chapter 5

When faced with the unsettling prospect of someone morphing into an unwelcome stalker, Adina found herself trapped in a web of exhaustion and despondency. Her daily to-do list never contained an entry for dealing with an entitled, affluent brat, and it certainly wasn't on her agenda for the foreseeable future, not even in a hypothetical next life.

On the advice of her boss, she had taken the weekend off, presumably for some much-needed rest. However, relaxation was elusive for Adina; her mind remained besieged. Ruan, her friend and confidant, had grown increasingly concerned about her well-being. He believed she ought to seek medical help, but Adina obstinately refused.

"You haven't been yourself since..." Ruan began, his concern palpable.

"I'm fine, Ruan," Adina replied, her irritation evident.

Ruan, mindful of her emotional turmoil, pressed further. "Are you at least willing to talk about it?"

Adina knew deep down that talking was a necessity, albeit an unwelcome one at this moment. Still, she found herself shaking her head in refusal.

"Alright, I won't force you," Ruan conceded, recognizing the limits of his persuasion. "But you should consider opening up. The burden you're carrying is taking a toll on you, and it's not a healthy path to tread."

Adina hesitated before making a significant step, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her tone. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course," Ruan replied, taking a seat beside her on the couch. He remained silent, offering Adina the time and space to gather her thoughts, respecting her need to unburden herself at her own pace.

Adina summoned the strength to delve into the painful narrative, each word carrying the weight of her harrowing encounter. "The man who did it, I saw him," she began, her voice trembling with a mix of anguish and anger. "He came to my workplace, and I was just about to leave. He had the audacity to say he wanted to 'pay' me, as if I were some streetwalker he had plucked from the curb. Do you understand how deeply insulted I felt?"

A semblance of vulnerability crept into her eyes as she continued, her gaze finally meeting Ruan's. "I can't decide which is worse, Ruan," she confessed with raw honesty, her voice laced with pain. "The not knowing who he was, or the knowledge that he is an abhorrent scumbag who places a price tag on everything. He didn't even care that I was unconscious. To him, I'm just another conquest, another nameless encounter. To him, I was indistinguishable from any other woman he had defiled. He doesn't even comprehend the difference between a virgin and a 'whore.'"

As the weight of her traumatic experiences pressed down upon her, Adina's emotional floodgates opened. Tears streamed down her cheeks, their release long overdue. In the past two weeks, she had maintained a facade of stoicism, her emotional turmoil hidden behind walls of inner strength. However, at this moment, she succumbed to the overwhelming wave of emotions, allowing herself to break down completely.

Ruan, a steadfast presence beside her, offered her the solace and support she needed. He made no attempts to stifle her tears or hush her sobs. Instead, he encircled her with his comforting embrace, a silent gesture of understanding and empathy. No questions were asked, no judgments passed; he simply held her, allowing her the space and time to heal.

The passage of time during this cathartic release was uncertain. Moments blurred into one another as Adina leaned on Ruan's unwavering support. In that moment, Ruan was a refuge, a sanctuary where she could unravel the layers of pain and vulnerability she had kept hidden. He was more than a friend; he was family, the brother she had never had.

Ruan's gentle fingers threaded through Adina's hair, a comforting gesture as he finally disrupted the heavy silence that had lingered between them.

"Max is on his way. We're going to have a fantastic girls' day and night out, and you're not missing it. A dose of pampering with a manicure, pedicure, skin care, and some shopping. Then we're returning here for an epic movie marathon," he declared with unwavering determination.

Adina, on the verge of voicing her objections, found herself held more tightly by Ruan, who left no room for dissent. "It's either you join us or prepare for me to drag you along. I refuse to leave you here, wallowing in self-pity. That's not happening," he asserted, effectively countering her initial plan of self-imposed solitude.

Fearing that she might be an uncomfortable third wheel due to the limited time Ruan had spent with Max lately, Adina lifted her head from his shoulder and peered up at him.

Ruan, however, dispelled her concerns with a reassuring smile. "No, sugar, we're doing this for you. Max is sponsoring our little escapade because he's concerned that you haven't been yourself lately. Neither he nor I will accept 'no' as an answer."

Adina had grown quite fond of Max since she had met him multiple times during their sleepovers. He exuded a down-to-earth charm despite his high-paying corporate job as a secretary. The man he worked for had to be incredibly affluent, given the generous compensation Max received. Most importantly, Max made Ruan genuinely happy. Adina hadn't seen her friend this content since they first met, as his previous relationships had never reached this level of seriousness.

