Chapter Forty-three

Writer. 

"Boredom, boredom, boredom." The words pounded in her mind, relentless and unyielding.

She was weary of her solitary existence, of sleeping alone in the same bed night after night.

While she had once been used to solitude, sharing a bed with someone had made her crave that presence.

Now, instead of waking to the comforting heartbeat of her partner, she found only a picture frame on the drawer beside the king-size bed.

It had been over three weeks—one week plus the previous two—without a single word from him. No calls, no texts.

What was going on?

Was he so consumed by work that he had forgotten her, working himself to the bone?

But why did she suddenly care so much about whether he remembered her?

If she was determined to apologize and clear her conscience, why did she still feel this nagging guilt?

It wasn't entirely her fault.

Aside from the staff, he was the only person she knew on this remote estate island.

She had been trying to push him away deliberately, hoping he would tire of her and end things, but her plans seemed to be falling apart.

Her mind had one objective, but her heart was following a different path.

She couldn't afford to let feelings or concerns disrupt her plans; she needed to stay on course.

Why was it so difficult for her heart to align with her mind?

She didn't have feelings for him, yet her heart seemed to want to speak the truth.

Each day, she left for work early and sometimes returned home late, only to be met with a room full of emptiness. She would sleep and wake up to the morning sun, feeling unhappy.

Whether their marriage was contractual or not, wasn't it supposed to have some semblance of reality, of being genuine?

There was no romance between them. She found herself staring at a picture of him in a  white two-piece LV outfit, arms crossed and smiling next to a black Bugatti La Voiture Noire.

It felt like cruel romantic torture.

Even now, looking at his handsome face, she couldn't help but be captivated.

He seemed like a masterpiece crafted by a great artist—God had truly outdone Himself.

She set the picture frame down and rubbed her face, trying to clear her thoughts.

What did she really want?

One moment she despised him, and the next, she was inexplicably drawn to him. It was confusing and unsettling.

Her emotions were a tangled mess, swinging wildly from one extreme to the other.

She was on the verge of something, yet she preferred to keep her distance, as if her indecision was leading her nowhere.

She had managed to get his number from Max's phone yesterday but hadn't called him. It felt like a matter of pride, or something else entirely.

Pushing the sheets aside, she got out of bed and reached for her new cell phone on the drawer.

For now, she was using a basic cell phone, with plans to get a smartphone by the end of the month. The lack of internet and chat options only heightened her boredom, causing her to sleep more.

She held the phone, feeling the urge to dial his number but never quite following through.

Since it was her day off, she had no plans—no appointments, no engagements. She wanted to visit her family but was stuck talking to them only over the phone. She missed home deeply.

Why was he keeping her confined in his mansion like a prisoner? The only place she was allowed to go was work. If he intended to keep her here, he should at least give a valid reason. Did he even care about her? What did he mean by letting her go when he was "fed up"? He hadn't provided any timeline for her release.

This situation felt unjust.

She showered, ate, took a walk around the estate, and then napped again. Later in the afternoon, she watched a movie on Netflix and fell asleep a fourth time. By evening, she awoke to the setting sun streaming through the window.

A wide yawn escaped her, which she covered with the back of her hand. She felt drained from so much sleep. While doctors say eight hours is ideal for health, too much sleep can foster a sense of laziness.

She rummaged through the bed and found her cellphone hidden under the sheets.

Rubbing her eyes, she carefully searched the contact list.

"B*tch, you can f*ck with me if you're wanting to." The familiar voice on the other side greeted. 

Bummi laughed softly. "Lola, is that how Cardi B sings 'Bodak Yellow'? Anyway, are you free to come with me to a bar tonight?"

Lola gasped, covering her mouth. Bummi could almost picture her shocked expression. "Oh my God, what is a married woman doing at a bar?"

Bummi rolled her eyes. "Lola, remember to add 'contract bride' to the description. This marriage isn't exactly legitimate."

"Uh huh, whatever."

Maybe Lola didn't get it. "I'm not talking about a club, just a bar. I don't want to go alone—it's so boring here."

"Hmm. And what are you planning to do there? Whether it's a bar or a club, it's not exactly a responsible choice, B." 

"I know, Lola. I just want to get out and have a little fun. You can invite Ojo too."

Lola was silent for a moment, and Bummi could almost hear her thinking. Finally, Lola spoke, as if she was settling on a thought. "Is he withholding sex from you, or are you just looking to unwind? Which is it? You can choose."

