CHAPTER 2: SURPRISINGLY CONNECTED
2113 Words
Naime pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the car window as the city blurred past in streaks of late-afternoon gold and shadow. The realization hit her like cold water down her spine: the man from last night, the stranger whose bed she had stumbled into, was Drevin's brother. Drake. She had left her number scribbled on a neon sticky note beside his coffee maker, a reckless impulse she now regretted with every fiber of her being. Please, she thought, let him have thrown it away without reading it.
She exhaled slowly, fogging the window for a moment.
"You've been quiet," Drevin said from the driver's seat, his voice calm but attentive. "Everything all right?"
"I'm fine, Sir." She forced a small smile and straightened on the leather seat, which still carried the faint scent of his cologne. "Just tired, I think."
"We wrapped up early today. You did excellent work, Naime. We'll drop you at your building."
"Thank you, Sir."
The rest of the ride passed in polite silence. When the car eased to the curb outside her condominium tower, she thanked him again, stepped onto the sidewalk, and lifted her gaze to the sleek glass facade. Fifteenth floor. Her solitary kingdom since she had thrown Clifford out.
Inside the lobby, the air-conditioning wrapped around her like a chill embrace. She crossed to the elevator, pressed the button, and waited. Memories pressed in any way.
She could still see them: Clifford and Shelly tangled in her own sheets, the ones patterned with tiny lavender sprigs she had chosen because they reminded her of their first spring picnic. The image burned behind her eyelids. She had walked in after an early finish at the old travel agency job, grocery bags still in her arms. The bags had slipped to the floor. Apples had rolled across the hardwood. She remembered the dull thud they made, the way Clifford's head jerked up, eyes wide with shock, while Shelly clutched the sheet to her chest and said nothing.
Naime had not screamed. She had simply turned, walked out, and later returned alone to strip the bed, bag Clifford's clothes, and leave everything in the hallway like trash waiting for collection. Shelly never called. Never texted. Never tried to explain.
The elevator chimed. Doors slid open. Naime stepped inside and leaned against the mirrored wall as the car rose. Floor numbers glowed and vanished. She slipped the engagement ring from her finger, turned it once into the light, then dropped it into her purse. The metal felt suddenly foreign, contaminated.
When the doors parted on the fifteenth floor, she stepped into the hallway and stopped.
Clifford sat slumped against her door, knees drawn up, forearms resting on them. His eyes were red-rimmed, hair disheveled in a way she had once found endearing. Now it only looked pathetic. He scrambled to his feet the moment he saw her.
"Naime."
She froze.
He closed the distance in three strides and pulled her into his arms before she could react. His familiar scent, cedarwood aftershave and the faint trace of the gym, flooded her senses. For half a second, her body remembered safety, remembered home. Then fury surged back.
She shoved hard against his chest. He stumbled back a step. Her palm cracked across his cheek with a sound that echoed down the empty corridor.
"Don't you ever come back here," she said, voice low and shaking. "Or I swear I'll call security."
"Naime, please." He touched his reddening face but did not retreat. "Just hear me out. One more chance. I swear this was the last time. I won't—"
"Why her?" The question tore out of her. "Why Shelly? You knew she was my best friend. You knew how much I trusted her."
His shoulders sagged. "I don't know. We were drinking. Talking. It just... happened. But it meant nothing. You're the one I love. You're the one I want to marry. Three years, Naime. Three years. Doesn't that count for anything?"
She laughed, a short, bitter sound that surprised even her. "It counted until I walked in and saw you inside my best friend on our bed."
"I messed up. I'm not perfect. But we can fix this. The wedding's already planned. The venue, the flowers—"
"There is no wedding." She met his gaze steadily. "There is no us. Not anymore."
His jaw tightened. "You're just angry. You'll calm down and—"
"I slept with someone else last night."
The words landed between them like a stone dropped into still water.
Clifford blinked. "What?"
"You heard me." She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "I let another man touch me. Kiss me. f**k me. And you know what? I liked it."
"You're lying." But doubt flickered in his eyes.
She lifted her bare left hand, fingers spread. "Look. No ring. No promises. I'm done waiting for someone who couldn't keep his hands off my best friend."
"Naime—"
"Go home, Clifford." She pushed past him, key already in her hand. "Don't come back."
She unlocked the door, stepped inside, and shut it with a firm click. The lock engaged. She slid down the wood until she sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest. Tears came then, hot and silent, soaking the collar of her blouse.
She cried for the woman who had believed in forever. She cried for the friend who had vanished. She cried for the pieces of herself she had lost along the way.
But beneath the grief, something else stirred—small, fragile, but real.
Freedom.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand, drew a long breath, and rose to her feet.
The apartment was quiet. For the first time in a long time, the silence felt like possibility instead of punishment.
When Naime woke up the next day, her eyes were swollen from crying. Fortunately, it was her day off, and she had no photo shoots scheduled. This meant she had the whole day to herself. As a part-time model, she worked with modest clothing, designer bags, shoes, and cosmetics, and occasionally participated in mall events or special fashion weeks.