Immediately seizing upon her excuse to avoid going out, Adina brought up the laundry situation. "What should I wear? I don't even have anything to wear. I've been such a mess lately that I haven't even had the chance to do laundry." Her words held a grain of truth, but it was also a veiled attempt to wriggle out of their plans, though she knew that staying in wouldn't be the best solution for her current state of mind.

"Apologies, sugar, but that's not going to cut it. I've got you covered," Ruan asserted with a determined tone.

Adina couldn't help but resist, adamant about not borrowing any of Ruan's undoubtedly glamorous attire, despite his impressive collection of super sexy dresses. Ruan was known for his penchant for dressing up, often participating in drag shows several times a week. His collection was nothing short of legendary.

Ruan, however, revealed that it wasn't his wardrobe but hers that held the solution. "No, not mine, but yours," he insisted. "I already took care of your laundry while you were, well, not exactly 'watching,' but more like 'staring' at the TV a few hours ago. So, it's all clean and ready. I'll pick something out for you. How does that sound?"

His prowess in fashion and his eye for color combinations were well-known. Ruan possessed the extraordinary ability to elevate an ordinary shirt into a designer masterpiece with his sense of style. His reputation as the "queen of drag" was well-deserved.

Cautiously, Adina emphasized, "Nothing too fancy," aware that the only fancy dress in her wardrobe was the one Ruan had gifted her for a party just two weeks ago.

Ruan, understanding her preferences, concurred, "Of course, just a pair of jeans and something to go with them. By the way, your wardrobe could use a little updating; you don't have anything fancy in there."

Adina silently nodded, concealing her amusement. She knew that Ruan and she had different definitions of what constituted "fancy." He regarded designer dresses as fancy, whereas her notion of fanciness extended to anything resembling a dress.

Ruan played the role of taskmaster for a moment, urging her to take a shower and not to dawdle. His half-joking threat of assisting her personally if she took too long drew a smirk from Adina.

As she attempted to rise, a wince escaped her lips when she placed too much weight on her left shoulder. Ruan, concerned for her well-being, offered to inspect her bruises. Adina realized she was in for an earnest lecture, which she expected as part of her friend's caring nature.

When Adina had returned home that fateful night, her emotional numbness had shielded her from noticing the extent of the bruises, or any pain for that matter. It was only now, as she stood in the solitude of her bathroom, that she began to truly perceive the aftermath etched upon her body. There were deep, contused imprints on her arms, forearms, and shoulders, and an array of them scattered across her thighs and back. The sheer severity of the situation became evident from the fact that some of these injuries had not yet completely faded.

Adina was adamant in her pursuit to unearth the truth of what had transpired, determined not to remain in the dark about an incident that had occurred while she was drugged and, subsequently, passed out. Her memories of that night were like fragmented jigsaw pieces, causing her frequent headaches and leading her to halt her relentless quest for answers.

Wincing as she gingerly removed her shirt, she exposed the most agonizing bruise—the bite mark. It stood out vividly against her skin, still throbbing with intense discomfort.

Ruan, ever the voice of reason and concern, attempted to persuade her to seek medical attention, aware of her aversion to hospitals. He questioned her, "Adi, sweetheart, I understand your reluctance, but you really ought to have this looked at before it becomes infected. You mentioned it had healed, but it seems like you've developed an infection. Soon, you might start running fevers."

Adina acknowledged his concern with a contemplative sigh. The pain around her shoulder had indeed intensified over the past two weeks, and the surrounding area had grown progressively tender. The grim reality she had been avoiding was gradually catching up with her.

Ruan proposed a compromise. "How about this? After you shower, I'll apply some numbing cream to your shoulder. Then we can make a quick stop at the ER. I'll take care of the expenses. What do you think?"

Recognizing the potential obstacle of money that might be stopping her from seeking help, Ruan reassured her, "More like Max will cover the bills." This elicited a smile from Adina, who had faith in Max's willingness to assist. Ruan, despite rolling his eyes at her response, affirmed, "His money is my money, and he won't mind, I promise."

The bonds between the trio ran deep, transcending financial support. Despite their occasional exasperation with each other's overprotectiveness, the sense of belonging and the assurance of their unerring support during difficult times was an invaluable treasure that Adina truly appreciated.

Accepting Ruan's wise advice, Adina rose from her seat, deciding not to argue this time. The prospect of an infection was a specter she had no desire to confront, and letting it linger would likely exacerbate the problem. Observing Ruan extracting his phone, presumably to make arrangements, she made a brief detour to Ruan's room, swiping his shampoo, which had a more appealing fragrance than her own. She had begun to find her usual brand unsettling lately, an olfactory quirk she attributed to the stress that had permeated her life.

