Bummi.
The next morning, I woke early to my alarm flashing 5:30 AM. It was supposed to wake me at 6:30, but since I was already awake, I turned it off, knowing sleep wouldn't come easily.
I turned to my right—empty. I remembered sharing the bed with someone last night. Where had he gone at this hour?
Reluctantly, I climbed out of bed to search for him. The passageway was quiet; everyone else was still asleep. I headed to the sitting area and turned on the light—no one there.
Where could he be? I didn't think he'd be leaving the country; we had a dinner date with his parents tonight. I checked the study, storeroom, and guest rooms—nothing.
Shivering in the cold air conditioning, I went downstairs to the kitchen, hoping he might have come down for water. But again, nothing.
Returning upstairs, I peeked into the TV room, visitor's lounge, and the large living room—still no sign of him. A knot of worry tightened in my stomach. If I hadn't left my phone in the room, I could have called him.
How many more rooms did I have to check?
Wandering the hallway, I suddenly heard, "Ma, are you looking for something?" I turned to find Nathaniel, Damian's personal guard.
"Yeah, I'm looking for my husband. Have you seen him?"
Did I just say "husband"? I couldn't believe I'd said it so casually.
"He's in the gym house," Nathaniel replied.
Relief washed over me. "Take me to him."
He nodded and led the way.
At the gym entrance, I paused, my eyes drawn to Damian doing push-ups. Shirtless and glistening with sweat, he looked incredible.
When he noticed me, he stopped and stood up in one smooth motion. Damn, that body…
I tried to focus, but his muscular figure was enough to make any girl weak at the knees.
"Hi," he said, walking toward me. Nathaniel excused himself, leaving us alone.
He took off his headphones and hung them around his neck. I had to look up at him, my gaze drawn to his sculpted abs and the tattoo of a dinosaur inside a circle on his left breast. His name was etched above it like a signature.
As if sensing my fascination, he reached for my hand and pulled me closer to his chest.
"Damian," I whispered, trying to pull away, but he held my hand firmly. My palm rested against his sweaty skin, and I could feel his heartbeat.
"Your heart… it's beating softly…" I thought of Ellie Goulding's song, "Beating Heart."
"Yes, and it's beating your name." He suddenly tickled me, and I jolted in surprise.
"Ow!" I lightly punched his chest, but he just chuckled. "Stop." My face burned as I turned away, trying to hide my blush.
I glanced around the gym, impressed by the equipment. "You set this all up yourself?"
"Yup! Want to try something?"
"Me? No way." I scoffed. "I can't even manage a five-minute run."
He crossed his arms, a playful smile on his face. "There are plenty of things you can do aside from running."
"Like lifting weights?" I pointed at the equipment. "Or punching bags? I wouldn't know how to use any of them."
Suddenly, an electric charge shot through me as he wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his head on my shoulder. His warm breath tickled my neck, making my knees feel weak.
"How about I be your tutor?"
"Uhh…" I managed, squeezing out of his embrace and feeling flustered. "I'm a stubborn student and don't want to learn. Thanks, though."
I quickly turned away, my heart racing.
What just happened?
I noticed another piece of equipment—a strange machine with buttons and a smooth floor. "What is this?"
"A treadmill."
Why was his voice so close?
I ran my fingers over the flat buttons of the treadmill. "Wow, this is amazing! I used to see people using these on TV. It feels like a highway in here—ah!" I startled when I turned around and found him looking down at me. I gave his chest a light punch. "You nearly scared me to death, Damian."
Hadn't I left him several meters away just moments ago?
He raised his hands in mock innocence, eyebrows raised. "Did I?" Then he took a step closer, and I instinctively backed up until my back met the cool wall. His hands framed me on either side, effectively trapping me.
God, my heart is beating faster than before. It's as if I'm going to die. "Damian...." My voice suddenly lost.
His eyes linger on my face and land on my lips and I know what's gonna happen next if I don't reciprocate.
His warm breath overshadowed my face, causing my eyelashes to flutter and my eyelids shut down like a computer system. Before I could recall, my lips had been swallowed by another.
Gentle. Soft. Passionate. Slow. Beautiful. Sweet. Mint.
Then suddenly, it became...…..
Rapid. Swift. Quick. Rough. Crazy. War. Racing. Impatient. Wild.
I couldn't take it any longer, neither could he.
My fingers run through his hair, seeking for more.
I can't breathe.
He lifted me up, without breaking the kiss and placed me on the table.
I do myself the honor of wrapping my legs around his waist, moaning his name softly. I think he likes it too. Because I could feel his hands grasping around my waist tightly.
Oh God, anything can happen and I don't care right now. My body is begging for something. My heart is yearning for the same thing and my soul is giving in for more.
"Dude, I've been searching everywhere for you. What are you still doing in the gym by this tim—holy make-out!"
I quickly pushed Damian away and started fixing my clothes.
With the look on his face right now, I think Damian got pissed by the intruder. "Calvin, where are your brain nerves? Did you forget them at home? Did you forget to take them with you? Don't you have any sense of humor in your fucking container called a head? Can't you see that it's not morning yet to bring up a visit?"
I buried my face away like a cheap bitch.
The guy let out a chuckle. "Really? Not morning yet? Are you sure? Or maybe there are no wall clocks in this mansion or probably there are but the batteries are long dead for you to see that it's already 07:38 am, Pal—"
"Seven thirty—what?" I'm so fucking late. "Shit!" I got off the table and dashed out, almost bumping over the guy at the entrance.
