COMPLICATED 2

Not all love stories have a fateful ending, and not all people are destined to marry those they love, or, as people call them, their soul mates. Kelvin had not spoken to me for almost a week. My DMs were dry, and everything seemed to go out of hand in respect to my love life. Leniey was outrageously busy for events that kept coming day by day, for runways, shows, advertisements, and everything else. He had texted me that he had a tight schedule and barely got time to sneak his head into social media. I had requested a month's leave from our radio sessions because I wanted to go home and visit my family. I wanted them to at least taste the beauties and goodies in the United Kingdom. I wanted to talk to Kelvin as much as possible, even if it meant preserving the fewest seconds. My texts were ignored, and my calls were left unanswered or return. We had not yet broken up, but he acted as if I had cheated on her; it was just a slip of my tongue. Therefore, I had decided to focus on my work and radio station as much as possible. Our discussions and names were praised all over England when Eva gave me the idea of us starting a podcast on TikTok and YouTube, with which our fans could easily interact with us during our free times. Of course that was a brilliant idea, but the first thing I had in mind was the style in which I would speak to Kelvin. After my radio station, I headed over to his house. His house was usually sometimes tidy, other times dirty, other times disorganized; it just depended on the mood. On my arrival at his door, I slightly knocked, and after a lengthy silence, a blonde, short girl opened the door. She was wearing Kelvin's t-shirt, and her hair was a little messy. I knew what was happening. For the first time, I felt an ache from my heart, a sense of betrayal. "Who is it?" Kelvin's voice was heard, nearing the door. My eyes, I knew, would not hide the look of disappointment; I felt like a fool, and I so much wanted to leave when Kelvin appeared. His sight of me shocked him; he just wore lame blue shorts and shirtless of course. My eyes, for the first time, were filled with tears, and how much I wished the tears could not dare leave my eyes. My eyebrows did a flip-flop, trying hard to get rid of the tears. All the pain was flooding; it was not that I loved Kelvin that much, but I cared; a part of me loved him, in as much as I state that it was not much. Of course, everyone is saddened when they are betrayed. I wanted to speak, but no words escaped my throat. I saw neighbors watching us, and I knew it was time I left, but I had to say my goodbyes. "Am sorry, I eehh… I did not want... eh, I just wanted to. Nothing sh*t, excuse me." I tried looking for words, but none came out. I just left and went straight to my house with memories of Kelvin flooding my brain. The point was not even love; it was the betrayal. A blonde? What did I lack that he went for another? He should have at least told me. My mind was racing; I was, of course, so used to heartache that sometimes tears never took sage to leave from my eyes, but no one had ever betrayed me. Seeing him with another woman felt strange. A feeling I never felt—a feeling of demeanor and trash. He had dumbed me in a manner no gentleman would ever do, and she wore his clothes in the evening of all times, meaning she had stayed there longer than usual. My mind contested, I thought, but I could not find the right words. And with that, I thought of calling Leniey, so I beeped his number and dialed it as fast as I could. I hoped he wasn't busy. "hello." He stated. Hearing Leniey's voice set my whole body on fire on this day. I felt his breath, his everything, and for the first time, I said nothing but cried uncontrollably. He was my home, and I was hurt. "Hey, hey, why are you crying? I've been at a heck of a photo shoot, I've trained, and my leg hurts like crazy." He sure knew how to change topics, and this time he focused on himself. In the past, I hated when he changed topics, but today I enjoyed it. I loved the way his voice just soothed me; that's what I needed. "What do you want? You know I can't fly to wherever you are, or should I do some telepathy or telecommunication?" I just laughed at his corny jokes. I just wanted him to be there, not to speak, not to do anything, but to just be there. I just wanted him there when he stated, "Or you can come here. The bed is cozy, and I can take you to one of my shows." My head screamed that was a nice idea, but one thing I never knew was if my body would ever stop the feelings Leniey's presence had all over me. "I will leave for home, Leniey, unless I come to say goodbye." He was quiet to this; I knew he hated it and was in some way used to it when I heard him state at the other end, ", I, I thought you wouldn't leave as fast." "My family might forget my looks, Leniey." Ooh were just the words he altered, and I felt a sense of disappointment in his voice when he quietly stated, "Can I see you before you leave? Or I can book the ticket here in London so that you set for the first plane?" I just altered a yes, and then silence overtook us, lines on, but none spoke; we both knew what we needed near each other, some silence, and our hearts spoke, like we had never been apart.

