𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓥𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓪|| 𝙼𝙹 𝙸𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝙼𝚢 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛

🔴
1983.
𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚊
𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝:2.4k

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Michael walked down the glowing sidewalk, his mind swirling with thoughts. How could something like this get so out of hand? Some random woman claiming he was the father of her child? And now, even the newspapers were getting hold of the story.

"This woman is obsessed with me," Michael muttered to himself, shaking his head. He couldn't figure out why. It had been just a one-night stand. They had danced all night together, he had taken her home, and one thing had led to another. He had never expected it to go this far after nine months. That child wasn't his, and she wasn't even his lover.

As Michael walked past Ronald's corner store, the phone in the booth began to ring. Curiosity got the better of him, and he walked over, hesitating for a moment before picking up the receiver.

His breath was heavy, and he could hear someone breathing on the other end as well.

"Hello?" Michael said, sounding confused.

"Hello, Michael," came a seductive voice.

Michael's grip tightened on the phone. "What the hell do you want?" he demanded. He knew the voice all too well, the voice that had haunted his thoughts for months. Even your sweet moans were unforgettable.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" You replied, your tone dripping with a mixture of playfulness and malice.

Michael clenched his jaw. "We are not friends. You need to stop this. Stop calling me."

"But, Michael," you purred, "we have a connection. You can't just walk away from that."

"There is no connection," he snapped. "It was one night. That's it. And that child ain't mine."

There was a pause, then a low, throaty laugh. "You can deny it all you want, but you know the truth. Deep down, you know."

Michael's stomach churned with anger and anxiety. "Stay away from me," he warned. "This has to stop."

"We'll see about that," you said, your voice now a chilling whisper. "Goodnight, Michael."

The line went dead, and Michael slammed the receiver down, his hands trembling. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He couldn't let her get to him. Not anymore.

As he walked toward the motel where he was staying, Michael reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his keys. The jacket hung loosely over his shoulders, and he loosened the red bow tie around his neck, unbuttoning his shirt just a bit. He unlocked the door and went inside, immediately locking it behind him. With a heavy sigh, he placed his things on the stand next to the door.