Twisted

11: Past Tenses

Beverly

There was no response from him after I blurted: "I can't keep it", all that filled the room was soft breathing from behind me. He was asleep. Right arm tucked under my breast area, left hand, tightly wrapped around my waist, my ass pressing against his crotch, and since he was far into sleep, I couldn't bring myself to wake him up and repeat what I'd just said, so I forced myself to sleep that night.

The idea of being the mother of his baby excited me but the reality... our reality saddened me. It was like a 60kg stone chained to my legs, pulling me down an ocean of doubt and insecurities, because it was one thing to be in love and it was another to be in love with an elite nor—

"If you're going to stand there and stare into thin air, you might as well leave," He deadpans, drawing me back to reality as he looks away from me and walks over to the wardrobe.

It's silent for a few seconds before I break it. "Zay, I didn't realize how ba—"

"It's Zayyad," He sternly cuts off, back turned to me, hands still digging for whatever it is in the wardrobe.

"Sorry," I say, my eyes welling with fresh, hot tears.

The correction wasn't supposed to mean anything but mehn, it treacherously stings. The man at my store this morning, who looked like he was at my mercy, is different from the one in this room with me. That hold I had over him earlier is gone.

Maybe the invite here was even a trap, maybe he wanted to see if I was still stuck on him, or maybe he wants to destroy my ego by unleashing his emotions from two years ago, now... or hold on! Maybe he wanted me to come here so we could fuck... and me, fool, I've delivered myself like DHL package.

I fell inside his trap because I'm evidently not over this man, and whatever he says here is bound to hurt like a blade tearing open one's flesh.

He turns away from the wardrobe and looks at me, eyes reliving an emotion I can't decipher. "Surely you didn't come here to cry, did you?"

I exhale deeply, blinking my tears away before they roll down my cheeks. "I- I...d- didn't mean to hurt you, Zayyad." He rolls his eyes. "I wasn't ready..." I pause to take another deep breath. "I was scared."

"Spare me that bullcrap, will you?"

"No, I was scared. I mean it,"

He arches his right brow, mockingly interested. "Of what?..."

"Of everything," I answer, and his eyes soften, but his demeanor still has the guard up. "There were too many things on the line, Zayyad. I was– we were young. Too young. I still had Uni. I hadn't even achieved one-quarter of my dream. My life journey was ahead and I just couldn't cut it off for a baby... with no ring on my finger. What would people have said? My father would have flipped. My mother would have died of a heart attack. We weren't living in Disneyland, Zayyad. I had to,"

He stares at me. Unfazed. "Where'd all this come from? Because last I remember, you never, not even for two seconds, or even by accident told me any of these... and if you did, I would never have stopped you from whatever choice you decided to make," He says, tone calm and genuine. "You getting an abortion didn't break me as much as the deceit that came after it,"

I know where this is heading and God! I do not want to relive it, so I say: "I did that because I didn't wanna hurt or lose you,"

"But you did! You hurt the fuck out of me!" His voice is thunderous, and the pain glistening in his eyes just makes me want to kill myself. "I bought that house in London and put your name on the papers because I wanted you to have no fears being with me. I didn't want you to have an inch of doubt about how much I wanted you. I wanted your emotions secured, but fuck!" He massages his temples, letting out a loud breath. "I was so stupid."