Damn! I have to report at 08:30 prompt! God, please don't let me meet traffic on the way. So help me lord.
***********
Anonymous.
Inside the office, a woman felt completely drained. The earphones in her ears offered no relief; all she wanted was a nap.
She had been working herself to the bone lately, determined to earn that promotion. With an appointment later and a stack of tasks piling up on her desk, the pressure was mounting. But she knew a brief rest wouldn't hurt, especially since it was still early in the day.
She removed her earbuds and let her head drop onto the desk, leaving her computer screen aglow beside her. As she began to drift off, hoping for some restful dreams, her mind slipped into memories—unbeknownst to her, these visions were reflections of another person's past.
*********
On a beautiful Saturday morning, a family of three sat together in their small living room, watching TV. The home video was engaging, yet the atmosphere felt strangely muted, with silence enveloping the space.
Suddenly, a young girl, around 13 or 14 years old, jumped up, covering her mouth as if about to be sick. She dashed out of the living room toward the bathroom.
After a moment, she returned to resume watching the movie, but her parents exchanged concerned glances, their expressions questioning.
No one spoke, and they turned their attention back to the screen. It wasn't long before the girl bolted up again, rushing out to throw up. This happened five times in total.
When she finally came back, she looked pale and exhausted. Her parents stood waiting, worry etched on their faces.
"What's wrong with you?" her father asked. "I thought we treated you for malaria and typhoid last week. Is it fever again?"
The girl buried her head and shook it vigorously.
Her mother, sensing something deeper, approached her. "Dear? Can you tell me what's going on?"
"Mami," the girl whispered, still not looking up.
Her mother gently checked her over, but when the girl flinched at the touch, the woman placed her hand on her abdomen and pressed lightly.
"Ow!" the girl winced, causing her parents to exchange alarmed looks.
"Are you... pregnant?" her mother asked, a mix of concern and disbelief in her voice.
The girl shook her head fervently, her hands moving in rhythm with her denial. "No, Mami! I'm not pregnant—I swear!"
"Then why are you flinching?" her mother pressed, placing her hands on her hips. "When was the last time you saw your period?"
When silence fell, her father interjected, his voice rising. "Are you deaf? Answer the question before I lose my temper!"
Tears streamed down the girl's face as she fell to her knees. "It was two months ago, Bami."
Her father froze, shock evident on his face.
Her parents gasped in disbelief.
"How could this happen?" her mother cried, heartbroken.
Trying to rein in his anger, her father took a deep breath. "Who is responsible for this?"
The girl clasped her hands together, pleading. "Bami, please believe me! I don't know how it happened. I was just looking into a black prom invitation card I saw at the mall!"
Her father was skeptical. "You think this is a joke? You don't know how you got pregnant?"
When she nodded, he stormed into his room.
As soon as he left, the girl's mother clasped her hands over her head, sobbing. "You've killed me! You want to be a mother at 13?"
"Mommy, it's not my fault! I didn't mean for this to happen!" the girl cried.
"Stop making excuses! You remember investigating a card but don't know how you ended up like this?" Her mother's voice was sharp with frustration. "Who gave you the assignment to investigate?"
The girl struggled to find the right words. Just then, her father reappeared, a whip in his hand. "If you don't know how you ended up pregnant, then—"
"Wale, please!" her mother interrupted, stepping in front of him. "We can handle this without violence."
"Wale," she implored, "our daughter is already suffering. Let me talk to her."
He glared at her. "Get out of my way. She needs to learn a lesson."
"But Wale—"
"Do you want the whole world to think we're bad parents? That we didn't teach her right from wrong?" His voice was filled with anguish.
Her mother was on the verge of tears. "You think beating her is the answer? It's too late for that now!"
"It can be undone!" he shouted, pointing at their daughter. "We'll take her to the hospital to get rid of this—"
"God forbid!" the mother cried, making a gesture over her head. "Never! Our daughter will not have an abortion. What if she dies?"
"I never said she wasn't my daughter!" he snapped. "But what will society say when her belly starts to show? They'll call us failures!"
Heartbroken, he faced the girl. "You are a disgrace. I regret the day you were born."
"Please, Bami! It was a mistake!" she sobbed.
"How could this happen? You're just like your mother!" he exclaimed, directing his anger at both of them.
"Don't pull me into this!" her mother cried.
"Look at my friend's daughter. She was raised right. What's wrong with you?"
Tears streamed down the mother's face. "Our daughter made a mistake. That doesn't define her worth."
"She will be mocked at school," he continued. "And as for you," he turned back to the girl, "I disown you. You are not my daughter."
"Please, Bami!" she begged, but he turned away, filled with rage.
Her mother rushed to her side, enveloping her in a comforting embrace. "I don't know how this happened, but I feel your pain. We will face this together. You'll have the baby, and I'll help you raise it. We'll shower it with love."
"I'm sorry, Mom," the girl whispered through her tears.
"It's okay," her mother replied, kissing her forehead. "Everything will be alright. It is well."
As the words lingered in the air, she repeated them softly, drifting out of sleep.
Later, she jolted awake, breathless and drenched in sweat.
What kind of dream was that?
She glanced at her wristwatch—it was still morning.
Her throat felt parched. She needed water.
Summoning her remaining strength, she stood but quickly slumped back down, feeling dizzy.
Ouch!
Her head swam, and with a last effort, she reached for the doorknob. But her legs went numb, her vision dimmed, and before she knew it, she collapsed to the ground.