Still wallowing in the pit of uncertainty, no words left my lips. I could have protested; living with a man, I barely knew. This wasn’t how I planned on getting married. I had always dreamt of getting married to Michael. He and I would live in a nice, sweet home and have two kids. Michael wasn’t a cat person, but he said he wouldn’t mind having one because of me.
This wasn’t the life I had envisioned for myself.
A year trickled down my face as I stifled the sobs about to break out of my throat.
Mr. Adiaga's eyes dipped at a rare moment of what I thought was sympathy. “Oh no, don’t cry,” he said with an exaggerated, warm voice. “Many women would kill for this life.”
Kill to become a slave to a man as heartless as he was. I spat to my feet. “Good night. I need rest.”
"But the didn’t date isn’t over,” Mr. Adiaga said.
Saving whatever was left of my dignity, I jutted my chin. “Until the wedding, I am still the owner of my life.”
He wiggled his brows, and his face contorted into a rosy expression. “You are one hell of an interesting woman.”
My eyes widened, but quickly I narrowed them. He didn’t deserve a reaction from me. Without responding, I swung around and strutted out of the restaurant.
.
.
Immediately after I got home, I took off my heels and turned on the light bulb. The bright white light shone on the walls of the apartment, but it couldn’t reach the walls of my heart.
I sprawled on the sofa, the tight dress bridling my movement. My hands flew to my neck. The diamond necklace looked more like a collar confining me than an accessory.
The next fifteen minutes were spent on the sofa, thinking of ways to escape from this predicament. Would running back to London save me? Then what if the chaos followed me to London and then I drowned not only me but my aunty?
As I grunted, simultaneously, a knock on my door filled the air. I whipped my head to the door and the clock—8 pm.
Once again, my heart thudded. Who could it possibly be now? I picked up the white flower vase on my coffee table and drew closer to the door.
“Who is there?” My grip on the base tightened.
“A package for Ms. Elizabeth from Mr. Adiaga” A man’s voice came from the other side of the door.
Dropping the vase on the floor, I opened the door. A delivery man stretched out his hand, holding a package. “Mr. Adiaga ordered this meal for you.”