Her cellphone rang, and she reached for it groggily. She saw a text message from an unlisted number. Her heart raced; she had a strong suspicion about who might have sent it.
The message, “01-01-01,” was all it said, but Naime knew exactly what it meant. She tossed her cellphone to the side of the bed and covered her face with her arms, struggling with her thoughts. She debated whether to continue what she had started with Drake or to forget everything. The memory of how good he was in bed made her body ache for more—craving his kiss and touch.
“What am I thinking?” she murmured to herself. Resolving to stay focused, she quickly got up before she could succumb to temptation.
“That's enough, Clifford. You’re already drunk!” Drake said, taking the Jonnie Walker Red Label whiskey bottle from Clifford’s hand and setting it aside. Clifford looked disheveled, surrounded by empty bottles beneath the table.
“She broke up with me,” Clifford murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “She didn’t even give me another chance. Just one mistake, and I lost everything.”
“If you love her that much, why did you cheat on her?” Drake asked, already aware of the situation from his family’s call about the canceled wedding.
“It was nothing,” Clifford said, shaking his head. “Shelly knew I loved Naime. It meant nothing.”
“Naime?” Drake asked, his brow furrowing.
Clifford nodded slowly; his eyes closed. “Naime... the only woman I want to marry.”
“Then try to win her back,” Drake urged. “Give her some time to think. It might not be over yet.”
Clifford shook his head, his voice thick with despair. “I know her. If she says no, she means it!” Overwhelmed by drunkenness, he slumped over his office table.
Drake sighed and began clearing away the empty bottles scattered beneath the table. Curious about whether the Naime he knew was the same as his friend’s ex-fiancée, he picked up Clifford’s cellphone and used the fingerprint sensor to unlock it. His heart raced as he saw the woman on the wallpaper.
It was the same Naime he had been with last night.
As Drake was about to set the cellphone back on the table, he accidentally opened the Photos app. Driven by curiosity, he began scrolling through the images. He came across several candid shots of Naime, all taken secretly by Clifford. The photos captured her in various moments: asleep on the sofa, approaching Clifford’s car, enjoying a meal at a restaurant, and dancing in their living room.
In each picture, Naime appeared genuinely happy and content with Clifford.
Drake was stunned when he stumbled upon a video among the photos. His face flushed as he realized it was a s*x tape of Naime. The footage was recorded without her knowledge, with Clifford having secretly filmed it while they were together. Drake immediately deleted the video, his concern growing that Clifford might use it as blackmail to coerce Naime into returning. He quickly checked to see if there were any more incriminating files.
To his surprise, Drake discovered additional s*x videos featuring different women who were aware of the recording. One of them was Shelly, his childhood friend.
Drake's anger flared. Clifford’s behavior was reprehensible, and it was no wonder Naime had ended things with him.
If he hadn’t been so drunk, Drake might have already confronted Clifford for his despicable behavior. The thought of someone from such a respected family, especially one with a mother who advocates for women’s rights, engaging in such vile acts was infuriating. Clifford’s actions felt like a betrayal of everything decent and honorable.
Drake made sure to delete all the explicit videos from Clifford’s cellphone before leaving the office. Even though he knew it wasn’t his business, he felt compelled to act, especially since Shelly was also one of his close friends.
As he left, he hoped to encounter Naime later. While he didn't feel a special connection with her, he felt a deep sense of sympathy. He understood now why she had acted the way she did on the dance floor and why she seemed so vulnerable. Did she know that their lives were interconnected in such an unfortunate way?
“Hi, Drake! Where are you headed?” Zhinkee’s voice was cheerful as she approached him in the parking lot.
“Zhinkee? Oh, hi!” Drake smiled; a bit surprised to see her.
She leaned in to give him a friendly kiss on the cheek.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Not much, just visiting Clifford. What about you? What brings you here?”
“Just had some business meetings in this building. Do you know Clifford well?”
“Not really, just passing by for a brief visit,” she said, her tone light.
“Got it. I was just heading out to my car. If you’re free, would you like to join me for a coffee or something?”
“I’d love to, but I have a few things to wrap up. Sorry!”
“No problem at all. I understand. See you on Saturday, then!”
“Definitely. Bye!” She gave him another quick kiss on the cheek before turning away.
Drake watched her go, feeling a mix of curiosity and resolve.
Drake was taken aback by Zhinkee’s striking appearance. Despite her supermodel-worthy figure, he was surprised she wasn’t pursuing a career in modeling. Instead, she had completed her degree in Electrical and Computer Engineering at Bucknell University in New York. She had moved there at nineteen to study and had been independent ever since. They had shared these details during their lunch with their parents, and it was clear they were still getting to know each other.
As he drove back to his apartment, Drake called Melanie, his nanny, to drop off some groceries. Although she didn’t live with him, she always made sure the items reached his door. He valued having his own space, a quiet retreat from the chaos of daily life.
When he arrived, the familiar scent of home welcomed him. On the sofa sat the grocery bag Melanie had left behind. His eyes then caught the sight of clothes scattered across the floor, leading him toward his bedroom. There, on the bed, lay Naime, completely at ease, radiating natural beauty.
- Writer
