chapter 11
864 Words
Honestly stormed into the house, still breathing hard from the argument he had just had with Lona outside. His mind was boiling, and his hands were shaking. He didn’t even remember knocking when he pushed open his mother’s bedroom door.
Aminata, who had been folding clothes on her bed, looked up sharply.
“Honestly! How many times have I told you to knock before coming in?”
He stopped, caught between anger and guilt.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Mom,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead. “But please—don’t change the topic. You know what she did to me, and you still allowed her in this house.”
Aminata sighed deeply, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I know you’re angry. Anyone would be. But at least hear her out.”
“Hear her out? Mom, she left me broken. And now she just shows up?” His voice cracked with frustration.
Aminata watched him for a moment, her expression softening. “She arrived from the States yesterday. She said she wanted to visit.”
“Visit who?” Honestly scoffed. “Please, Mom. I don’t like her presence here. Before I forget—Vicky and I are now dating.”
Aminata raised a brow.
“You think you can fool me? Honestly, I know you. This is a plain cover.” She leaned closer, her voice calm but firm. “You want me to believe you suddenly moved on that quickly?”
Honestly shook his head.
“No, Mom. I’m telling the truth this time around. Vicky is different.”
Aminata folded her arms.
“Okay then. So where is she now?”
“She’s in her apartment,” Honestly replied.
Aminata smiled slightly, the tension in the room dropping a little.
“Good. I would love to meet her then.”
Honestly managed a small smile.
“Sure, Mom.”
Aminata nodded, then stood and walked toward the door.
“Go cool your head,” she said gently.
Honestly exhaled, rubbing his face with both hands. As he stepped out of her room, he couldn’t stop thinking about how everything had changed so fast — Lona returning out of nowhere, Vicky waiting for him, and his mother caught in between.
One thing was clear:
Seeing Lona had awakened a part of his anger he thought he buried long ago.
But this time, he wasn’t going back.
Vicky had been sitting quietly in her apartment that evening, sipping a drink while scrolling aimlessly through her phone. It had been a long day, and all she wanted was peace.
Then the doorbell rang.
She frowned. She wasn’t expecting anyone.
Setting her drink down, she walked to the door and opened it.
Evans stood there.
He looked tense, almost unsure of himself. His eyes searched her face carefully.
“Is this how you welcome someone now?” he asked with a weak, nervous smile. “Can I… come in?”
Vicky didn’t move from the doorway.
“Evans, I’m busy. Whatever you want to say, say it from there.”
He swallowed and nodded slowly.
“Vicky… I’m sorry. Truly. I know I hurt you. I didn’t understand what I had back then. I’ve changed. I promise. Please, just give me one more chance.”
Vicky sighed softly, not out of anger but exhaustion.
“Evans, I’m not interested in going back. I don’t want a relationship with you again. I’ve moved on. You should do the same.”
Evans took a small step forward.
“Just one chance. That’s all I’m asking. Think about what we shared. The memories—”
“Evans,” she interrupted gently but firmly, “all I remember is the pain, the stress, and the disappointment. I clothed you, fed you, supported you when you had nothing, and in return, you gave me heartbreak. I’m not going through that again.”
He lowered his head, but instead of accepting her words, something sharp flickered in his eyes.
“Oh,” he said slowly. “So it’s because of that other guy, right? That boy you’re seeing. He’s making you feel like you’ve leveled up.”
Vicky’s expression tightened. “Evans, stop. Don’t go there.”
But he wasn’t listening anymore.
“If I can’t have you, then nobody else will,” he muttered. “One day… you’ll hear from me.”
He turned sharply and walked away, footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Vicky closed the door immediately and locked it.
Her hands weren’t trembling—she wasn’t scared—but anger and frustration simmered under her calm expression.
She leaned against the door, exhaling slowly.
“What is wrong with him?” she whispered to herself.
The apartment fell silent again. The drink on the table was still there, untouched. But the peace she’d had before the doorbell rang was gone.
Vicky walked back to the living room, sat down, and stared into nothing for a moment.
She knew this wouldn’t be the last time Evans would try something.
But she also knew one thing for sure:
She wasn’t the same woman he once took for granted.
She was stronger now.
And she wasn’t going back.
- Writer
