32- Finessed Or Not?

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Maduka's POV~

Tasha has ruined it all, I think as I stand a few metres from the bed on which Nwanyieze sits, holding the scandalous scrap of material and gazing up at me. My legs have turned to lead, my body feels frozen, and my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth.

She rises to her feet and takes slow, deliberate steps towards me. Her hands are cold to the touch when she takes one of mine, places the thong in it, and closes my fingers around it. While doing this, her eyes never leave mine. I see no emotion in those beautiful eyes; tears are gathered at the corners, but other than that, she holds her head up and keeps her face blank.

"Keep it well for her," she whispers before gently tapping my hand and turning away to leave my room.

In that instant, the fear hits me hard in the gut.

She's leaving. She's walking out that door for good.

My body finally regains it's animation and I follow her. The thong drops from my hand, forgotten. She is in the sitting room, slipping her feet into her sandals.

"Don't go," I blurt. For a man good with words, I'm doing quite terribly because I'm equally in shock, and angry with myself, with Tasha and her schemes.

Nwanyieze pauses to look up at me. The tears have finally spilled down her cheeks but it is her expression that terrifies me the most, that mask on her face that betrays nothing. Has she already signed me off?

"I can explain this, I swear it."

"That would be really unnecessary," she replies coolly.

"Last night, my ex-girlfriend came here. She was drunk-"

"And I don't need to know the details!"

Finally. An outburst.

"We didn't do anything. I don't know how her underwear found its way underneath my pillow, she must have-"

She surprises me with laughter. Her shoulders shake uncontrollably and she doubles over.

"That is the funniest thing I've heard today, Maduka."

Nwanyieze turns to show me her back, then runs a hand over her behind.

"Do you see any Pampers diapers here? No? I am not a child, Maduka. If anything, I gave up my childhood too quickly. Your ex girlfriend does not come over and have her underwear-and a very raunchy one at that- disappear mysteriously from her waist and seek refuge underneath your pillow."

I'm trying, I'm trying to be calm, I'm trying to get her to understand that I'm not playing. I want her to know that I'm serious, that she's important to me. I take a step forward.

"Don't," she warns.

"Her name is Tasha. We were together for two years before splitting up because she felt I wasn't rich enough."

"I'll hear none of it, thank you very much."

But she's still standing by the door, her body language telling me that she wants to hear me out, even for a short while. I step closer, a slow movement.

"For the past few months, Tasha has been showing up at places I go to. The club, the gym, church. That night at Quilox, when you needed a ride from me, you met me running off thinking you were her."

Nwanyieze says nothing. Don't stop responding now.

"She showed up drunk last night. I couldn't send her home because she was in such a bad shape, and so I gave her one of the guest rooms. The next day, she was in my bed."

Preordained #ProjectNigeriaजहाँ कहानियाँ रहती हैं। अभी खोजें