Bummi's eyes widened, and she quickly replied, "Ugh, no way. Look, I'm just stressed and need a break. Don't you want to help a friend in need?"

"Not when that friend has been hiding things from me lately."

Bummi felt exasperated. "I'm going through a rough time and just need to clear my head. Let's meet at the bar near the estate—hashtag I'm broke, so it's on you." She hung up before Lola could say anything more.

******** 

Moments later...…., 

"B*tch, you're looking like f*ck." Lola shouted because of the deafening music in the background. 

Bummi wondered if Lola was right about her appearance.

She glanced down at her outfit—a brown hoodie that used to belong to Damian. Since he was ghosting her and wasn't around, she figured she might as well borrow it. The hoodie was oversized, reaching her knees, but maybe it looked good on her. She paired it with white sneakers and black skinny leggings that showcased her curves.

"You know, Lola, if you're talking about the new cellphone I just got, I'd agree with your 'horrible' comment, but not about my look," she said with a hint of pride.

Ojo almost choked on his drink when Lola responded, "Seriously, Bummi? The unhappiness is practically written across your forehead."

Bummi cursed under her breath, knowing Lola was right.

Just the other day, Sofia had asked if everything was okay, and now her best friend was picking up on the same distress. Bummi wasn't ready to discuss her marital issues or share them with her friends; she preferred to keep her private life private.

She took a quiet sip from her drink.

As they sat on barstools, it was easy for her to focus on the stage. "So, tell me about the Gala." She said. 

Ojo, who had been absorbed in a WhatsApp conversation with his boyfriend, finally chimed in. "And you'd better explain what's behind that unhappiness first, or we won't buy your sudden interest in a Gala story."

Bummi rolled her eyes, who cares anyway? "F*ck the Gala story then." She sip her drink again. "Don't want to hear it." 

"No, no, not so fast, B*tch. Not when I already sent you full details in your email and you've read them." Lola argues, softly. 

"I didn't read a single word you sent, Lola." Bummi sighed. 

"Duh uh. Tell that to my ass." 

"Come on, we're waiting. Spill the beans."

What beans?

Her friends wouldn't stop until she revealed something.

Fine, if they were going to push her, she'd give in.

She had no choice; their persistence was relentless.

The bartender set down three vodka shots in front of them after Ojo ordered.

To clear her head, Bummi downed her shot in one gulp.

"Wow, that's a start," Ojo said, astonished as Bummi downed her shot in a flash. He quickly followed her lead, and Lola did the same, ordering more. The vodka had a barley wine taste with a creamy note but left a strong alcohol aftertaste.

Within five minutes, Bummi and her friends were tipsy. They started rambling incoherently, their speech slurred. Bummi's eyes were heavy and drooping; she couldn't remember the last time she'd had alcohol. She was notoriously bad with it, and even one shot was enough to make her act foolish.

"That man is stupid." Bummi tap her friends shoulders and they smiled at her stupidly. She bursted into a crazy laugh. "Damian is a mad man. Say amen." 

Lola and Ojo complied intensively. "Amen." 

"Do you know why I called him a madman?" When Lola and Ojo shook their heads, she added, smiling like an award winner. "He's been ghosting me off for—" She poke three fingers out but she thinks it's six because she's not seeing clearly. "Six—three weeks?" 

Lola wrapped an arm around Bummi's shoulders, trying to keep her in focus. "What did you do to him?"

Bummi frowned and pouted. "You want to know? I spilled a drink on him, called him names, and even insulted his mother."

Ojo laughed heartily. "You're a genius, B. Bravo."

"Why don't you want to have s*x with him yet?" Lola ask drunkily. 

Bummi shrugged. "Because I don't want to. Moreover, this is a contract marriage thing. What if I end up selling my body to him and he dumps me after?"

Lola pouted, clearly disappointed.

"You want to know something else he did?" When they nodded, she laughed sarcastically. "He bought me an orange Lamborghini Revuelto as an apology gift after I sent him something."

Ojo and Lola stared in shock. "That can't be true."

"It's absolutely true, chickens. He even gave me one of his unlimited credit cards." She paused and pouted. "But I returned everything with Max. I told him I didn't want any of it."

"But… why?" Lola asked, confused.

"Can't you see? He's trying to insult my background by showing off his wealth," Bummi snapped.