The next morning was quite normal; my phone had switched off from the late-night call presumably because I fell asleep without hanging up, and so I put my phone on charger, lazily woke up, and went to prepare some breakfast when a knock came on my door, today, I did not expect any visitors. However, I opened the door, and Kelvin was right there in front of me, with him, he held some flowers, and this actually made me chuckle. "Come in." I stated. He did not say a word but just came in steadily and sat on one of the chairs. Despite, I couldn't stop the funny feelings that refreshed on my brain, after his appearance. 'He fucked another girl' were the words my mind stated vigorously. "I am sorry; I, she, it was not what you think." Kelvin stated, and for the first time, I viewed Kelvin as an idiot. I just replied, "Do you think flowers can solve everything?" "Of course not." "I just want your forgiveness; it was just a change of event." He stated. I was never an idiot when it came to love stories; well, who is? I was of course disappointed in him; I felt demeaned and disrespected. I had nothing to say, but somehow seeing him here made me feel even worse. It was my urge not to see him here, but of course my girly nature and wish for attention wanted him to acknowledge and apologize for his actions, I then calmly stted despite my lack of words "I am leaving." "I've already booked a flight; I wanted to say goodbye" with that, I saw a sense of disappointment plastered on his face. "I did not know," he stated. How could you know? You were busy any way." I replied, which made him scratch the back of his head, as if looking for words to say. "I will drive you to the airport." He stated. I watched him for a while and then just stated, "I will leave first for London." Hearing those words, his facial expression changed and then he inquired, "Why London?" Why was he getting angry when he was the one caught cheating? Was the question that lingered over my mind when I stated, "Am going to see a friend?" I knew I was also hurting him with my words, but what would you do if you. Okay, if you found the person you are dating with some random female, shirtless, in his apartment, and you know what makes it worse—that you brought yourself there— Honestly, when I saw them, I felt desperate. Never again. "A friend? Oooh. I don't recall you having a friend here. Or it's that Leniey guy?" His voice was deep and commanding, but still. Whenever he talked like this, I understood. I understood that he was burning inside with feelings of hate, disapproval, and possessiveness. I never understood men; why did they always play victims? Why did they always act as if we women should accept their cheats, but for them we should never play them? Isn't loyalty supposed to be two-way? "You heard me right, Kelvin; your other assumptions are for you alone, and I don't know the Leniey guy you are talking about. Furthermore, it was you who I caught red-handed cheating?" He did not say anything after that statement. He looked at me, and I could see the disappointment in his face, but my ego never approves of any betrayal of any kind. I heard him state, "I was drunk. Angel, I would never do such a thing; I was drunk. My mind was messed up." I just sarcastically laughed without saying anything. It felt like he was copying my acts when I called him Leniey. I watched him, and this time I felt like just leaving him alone or not talking to him. I was sometimes toxic to him, but this time I felt he had done me dirty. I wanted to relate my story with his, but the truth was, I never banged with Leniey like he did with that random girl. "If you wanted revenge, you should have come and trash talked me on my face, but Kelv, I felt like an idiot. I texted you, I called you, and you know why I don't buy any of these apologies? It's because it was in the evening. Did you drink till morning? Of course not. If it were at night, I would be happy and say maybe it was the beer; let's blame it then; but it's daytime. That's crazy." While I was speaking, he was just looking at me, as if absorbing everything. His eyes were watery, and his superficial temporal vein could be observed darting on the side of his head. He was trying hard to keep his composure. His hands were fidgeting, and then he stated, "sh*t. I, I'm sorry, I..." and with that, he stood up and left, leaving his flowers on the chair in which he sat. Why did he storm out like that? For the first time, I was confused by his actions. He was not the type to back out of a conversation, despite how bad it was. He always wanted to clear the air every time, and in case of any type of disapproval he preferred to express it right there and then. But this side of him I had never seen. He was always bold, and fidgeting or nervousness was never his thing. Or maybe he was disappointed or afraid—I don't know—but that cannot stop me from calling him a cheater.

