Chapter 8.
1152 Words
Chapter 8: Diabetes Dilemma
Devon Drawson
It was a beautiful Tuesday morning—the kind of morning that teased you into thinking the day would be perfect. The sky was blue, birds were chirping, and traffic wasn’t being its usual demonic self. For once.
Today was my girlfriend’s birthday. Ivay. Queen of high maintenance, empress of drama, but alas, my girlfriend. And I, Devon Drawson, CEO extraordinaire, wanted to do something nice.
A surprise birthday cake. Cute, right?
Unfortunately, my meetings had multiplied overnight like unpaid interns, and I couldn’t sneak out to order the cake myself. So, I did the next best thing—I called Leo.
“Leo!”
“Yes, sir?” His voice had that sleep-deprived tone that screamed, ‘Why do I work for you again?’
“I need a cake delivered to my house by this afternoon. Vanilla base, whipped cream topping, strawberries—and make sure they write ‘To My Sweet Ivay’ on it. With a heart.”
Leo chuckled, “Should I write ‘Please don’t break my heart again’ underneath too?”
“Just get the damn cake.”
He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “slave driver” before hanging up.
I smiled to myself. Operation Birthday Surprise was underway.
---
Dream Dauntson
When my phone buzzed that morning, I was halfway through my favorite breakfast: burnt toast and a mental breakdown.
“Hello?
“Hi, baby girl!!” the voice cheered.
“Leo!” I screamed.
One and only!!!
What up?
My boss wants a cake
I almost choked on my toast. Devon Drawson? Aka Mr. Drowning Demon?
Yes!
“We need a cake delivered to his house. Can you handle it?”
Are you free for today?
“Oh absolutely,” I replied, practically hopping out of my bunny slippers. “Send the address.”
The moment I saw the address, I blinked. That wasn’t just a house—that was a mansion. The kind of place where walls had walls. With gates that needed passwords and a security camera that probably judged your outfit.
I got to baking. Vanilla, whipped cream, strawberries. I even piped a heart. I’m not heartless, after all.
By noon, I was at the gates of The Palace of Privilege.
I rang the bell.
Mr Drowning Demon's mum opened the door. She looked… pale. Alarmingly pale.
“Hi, ma’am. I’m here to deliver—”
She gasped, clutched her chest, and crumpled to the floor.
“Metformin…” she whispered.
Panic gripped my stomach. “What?”
“Metformin… bag…”
My eyes darted to the side table. Her purse. I fumbled through it like my life—or rather, hers—depended on it.
Bingo. A small bottle labeled Metformin. I grabbed a glass of water nearby, popped a pill out of the bottle, and gently helped her take it.
She passed out.
“OH SWEET MERCY!” I panicked.
Somehow, I managed to hoist her onto the sofa. I mean, not entirely, one of her legs was still hanging off, but it was the best I could do.
I called out, “Ma’am? Can you hear me?”
Slowly, her breathing steadied. She fluttered her eyes open. “Thank you… my child, Dream right?
" Yes ma'am ,Dream Davina Dauntson.”
She smiled weakly. “You’re a dream indeed.”
I helped her into her room. It was warmer there, and she seemed to settle into the bed more comfortably. She motioned for me to sit.
“You know… Devon was a chubby baby. Loved to eat biscuits dipped in orange juice. Don’t ask.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So he was a child once. Shocking.”
She laughed. “He’s a handful now, but he’s got a heart. Just doesn’t always show it.”
---
Devon Drawson’s POV
Work dragged like a snail stuck in glue.
At exactly 6:45 PM, I slammed my laptop shut.
Time to surprise Ivay.
I drove home, humming. Operation Birthday Surprise was about to be executed.
As I opened the door, I immediately noticed the birthday cake on the floor.
“What the…”
Why was it on the floor? Who was in my house?
“Gina?” I called out. Oh wait. Gina was off today.
“Mum?” No answer.
I raced upstairs.
“Mum!”
“In here, Dammy…” her voice was soft, almost sleepy.
I burst into her room—and there she was. With her.
Dream Dauntson. The walking contradiction. Dressed in flour-stained jeans and a frosting-smudged shirt.
“You?!” I pointed.
“You!” she echoed, standing.
“What the hell did you do to my mum?”
“Be nice, Dammy,” Mum said, patting my hand. “She saved me. I had an episode.”
“Oh.”
I looked at Dream. “Thank you, I guess.”
She folded her arms. “You guess? Your thank you is as empty as your soul, Mr. Drowning Demon.”
“You two should get married already,” Mum said, clapping excitedly.
“What?!” we both shouted.
“Me? Marry him? Not in this lifetime,” Dream barked.
“Me? Marry her? She’d turn the wedding into a bakery disaster.”
“Never say never, children,” Mum said, giggling. “Love works in strange ways.”
I shook my head. “Anyway, I’m heading to Ivay’s. It’s her birthday today.”
“That girlfriend of yours…” Mum muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, dear. Have fun.”
I eyed her. “Right.”
I picked up the cake—still perfectly intact in its box—and left the house.
I added more to the gifts: a luxury handbag, designer heels, and that ridiculously overpriced perfume she liked. The one that smelled like confusion and regret.
---
Ivay’s Apartment
Her door was ajar.
“Huh. Maybe she’s surprising me too.” I smiled, butterflies flapping their wings like mad.
I pushed the door open.
“Babe?”
No answer.
I walked down the hall. Music was playing faintly from her room.
Then I heard it.
Moaning.
I froze.
No. No. No way.
I pushed the door open.
There she was. In bed. With another man. Naked as the day she was born.
“IVAY?!”
She gasped. The man scrambled like a rat.
“Devon—this isn’t—”
“Save it.”
I dropped the cake on the nightstand like a bomb.
“This was your cake.”
Then the bags. “And these? These were your gifts.”
I turned, walking away, heart pounding like tribal drums.
“Devon wait!” she called.
I turned back briefly. “I walked in with love, and I walked out with proof I’m a damn fool.”
I slammed the door shut.
I still can't believe she cheated on me!
Unbelievable!
- Writer
