Esme sat in stunned silence on the floor, Julian's harsh words echoing relentlessly in her ears. 'I don't love you; I never did.'
Where did she go wrong? Why couldn't she see that he never loved her?
Julian had always been nice to her and cared about her. How could he not love her?
Esme refused to believe it. However, she couldn't help but think about his growing lack of interest in her.
Things between them began to change when he left town for further studies. His visits back home grew sporadic, and his responses to her calls lacked the same eagerness she felt. Julian's life evolved as he pursued a job post-graduation, further reducing his visits to his parents' place.
Esme had blissfully ignored all these facts and clung to the hope that he loved her as much as she did. How foolish she was.
Esme's body shook with convulsive sobs as she allowed her pain to flow freely with her tears. She felt foolish. She saw the folly of her choices and the sacrifices she had made.
She laughed, a hollow sound filled with irony and regret. She had wasted her time on someone who never cared about her, someone who had never intended to return her love. She had given her all to Julian, and he had thrown it all away without a second thought. Her future seemed bleak, and her heart was heavy with grief.
Esme refused to accept the treatment she'd received. She knew she deserved far better than a deceitful partner.
"Julian, you fool," she muttered with disdain. "You dared to cheat on me. I will show you what you have lost. You will regret it, and I'll make sure about that."
As Esme got to her feet, her tears had dried up and she was filled with a fierce resolve. She took in the lavish surroundings of the bedroom, the expensive furniture and decorations that seemed to mock her now. A scornful scoff escaped her lips.
"Humph. You offered me a place to stay. Do you think I can't afford a hotel? I am Esme Shaw, the daughter of the esteemed lawyer, Dexter Shaw. I could buy a house in the heart of the city. You fool. Do you think I'll beg for your forgiveness, as I did before? No."
She shook her head firmly. "You've seen my love. Now, get ready for my revenge." Her determination solidified, and a steely resolve glinted in her eyes as she made her intentions clear—to reclaim her dignity and make Julian rue the day he crossed her.
She turned on her heel and strode out of the bedroom. Her phone rang, and without a second thought, she answered, anticipating her friend's call.
"Hello. Am I talking to Miss Shaw?" a gruff voice asked.
Esme's momentum faltered as she halted in her tracks, her anger momentarily forgotten. "Who are you?" she inquired, confusion lacing her voice.
"I'm your lucky co-passenger. We met on the flight, remember?" The voice sounded scornful, and it reminded Esme of the obnoxious yet handsome man she had encountered earlier.
Flashback…
Esme was running late, and the boarding had already started by the time she finished security checking.
Stepping into the business class section, she found herself sharing a seat with a remarkably handsome man. His presence was striking, capable of captivating any woman's attention.
Esme acknowledged his undeniable magnetism. She might have found herself drawn to this man if she had not been in love with Julian.
Engrossed in his laptop, the man seemed entirely immersed in his work, paying no heed to her arrival. His opulent attire, the glint of a Rolex on his wrist, and an aura of affluence and confidence hinted at his considerable wealth and stature.
With a sense of resignation, Esme stowed her handbag in the overhead compartment before taking her seat next to him. She wanted to get to Julian quickly so she asked her friend to book a flight ticket for her. At the last minute, there was only one ticket left and it was for the business class. That was why she was sharing the seat with a handsome, wealthy man.
However, Esme was not interested in knowing him. She reclined on the seat and closed her eyes. Exhaustion crept in, and, she succumbed to weariness, drifting into a restless slumber.
Esme's sleep was abruptly disrupted by a violent jolt that rocked the aircraft. The captain's voice crackled through the speakers, alerting passengers to a storm causing turbulence.
The plane's erratic movements churned Esme's stomach, fear gripping her as thoughts of a catastrophic crash invaded her mind. Unconsciously, she gripped her co-passenger's arm tightly, her eyes squeezed shut in dread.
As the aircraft eventually stabilized, Esme realized her tight hold on the man beside her. A blush of embarrassment stained her cheeks. She hurriedly released his arm and attempted an apology. "I'm sorry. The turbulence, I was..."
"I know women like you very well. You don't miss an opportunity to seduce a handsome, wealthy man." Before she could finish, his scornful words cut through her like a knife, leaving her speechless and wounded.
She rallied, defending herself against his unjust assumptions. "Excuse me, I'm not trying to seduce you. Don't be so proud of yourself. Not every woman will fall for you. I am not the type of woman you are thinking about."
He leaned over to her and asked huskily, "Care to tell me what type of woman you are?"
Esme's stomach flipped once again, this time with annoyance. "I am not your type, and I certainly wouldn't be interested in someone as arrogant as you." She stood up abruptly, towering over the man. "Excuse me." She motioned to a flight attendant. "I want to change my seat."
A kindly-looking man in the adjacent seat spoke up. "Miss, you can sit here if you want. I don't mind switching seats with you."
Esme smiled gratefully at the man and accepted his offer. As she sat down in her new seat, she couldn't help but feel relieved to be away from the rude and obnoxious passenger. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm her frazzled nerves as the plane continued its descent.
The man maintained his sly smile, engrossed in his laptop, seemingly unperturbed by the recent exchange with Esme.
As the flight finally landed, Esme swiftly retrieved her bag from the overhead bin. Ignoring the arrogant man, she hurried through the airport.
End of flashback…
Esme fumed at the thought that he might have been tracking her to get her number.
"What do you want?" Her words were clipped, her irritation evident in her tone.
"You've taken my bag," he accused.
Esme gasped, her eyes darting to the bag on the sofa. In a moment of realization, she recognized that it wasn't hers, even though it shared the same black color.
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she acknowledged her oversight, having hastily grabbed a similar-looking bag without verifying its ownership. She pondered how to apologize to the man on the phone.
"I called out to you, but you just walked out without looking back," he continued, his tone now tinged with irritation. "Return my bag right away, or else I'll toss your bag in the garbage."
Esme sighed, recalling the distant shouts she had ignored at the airport in her haste.
"Calm down, Mister whatever," she retorted flatly, trying to quell the escalating tension. "I'll return your bag. Don't worry. Where should I meet you?"
After a brief pause, she heard him instruct, "Moon's bar."