After my conversation with Kelvin, I started packing the things I needed for my trip to London and back home. Of course I knew I was to come back, since the radio stations had already hired us with a handsome amount of money for a contract of two years, and others for one year, so I knew we were setting some career goals, and I would love to say I was certainly proud of myself. I had bought what I needed—presents for my parents, clothes for my sister, and other things that we would need, like snacks and whatever. I wanted to meet with my friends, maybe some of my classmates, with whom we had a little bond, and lastly, my head could not stop thinking of Leniey, who waited for me in London and had actually used his own money to buy me a ticket. My flight was two days after today, so I was just going to London to chill with someone before the flight. I wanted to clear my head, of course. After the checks and packs, I found Leniey's text, a picture of my ticket, and how much he waited for me. I hadn't told Kelvin about the time of my departure. I knew it would hurt him if I told him. I was set to leave tomorrow morning at six, but this didn't matter as much as who waited for me there. I of course had a soft spot for Kelvin, but after his betrayal, I felt some sense of ache, hatred, and hurt. However, I still felt pain not telling him my goodbyes, so I just texted him, 'Hey, I'm leaving for the first bus tomorrow. Just wanted you to know.' As fast as I texted him that, I saw the blue ticks, and he replied as fast, 'I will take you. There's no need for the bus.' Kelvin was always different, or maybe it was his leadership skills and contemplations, he was used to saying things like, "I'll deal with that; how much is it? "I can buy it. Just a mansion? Is that all you need?' He always wanted to be the bigger person in front of anyone; even I noticed it when he talked with his friends. For instance, one time he had lost two thousand pounds over a bet for Manchester United; he just stated, Two thousand? Cheap.' While his friends were wailing on how they should have bought drinks or partied with the cash, And so I replied, 'it's okay, I can use a bus there is no point of wasting your time.' He straightaway replied on delivery, 'That's the last good thing I can do after my betrayal. Let me do this. I will leave exactly after I see you are safe; don't wish to even meet your friend. I will set up a hotel for you to stay at as you wait for the flight's departure.' This part is where I always loved having him on my side. His masculinity and deeds—that's what kept me alive in this relationship. This is the type of love I needed. And I then replied, 'Okay." If you insist.' And with that, he just marked it as read and left me hanging, waiting for his reply. He always did that; his conversations were always formal, and when the talk was over, he would leave you on read. I was used to it anyway, but not to him cheating on me. Thinking of him cuddling up to another woman gave me nostalgic feels; I hated it, and he so much blamed it on alcohol. Who does that? Before retiring, after my supper, I watched some TikTok and YouTube videos and then slept, not forgetting to set my alarm clock, for I was never good at early morning wakes.

Knock. Knock. My door, oh God. I woke up as fast as I could and opened the door. Kelvin it was. He was quite early, as if he hadn't slept at all. He was just waiting for today. His hands carried the car keys, and he wore the clothes, which many girls admired and, of course, I so much loved. He had a long, baggy Dior-printed shirt, some black jeans with which he always sagged, and a snow-white Air Force. He wore black dot earrings and had quite shaved his hair into a bob, but hadn't combed it. Wearing this never made him look like the secretary general; he looked like a super light-skinned African American model. With him observing my acts, I felt nervous for the first time in so long, and I so welcomed him. I hadn't bathed nor prepared myself, and so I stated, "You are so early." He just looked at me with a smirk all over his face, which even made me forget Leniey a lot of times. He sat down and lazily switched on the screen, which was showing some movie that I had not yet finished watching. My schedule never lets me have time for Netflix; maybe this is what adulation condones. It was at five a.m., and I needed to shower. I so showered as fast as I could, and I could hear Kelvin preparing some eggs in the kitchen, and bacon could be smelled. He always lived with me in this house, and we lived like cute husbands and wives. He always treated me to foods, for he sure was a good cook; he always stated, Thanks to my mom." He had told me that his mom was a chef, and they were used to selling McDonald's, bread, donuts, and other specialties in their café, which, I assume, people loved, because honestly, his food was always tasty. After my shower, I wore nice clothes; of course I needed to be elegant today. Kelvin looked good in casual clothes, and above all, I was to meet Leniey, with whom I wanted to spend as much time as possible. I so wore a short-sleeved black short dress, for it was summer and the scientists had stated the day would be hot throughout. I put on some heels and then headed to where Kelvin was. One thing I loved about him was how much he stared when my looks seemed to flourish. The tight black short dress always shoved my curves and my rounded ass, which I found every man staring at. On arriving near him, he just stated, "Breakfast?" His eyes did not speak of breakfast, azzin breakfast; they had other ideas as he scanned me when stating the words. Not like Leniey, whose eyes mostly lingered on my bust, his eyes always loved looking at my curves, and of course, his favorite style was looking at them cakes behind. Confidently, he squeezed open one of the chairs for me to sit on and then sat next to me when he started, "Your friend. Your friend, is she/he …" He did not continue with what he wanted to say; maybe he was afraid that I would decline his offer to drive me, or he feared to be hurt. We, however, ate in silence, and after, he helped me take my things onto his car, and then I locked my door, and then we entered the car and left for the journey. The journey was quiet, but I could see him watching me from the corner of his eyes. Whenever we traveled together, his hands were always placed on one of my thighs, playing up and down the thigh while his eyes were steady on the road. But today, it was different; of course, he knew his actions and was being respectful of what he had done. No one spoke on the journey; my mind was not thinking at all; I was just enjoying the beautiful views of the road.

