CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT
Entitled Princess
I
know her… but where from?
That
thought had been nagging at me ever since I left the outing with my friends
about ten minutes ago. Now, sitting in the car with Marcus and Lucia, I
continued to rummage through my memories, desperately trying to remember where
I had seen Kylian’s mystery woman before.
She
isn’t exactly a mystery. Her name is Ester Expósito, and I’m pretty sure she’s
an actress. I don’t think we’ve actually met her, though.
An
actress. But in which movie?
I
searched my memories again.
I
think she played a rich girl. she was more like those entitled princesses
But
which movie?
I let
out a frustrated sigh when nothing came to mind.
“Everything
okay?”
I
looked up at the question and caught Marcus’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
Lucia, seated beside him in the front passenger seat, turned around to look at
me as well.
I
shifted in my seat. “Yes, everything is okay.”
Turning
towards the window, I watched the streets of Paris pass by as Marcus drove us
home. Yet the question continued to gnaw at me. Not being able to remember
where I had seen that woman was beginning to eat me alive.
I
don’t think it was a movie. Maybe a drama? We saw her a lot in that one. I’m
pretty sure it had more than one season. And it was Spanish, I think.
My
brows furrowed as I tried to piece everything together.
She
had a boyfriend in it, didn’t she? Was she cheating on him with someone else?
I’m not entirely sure. But someone important died. I think the boyfriend killed
that person… or was he the one who got killed?
I
squeezed my eyes shut, willing the memory to come back.
Was
it in a club? Did someone get killed in a club? And that song… Forever. It
played in the background forever. You loved that song. You even downloaded it.
God, those days before Spotify were torture. You had to download every single
song you liked—
“ELITE!”
The word burst out of my mouth.
“What?”
Marcus and Lucia exclaimed almost simultaneously, both turning to look at me.
“Nothing,”
I muttered, flustered. I sank back into my seat, suddenly aware of their
curious stares.
I saw
her in Elite.
The
Spanish Netflix drama. God, the suspense in that series was intense. I
absolutely loved it. My favourite couple was Omar and Ander, the gay couple.
Ester’s character was Carla and... yes, she was a princess. An entitled one,
too. And her boyfriend did kill someone. She covered it up for him.
But
did she cheat on him?
I
wasn’t entirely sure, but I remembered that she fell in love with Samu while
she was still dating Polo. And yes, Polo died.
The
only fictional character’s death I could say I enjoyed more than Polo’s was
Littlefinger’s from Game of Thrones. Polo was a fucking asshole.
And
Joffrey’s death comes third.
I
never liked Carla in Elite. When she left the series, I didn’t miss her.
I mean, when Ander left, I missed him. When Samu died, my interest in the show
started dwindling. But when Carla left, I was actually happy.
So,
what exactly is the point of all this?
The
point is that Ester Expósito is dating my husband.
And
how do we feel about that?
I
feel fine.
Oh,
really?
Yes,
really.
Okay.
I
mean, he is supposed to be hurting. Alice said he was hurting, right? And Dr.
Berot said his world had come crashing down, just like mine. He was supposed to
be drowning in pain, just as I had been. But instead, he was in another woman’s
arms.
So,
we’re not okay?
I am
perfectly fine. I am okay. We are practically divorced at this point, so I
don’t care if he is with another woman.
Okay.
But
you would think that, considering another woman broke us, he would at least give it a year or two before jumping back into
the dating pool.
Well…
I
mean, our daughter died. Our baby died because of him. How could he even be
thinking about having sex?
So,
you think he’s with her because of sex?
Could
there be any other reason? Have you forgotten his sex drive? And since I am no
longer available to satisfy his needs, he…
Found
someone else.
Yeah...
Or do you think there’s another reason? Maybe he’s trying to make me jealous. I
mean, he knows I would find out, right?
I
don’t know. Are you jealous?
Definitely
not. How could I possibly be jealous when he killed my daughter? I am not
jealous.
Okay.
Maybe
it wasn’t about jealousy. Maybe he actually loves her.
Bewa,
he said he loved you.
Well,
he could have lied about that, just as he lied about everything else. He never
loved me. I was so stupid.
Bewa…
I
mean think about it, one minute, he wasn't in love with me and the very next
minute, he was in love. Can you imagine that level of deceit? That level of
betrayal?
Bewa…
I
will never forgive him.
“Bewaji,
are you okay?” Marcus’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I blinked and found
myself staring into his eyes. He and Lucia had turned completely around in
their seats to face me.
Anyone
looking at them would have seen two people genuinely concerned about me but all
I could see was pity. And it was seriously getting on my nerves.
“I am
okay, Marcus. You need to stop fussing over me. I am not a baby,” I scolded
him. “Kindly look forward and drive properly before you get us killed.”
“We’re
home,” Lucia announced.
What?
And
sure enough, when I looked around, we were home.
Fuck.
“Bewa,
do you need to see Dr. Ber—”
I
opened the door and stepped out before Marcus could finish his sentence. I went
straight to my room and locked myself inside.
Dropping
my bag on the bed, I ran a hand through my hair in frustration and started pacing round the room
Where
did they meet?
Bewa,
don’t do this to yourself.
What
was the connection between them?
Bewaji!
Were
they in love?
BEWAJI,
YOU NEED TO STOP!
Had
he forgotten me? Had he forgotten our daughter? Had he moved on?
You
need to stop obsessing over this. I know you’re hurt.
I am
not hurt. I hate—
For
fuck’s sake, it is high time you stopped lying to yourself! You are hurt. And
no matter what he did, you loved him. You still love him, too. But now is not
the time to obsess over Kylian. You need to focus on healing and rebuilding
your life. You are still very fragile.
I
don’t love him. I hate him.
BEWAJI!
This has nothing to do with love. Our daughter died. He killed her. He destroyed everything we had, everything I thought we were building together. He does not get to be happy.
Bewaji!
I
will destroy every ounce of happiness he finds. I swear I will
My
chest tightened as I stood there, staring at nothing. I could feel the anger
building inside me, hot and suffocating, threatening to consume every rational
thought I had left. I knew I was spiralling. I knew I should stop.
Then
fucking stop
Instead,
I picked up my phone with trembling hands, the one Marcus had gotten for me
after I refused to use my old one or anything tied to my past life. I unlocked
it and then, with my heart pounding and my mind racing, I began scouring the
internet for every piece of information I could find about my husband and his
mistress.
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT SATURDAY, 9PM WAT
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