Get rid of it. I'm unable to breathe." I contort my face in disgust.

"I'll try." He quickly says in obedience, "It's the smell of burning food. Miss Freya has been cooking food for herself for two days, but every time she burns it. I tried to convince her that she didn't--"

"Wait, Freya was cooking?" I couldn't hold back my surprise, "She doesn't even know how to hold a knife."

"Yes." He answers, "She's trying online recipes." My astonishment doubles.

As far as I knew she never even entered the kitchen. If we were like our old selves, I would have broken into hysterical laughs.

"Mr. Rafael, it is really not my place to say this, but I think you should know that." Matteo says, "Freya doesn't seem okay. The whole day she tires herself with house chores, takes rest at night then wakes up and repeats the routine. I ask her about bringing back the domestic staff, but she says she will clean the entire house by herself. I'm afraid she might get ill or worse. Maybe she has some...mental stress."

I get it now. It makes sense why she's acting that way. It's her old habit. She finds engaging activities to distract herself from things she doesn't want to think about.

"Hmm. Whatever, Matteo." I say out of annoyance, "You do what she says to you. I don't care about this place anymore. She can turn this house into a trash bin if she wants."

I go on my way towards the room where I have kept my stuff. Freya has these phases when she acts insane, when she doesn't know what to do with her issues. I have seen her watching movies all day, locking herself in a room or going to a dance club and dancing until she runs out of energy or sometimes does endless shopping. Though I have never seen her doing household chores.

Even though I don't want to care about what's with her, I still wonder what could really bother her now. She has saved herself and her secret boyfriend. She can now have the kind of life she wants. She can go on dates with her boyfriend, spend time with him without fear, without being caught. She doesn't have to be bound by restrictions anymore.

She used me and saved herself so why she's acting this way as if she is a victim of injustice. Stupid woman as I said! I'm the victim of her stupidity. I'm paying the price of being a friend of a brainless woman.

I open the wardrobe and rummage through the files and papers. She can cry or she can tire herself to death. I don't care. It's not my business. None of her matters is my business...not anymore.

The frustrations bubble up in me, making my vision blurry. I'm unable to focus on anything, still I continue searching that project file.

"Rafe?" Her voice. She calls my name. I recognize her voice. I stop and turn.