After the journey, almost two hours' drive, we arrived. It was still quite early; we had left Birmingham at around seven, so it was like nine or ten. Kelvin had somehow found a hotel for me, and my luggage was removed by some guards. He talked to the cashier, and my room was 112 on the left for the VIP, as I had heard. Kelvin was one person who left me scared. He somehow, all the time, acted as husband material, even when we were fighting. I was mad at him, of course and I observed him as he was now walking towards me; he had opened some of his buttons, exposing the central part of his chest, on arrival near me, he started, "I have paid everything, for as long as you wish to stay. Please call me." He wanted to leave when some remorse came upon me, and I requested that he accompany me to see the room. We arrived at the room, which was well furnished in white, and the windows showed the serene buildings of London perfectly well. Kelvin then stated, "I, my actions were despicable. This is the only way I can at least apologize to you. Am sorry." After that, he gave me a tight hug, not wishing to stop holding me, when I felt his hand slightly narrowing towards my buttocks, and I stopped him exactly at that point. Despite him being all cute and nice, I was still mad at him for his acts; maybe I was being too hard on him, but I never cared. He left the room, and through my window, I observed him leave the hotel with his car. Checking my phone, even without having a rest, a notification popped up, "Where are you?" It was Leniey's text. 'At a hotel,' I replied quickly. And with that, he decided to call me. And beep, I answered. "Hey, which hotel?" His voice stated, and here I knew the officials in this hotel would know of the biggest player in the world. "The resident something," Oooh was just what he stated, and then said, "Am coming." And with that, he beeped off the line. Honestly, Leniey and Kelvin were not that different. Leniey was however shy and anxious, but as time went by, he changed; he now can be seen talking to fans on social media and easily showing off some of his modeling skills. Lately, he had been called out by Vogue as one of the best under-twenty-five African models of the year. I don't know if they had contacted him, but he has been used to advertise some of their products. Balenciaga is also trying to fit everything into his schedule, as he told me, so his time is quite occupied. Additionally, he has become quite famous here in London, and now his agency has even appointed some bouncers and bodyguards to protect him from any assaults. He was doing well, I can say. For Kelvin, it is just as I said, his leadership skills are showcasing themselves; I heard he was chosen to be the head of all universities in the country that belonged to a certain organization; I don't know if it was a university or something like that, and of course, for me, my radio talks were doing well. Suddenly, my phone beeped, and I knew it was Leniey, so I answered, "Hello, where are you at?" He stated. I so decided to look out of the window to look for him, but all that was seen were cars, fancy cars, I would state. I so decided to speak, "I don't see you." He then stated in a deep, firm voice, "I want to briefly see you. Please tell me your room number." And with that, I told him the room. Hanging up, I heard him state, 'I have to see someone'. While checking myself in the mirror thousands of times, a knock was heard, and I steadily opened the door as I straightened my dress. It was Leniey, but he was quite different today. He did not wear his normal casual wears, but some old-school checked brown and white suspender trousers and a tight t-shirt tucked inside the khakis. He looked quite different today. Some weeks ago, he was normal; today, he was abnormal, he hated old school wears, okay, but he still looked cute; his face, his hair, everything was perfect when he cleared his throat and stated, "I have a shoot at twelve. I don't know how long it will take, but I promise I will come to see you when it is over." He had not even invited himself in; he spoke while at the door, and so he continued, "I can't come in right now. I am really needed." I did not have anything to say. I wanted the day to be for both of us and for tomorrow too, for my plane was set for the day after tomorrow, but it seemed I was to be alone. Crazy. I guess he saw the disappointment in my face when he let himself in, steadily closed the door, and tightly hugged me—that hug that would leave anyone yearning. I felt his hand linger at the back of my thigh, hugging him had made my dress rise a bit, and I knew, I knew when it came to Leniey, I was weak; it felt like he knew, always did; we both craved each other as much, and I felt his hand linger at my inner thigh; I would hate if another did this to me, but when it came to this guy, my body always reacted, and he suddenly stopped himself as fast as his left hand started slowly raising my dress. His eyes watched me, full of hunger and maybe yearning, as I would say. I feared he would destroy his outfit with our moment; he had a job to do, and having a bulge now would do him no good. I saw him try to calm himself down, not daring to look at me when he steadily said, in a very low tone, "I don't know, but when it comes to you, I surprise myself." And with that, he just left.