A twist of hatred

Twisted fates;unraveling deception•

Beauty reclined on a chaise lounge, her swollen feet receiving a soothing massage from a maid. In front of her, an array of dishes waited, a testament to her ever-changing cravings. One moment, she desired one thing, and the next, something entirely different. Her pregnancy-induced appetite was a constant source of amusement for First luv, who sat nearby, flipping through a newspaper. Each time Beauty made a new request, a laugh escaped First luv's lips. Seeing that burgeoning baby bump on Beauty was a source of joy that temporarily pushed aside the weight of their worries.

Suddenly, a familiar voice greeted them with a salaam. Both women turned their heads in near-unison, their gazes locking on the person who stood before them. It was someone neither of them would ever forget. First luv stood up, her heart leaping with joy at the sight of her son, returned to her in good health.

Beauty also managed to rise, her hands resting on her waist to support her gravid frame. She felt a jumble of emotions. Should she be happy or sad? Smile or cry? He was back, that was undeniable, but not as her husband. Perhaps only as the father of her child.

"Dakata Hajiya, we are together. Now please hear me out," the unfamiliar voice implored, and as a courtesy, First love decided to stay and listen to the old man.

Beauty, meanwhile, couldn't help but alternate her gaze between her baby bump and the man before her. He had lost weight and seemed fairer in complexion. Reality hit her like a ton of bricks: he was no longer hers.

In a hurried attempt to distance herself from the situation, she turned and walked away, her breath growing heavy with each step. Walking with the grace of a pregnant woman, she finally reached the elevator. Stepping inside, she was about to close the door when he wedged his foot between them, preventing her escape.

"Beauty," he called out with a sweetness that had once been familiar to her ears. But she couldn't let herself be swayed; he was no longer her husband.

"Who are you, please? I don't think I know you," she questioned, positioning herself defensively in a corner of the elevator.

"Beauty, it's me, your husband, the father of your unborn child," he said, moving closer.

"Well, you aren't my husband, and you never will be. This isn't your chi—"

Before she could finish her sentence, she felt the warmth of his lips pressing against hers. His arms enveloped her waist, pulling her closer, leaving her momentarily stunned and taken off guard.

His kiss was like an unexpected storm, sweeping away her resistance and filling her with a surge of emotions she had long buried. Despite her best efforts to remain composed, her heart betrayed her, racing in response to his touch.

As their lips met, Beauty's initial anger and determination to keep her distance wavered. She found herself entangled in a familiar embrace, a connection that had once been the center of her world. It was a kiss that carried a weight of longing, regret, and the unspoken desire to bridge the gap that had formed between them.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still in the confined space of the elevator. The outside world faded away as they clung to each other, the intensity of their emotions palpable.

Finally, he broke the kiss, their breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. His eyes bore into hers, filled with a mixture of apology and yearning. "Beauty," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "I'm so sorry for everything. I know I've hurt you, but I want to make things right."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him, torn between the pain of the past and the impossibility of a future together.

Beauty's momentary lapse of resistance was just that—an instant in time. As the elevator doors opened, she pushed him away, her resolve returning with newfound strength. She couldn't allow herself to be swayed by a kiss, no matter how passionate or emotional it had been.