Once in the bathroom, she turned on the shower, patiently waiting for the water to reach an inviting temperature while she proceeded to brush her teeth. Even the toothpaste brand Ruan favored had a more pleasant scent compared to her usual choice. She swiftly stepped into the shower, understanding the urgency of her situation. Despite the limitations imposed by her injured shoulder, she managed to complete her washing routine as quickly as possible.

About twenty minutes later, when she emerged from the bathroom, a sight met her eyes that both surprised and amused her. Ruan sat in her bedroom, perched on her bed, clutching a blow dryer and several hair tools laid out beside him.

"Ah, you've used my shampoo again," he chided with a mischievous glare. The telltale scent clung to Adina, revealing her transgression.

With an air of nonchalance, Adina retorted, "What? Your shampoo smells amazing. I promise I'll help you buy more once I get paid." Her sincerity was evident, as she had every intention of switching to a brand that didn't induce waves of nausea every ten seconds.

Ruan, demonstrating his understanding, offered, "You can use it anytime you want. It smells amazing on you too. We'll get more later; it's almost finished." Adina nodded, grateful for his generosity.

Observing the assortment of hair tools and the blow dryer strewn across her bed, Adina inquired, "What's all this?" She gestured toward the intriguing array of hair accessories, her curiosity piqued.

"I'll assist with your hair today. I'd prefer you not to tie it up, and ditch the glasses in favor of contact lenses," Ruan directed, gesturing toward the assortment of hair supplies laid out on the bed.

Adina raised the prospect of occupying the chair in front of the mirror, contemplating a more traditional setup. However, Ruan argued, "And that wouldn't be a surprise."

Adina's response, tinged with humor, was, "When you put it that way, you make me feel like I'm getting ready for a date."

To this, Ruan quipped, "Oh, but you are. With two of your favorite people."

The underlying truth in his statement did not escape her, and she acknowledged it with a nod. Her curiosity still lingering, she inquired, "Do I have to dress up and curl my hair?"

Ruan was unyielding in his response, emphasizing, "Honey, when I'm in charge of your hair, I don't want you looking like an overworked individual with less than five minutes to spare for herself, resulting in a hasty, messy bun."

Adina found herself in reluctant agreement. She had grown accustomed to the simplicity of her daily routine, usually consisting of securing her hair in a ponytail or a casual bun. Additionally, she typically allowed her hair to air-dry rather than taking the time to blow-dry it.

With a sense of resignation, Adina finally seated herself before the dresser, her gaze wandering over to the painting she had received from her mother only a month prior to their tragic accident. Her parents had always been staunch supporters of her dreams, endorsing her chosen path regardless of what she studied. The painting stirred a plethora of joyful memories, and the bittersweet recollections brought tears to her eyes as she mourned the profound loss.

Her unintended reverie went unnoticed until Ruan's voice punctured her daze, pulling her back to the present. "I didn't catch that," Adina admitted.

Ruan, clearly absorbed in the task, simply stated, "I said, I'm done."

Adina's surprise at his efficiency became evident as she responded, "That was fast."

"You kind of zoned out on me there. I noticed when I saw you fixated on that painting," Ruan observed with a keen eye, gesturing towards the artwork. "Your parents were incredibly talented," he commented, and Adina concurred with a simple "They were."

The advantage of having two artistic parents was not lost on her. Growing up in such an environment exposed her to the world of color combinations, techniques, and creativity. However, Adina humbly acknowledged her limitations, admitting she couldn't pair two colors without the risk of appearing mismatched.

Ignoring her momentary distraction, Ruan urged her to get dressed and indicated a set of attire he had thoughtfully arranged. A pair of mom jeans, a white shirt she had yet to don, and ankle boots were neatly laid out by the foot of the bed. Adina couldn't help but wonder how these seemingly disparate pieces would come together to form a cohesive outfit. She skeptically asked, "How is that all going to work together?"

Ruan, with an air of confidence, reassured her, "Just get dressed, and I'll demonstrate how to put everything together for a stylish and fashionable look."

Following his guidance, Adina adorned the mom jeans, raising them to her midriff, and donned the white shirt, allowing it to drape casually to her mid-thigh. The jeans concealed the boots, and the combination struck her as unconventional. However, Ruan didn't stop there. He artfully tucked half of the shirt to create an off-shoulder style, expertly folding the jeans at her ankles to highlight the distinctive boots. As a finishing touch, he removed the clip that had held her hair up, allowing her curls to cascade freely around her shoulders.

Adina now stood transformed, her attire exuding chic and sophistication. Ruan's expertise in the art of fashion had certainly worked its magic, bestowing upon her the appearance of a queen.