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Reader's Name: Fatima. Starring: Morris Chesnut.
▶︎▶︎Part 2/2.◀︎◀︎
♡♥︎♡
The sun's rays gently peeked through the thick grey blinds, he stirred from his slumber. His head throbbed with the aftermath of a wild night, and he instinctively rubbed his hands across his face, groaning in discomfort. The soft rustling of his body on the crisp white bedsheets tempted him to dive back into sleep, Fumbling in the stillness, he reached out for his wife, only to find a cold and vacant space beside him. He knew she must be busy tidying up around the house, her gentle footsteps filling in their spacious bedroom. The four walls surrounding them, painted in a rich chocolate brown hue, Adorning these walls were framed pictures capturing their cherished moments together, alongside a few artistic paintings of them.
She took his attire from the previous night and puts them in the laundry basket as she brought them downstairs to the laundry room, Before she entered the laundry room, a smile spread across her face upon seeing her husband peacefully asleep in their bed.
"Wow, my two-time champion had a great night huh?" she whispered, her voice filled with awe as she gently shook her head in disbelief. The relief washed over her, knowing he had made it home safely after such a great night.
His wife was unaware of a significant portion of the truth, and Morris knew he needed to confess to her about his infidelity with Fatima, a woman who took a picture with him just one week prior to his second-time championship victory.
The burden of guilt was consuming him entirely, Morris was too drunk that he couldn't drive himself, resulting in him choosing a taxi ride instead. Additionally, he reached out to his friend for help in getting back home last night.
When he arrived home, his wife helped him into the house, and all he managed to do was take a hot shower, hoping to purify himself from his sins, before carelessly tossing his clothes onto the bedroom carpet.
Morris was shirtless and wearing only his boxers, collapsed onto the bed. He pulled his wife towards him, nestled her against his chest, and slowly gave in to a deep slumber with his eyes shut tightly. He kept on hearing the sinister laughter of Fatima echoing in his subconscious, tormenting his nightmares.
With his eyes half-open, he grew annoyed by the persistent ringing of the phone on the dresser. Frustrated at his inability to get more sleep, he exhales a quiet groan. He picked up the phone, placing it against his ear. "Hello? Who is this?" Morris mumbled, still feeling the effects of last night's drunkenness.
"You know who this is, Mr. Two-Time Champion." Fatima playfully sang, her finger twirling the phone cord with a mischievous smirk on her face.
He widened his eyes upon hearing the familiar voice and swiftly got out of his side of the bed, with his feet touching the cool carpet. "How the fuck do you get this number Fatima?" Morris shot back, his brows tightly furrowed as his frustration escalated.
