I wipe my damp hands against the versace black gown I'm putting on before swinging the door open to welcome my family.
"Mom! Peter! Paul!" I embrace each one of them, making sure the fake sweet smile I plastered on my face didn't fade.
"You didn't invite us to your wedding, Aunty Sarah." Peter, my seven year old step brother says before hopping into the mansion.
"You didn't even bother to tell us about Micheal. And the marriage proposal. I had to find out about it all through your friend." My mother spits out through seethed teeth. She made sure to exaggerate the disappointment in her voice.
"Mom," I begin, my right hand going to massage a throbbing vein on my temple, "I was going to explain—"
"Don't," she cuts me off with a raised finger, "we are supposed to be the first to know about—"
She gasps, interrupting herself. The bewildered look on her face matches the one I had the first day I stepped into Micheal's mansion.
The house still looks too exquisite no matter how many weeks I've lived in it.
"I love your house, Aunty Sarah!" Paul, the five year old exclaims before joining his brother to run around the large living room.
"Is this place for real?"
"Looks like something carved out of a fairy tale, right?" I chuckle.
"Is this made from a real gold?" she asks, starting up at the golden chandelier hanging down from the centre of the room.
"I think so."
"Is that why you didn't think of inviting your step father and I to the wedding?"
Here we go again.
I try not to roll my eyes as I explain to her that Micheal and I just did court marriage. And we haven't talked about any wedding.
The horror that fills her face next takes me by surprise.
"Is that why you want to remove the baby?" she asks in a hush voice.
"Mom!"
"What?! What, Sarah? That's not a good reason to end things and you know it. Your father and I went through worse."
We both sit. The boys continue running around. While she continues looking around the house, with a twitch of admiration gleaming in her eyes, I wonder where she got such ridiculously stupid theory from.
"Mom," Micheal's voice booms from the front door. He strides towards my mother with open arms, "Hello…"
I stand and introduce them. Paul scampers towards Micheal, as if coming to hug him. But he stops midway and frowns up at him.
"This isn't George. You didn't marry George?"
"No, I didn't, sweetie." I reply with an awkward laughter, hoping that would do the trick.
But Peter decides to add fuel to the fire by chipping in his two cents opinion, "Why Aunty Sarah? Isn't George your boyfriend?"
"Sometimes we don't end up marrying our boyfriends."
"Really? But my teacher married her boyfriend last week. And—"
"Who's George?" Micheal asks, turning to fully face me.
"He is Aunty Sarah's boyfriend and they love each other." Paul said before hopping away from the living room.
The silence that descends us the following minute is too thick that it can be sliced through with a knife.
When Mom tries to break the silence with questions about proper wedding plans. Michael mutters something about an emergency meeting and rushes out of the house with tense shoulders.
I've just finished having my bath and was sitting in the dressing mirror, applying my night cream when my phone starts ringing. I peep through the broken screen, and on seeing Natasha's name as the caller ID, I watch my icy blue eyes darken with hatred in the mirror.
Out of everything Natasha had done to me throughout our friendship days, I'll categorize this as the second worst of it all.
But since I didn't want her to trace the pain in my voice, I fake my usual excited voice, "Natty!"
"I have something I need to tell you, Sarah. Are you busy?"
That was so direct. Is she already tired of playing the fake friend and wants to confess about almost sabotaging my career?
If only Micheal is willing to also confess like this. We'll close this case and I'll continue with my normal life.
"George and I are in love."
The colour drains from my face. I turn ashen. My throat clamps tight.
What did she just say?
As if hearing my thoughts, she repeats her words, this time louder.
"You're in love?" That's all I could ask.
"Yes, Sarah. I've loved him so much ever since I set my eyes on him and we're thinking of—"
With a rage so pure and undiluted, I fling the phone against the wall. The poor screen of the device snaps into half.
My legs, too agitated and restless to stay at a spot, I begin pacing around the room. Cursing and sweating. Even though the evening weather is too cool to chill a bone.
I keep mumbling, "George and Natasha can't be in love." till my brain got tired of processing the same sentence over and over again.
"Who is George?" Micheal asks immediately he enters the room at exactly 10:35pm. By then, I've already exhausted my energy and am now lying flat on the bed.
"Your boyfriend?" he prods when I don't reply.
"My ex. We're already married, remember?"
His gray eyes look pointedly at me as he closes the space between us. Then a smirk follows, "I'm glad you remember. Come here, baby."
It turns out to be a passionate night. Micheal's hands somehow managed to loosen every knot in my stomach, awakening the heat in every cell in my body.
I whimper and squimmer under him as his dick pounds into me and drives me crazy.
We both climax at the same time. Then wrap each other in a warm cuddle, chasing away the cold.
Our housekeeper woke us up the next morning with a nervous tap on the door. She barges in before either of us is fully awake to respond.
"So sorry to wake you up, ma'am, but some man is here to see you."
"Me?"
A strange excitement leaps inside me as I run down the stairs, thinking it would be George. I guess he is here to clear up the misunderstanding. I knew there was no way he was in love with Natasha.
I stopped abruptly on seeing who it was.
"What the hell are you doing here?"