Yes, he had bought her the Lamborghini and given her his credit card. Recall how Nathaniel had been waiting in the garden to deliver Maxwell's message and instructions.

She was just a simple girl from an ordinary background. Such luxuries were overwhelming, like a mini heart attack.

"I only sent him a small white teacup Pomeranian puppy and a basketball. I never expected him to give me a heart attack," she said, staring at her fidgeting hands. "Is it possible to suddenly like someone just because my heart says so?"

When she realized her friends were ignoring her, lost in the loud music, she looked up. Lola was drunkenly kissing a random guy.

"Okay, I don't want to intrude," she mumbled as she turned away. She then saw Ojo kissing someone familiar. "Jimmy?" she whispered, almost to herself.

The guy with Lola wrapped his arms around her and carried her away, leaving Bummi alone with Ojo, who was still lost in his romantic haze. "I'll just… use the bathroom," Bummi said, but Ojo didn't respond as he was being led away by his boyfriend. "Okay," she encouraged herself before grabbing her phone and heading out.

She nearly lost her balance as she stepped down from the barstool but quickly steadied herself. Her vision was too blurry to focus clearly. She began counting her steps, walking carefully as if on a tightrope, with her arms outstretched for balance. "Ojo, look at me. I almost fell and cracked my head, but now I'm flying through the air. Am I not awesome?" she grinned as she made her way toward the bathroom.

Inside the bathroom, she splashed water on her face and gazed at her reflection in the mirror, admiring her beauty with a smile. "Indeed, you're one pretty damsel, Bummi."

"Of course, you are," a voice from the entrance responded. Bummi turned her head toward the voice, squinting through her blurry vision to see a man standing there.

Leaning against the sink to steady herself, she could barely recognize him but felt she'd heard the voice before. The man closed the bathroom door and began unfastening his belt as he approached her.

Bummi's anxiety surged as she backed away, her vision still unsteady. The situation triggered memories from seventeen years ago, making her heart race.

"Don't touch me!" she shouted, slapping his hand away and pushing him back.

His expression turned cold, clearly taken aback by the slap. Annoyed, he pulled her closer, trailing kisses down her neck. "Hey, let's take things slow if you cooperate, sweetheart," he murmured, his warm breath brushing her skin.

She tried to resist him, giving him so many punches on his shoulders but he didn't feel anything at all. She's a woman and he's a man. How could her strength overcome him? 

She thought of self-defence and bit his neck. He winced, pulling off immediately. But he didn't give up there. He got angry even more. When she saw the deadly look in his eyes, she almost fear to death, wishing for the ground to open and swallow her up as she retreat to the walls. 

As his anger boiled further, he grabbed her arm in one move, place her on the countertop and started ruffling with her dress. She struggled, wiggled her legs and hit him so many times, still he didn't retreat. 

"Stop! Let me go, please. I beg of you!" 

Just when he was about to reach for her zipper, someone barged in, almost breaking the door. "Don't you dare touch what is rightfully mine!" The voice like thunder in a stormy weather. And the next thing that followed was a hard punch on the man's jaw. 

Instantly, the man lost his balance and fell helplessly on the ground with a loud thud. It's like the punch from the other man broke his nose and teeth. He spat out blood followed by a tooth. His nostrils bleed relentlessly. He tried to beg for his life in the hand of the saviour but it was too late. 

Taking advantage of the situation, the rescuer pounced on the man on the floor and out of anger, he gave him several punches on the face until his face was covered in blood and he became unconscious to move. 

Bummi still holding onto herself tightly with the state of shock, can't even process what's happening. Although, something tells her that the rescuer is familiar. 

"Don't you ever dare touch my woman again, Christopher. You hear me?!" He roared like a lion. "If you ever try it again, I swear to God, I'll kill you and bury you alive." 

Seeing the man on the floor growing weak from his injuries, the rescuer stepped away and stood up.

He turned his attention to the woman on the countertop, his eyes filled with concern. He quickly moved to her, gently cupping her face in his hands. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice steady and reassuring.

She nodded, though her blurred vision made it hard to recognize him. When he leaned in and kissed her, she didn't resist; instead, she responded instinctively, despite not knowing who he was.

He pulled back when he noticed her breath faltering. "Let's get you home," he said softly, helping her off the countertop. Her legs, however, were too weak to support her, and her vision was darkening. As her head throbbed and she slipped into unconsciousness, he swiftly gathered her in his arms. "Pearl?" he said her name softly, but she was already out cold.