[1] : She pushed me

Reflecting on it now, I realize that I feel even more lonely now than I did back then. I poured everything into her—my college sweetheart, Lilato, the girl I adored with every fiber of my being. She burrowed so deeply into my heart that a decade later, I still can’t seem to fill that void. I was treated like a mere toy, but at least I had a purpose . I spent years building myself up, pouring everything into becoming someone who could set her world ablaze with hate and vengeance. And I did. I’m rich. Famous. Girls throw themselves at me. My once soft voice, often mocked as "girly," has transformed into something that now sounds undeniably masculine. Yet, it all feels like a façade. I know that these women don't truly care for me; they admire my wealth more than me as a person. It’s a shame, really. Back in those days, I would have traded all of this superficial success just to be with her. Riiing… riiing… Suddenly, the sound of my phone ringing fills the silence of the room. [Flashback] A younger version of myself ,sits in my old cramped university room, rifling through my wallet for any stray cash. Panic sets in as I discover I have less than K50 left. “argh! .... What now?” My heart races as I collapse back onto my bed, scattering papers and old receipts. I let out a heavy sigh, staring at the ceiling. “I wish I was rich.” The room is enveloped in silence, heavy and oppressive. I grab my phone, checking my messages. --We’re going out today, bro! You should come. Lilato will be there 🤝🤝🤝-- [Flashback ends] “Hello?” I answer the phone, and a familiar voice responds. “Hello, Alex... I mis...” I hang up Instinctively I know to cut this conversation short before she can manipulate me into feeling anything again. The phone rings again and again, but I resist the urge to answer. Knock, knock. A sound echoes through my room. “Come in,” I call out. “Sir, there’s a visitor in the lobby for you,” my assistant informs me. “Why didn’t you just call?” I question, slightly annoyed. “I did, sir, but after the tenth call, I thought you might not be well,” he replies nervously. “So I came to check on you.” A wave of realization washes over me, and I quickly dismiss him. “Take the guest to the balcony. I’ll be there soon.” To think I could have easily been like him, fearing the wrath of the boss. fixing myself up , I rise and walk out of my office. As I pass the work desks, I notice several employees giving me nervous smiles. Am I really that intimidating? What do they think of me? The questions swirl in my mind. Finally, I reach the balcony office door , and my assistant steps aside. “Everything you asked for sir, is prepared. The room is ready, and the woman is seated, waiting for you.” “Woman?” “Yes, sir, the madam is in the room right now, waiting for you.” I was supposed to be meeting Mr Banda about his merger proposal. Did he send a woman in his place? Regardless, I need to go in now. “Hello, my name is Mr...” But my mood shifts instantly. That silhouette—it’s her. The woman I had worked so hard to forget—my high school sweetheart. “You?!” I exclaim, my voice dripping with anger. “What are you doing here? Who let you in?” I instinctively reach for my phone to call security, ready to have her escorted out, but before I can act, she frantically grabs onto my shirt. “Let go of me, you witch!” I shout, but she only tightens her grip, desperation in her eyes. “Wait, wait, Alex! I came here to ask for forgiveness!” I freeze, the words hanging in the air like an uninvited ghost. “I know I wronged you back then,” she continues, her voice trembling. “You have every right to lash out at me. I hurt you when you loved me, and I made you leave.” “It’s all my fault,” she repeats, tears streaming down her face. This is the first time I’ve seen her cry, and despite everything, she still looks beautiful. Does she really mean it? Can I finally find peace from this lingering hurt? My heart begins to race in my chest. “Now that you need me, you want me back, huh?” I retort, pulling my hand from her grip. “No, that’s not true! I loved you then, and I still love you, Alex!” she declares, her eyes searching mine desperately. “It’s always been you!” This woman has no shame, but I refuse to be fooled again. “Well, now you know how I felt,” I say, turning away from her tearful silhouette. But she grabs my shirt again, pulling me back. “Alex!” she cries, and in a moment of lost balance, I tumble and end up falling on top of her. A charged silence envelops us, and for a brief second, the world seems to fade away as I lock eyes with her, the warmth of our shared history swirling around us. “You want me that badly?” I say in a nonchalant tone, breaking whatever chemistry hung in the air. “Fine, you can have me.” In a reckless surge of emotion, I rip her top, exposing her skin, kissing her neck as she muffles her cries. ---Maybe this way, she will hate me.--- I continue, tearing her shirt further to reveal her bare chest. “If this makes you forgive me, then go ahead,” she says, tears now streaming down her face, each droplet a reminder of our shared past. I grab her, kissing her fiercely, eliciting soft moans that echo in my ears. She is undeniably beautiful, and yet the sight of her flustered expression only fuels my desire to push her away. I want her to hate me as much as I hate her. As I trace my fingers from her chest to her panties, I see tears mingling with her moans, and it strikes me that this is a painful dance we’ve performed too many times before. I stop suddenly, lifting myself away from her now vulnerable body. She looks utterly defeated, tears glistening in her eyes. She gets up, her expression a mix of anger and sorrow. "are you happy now " she questions ,as if that meant anything to me . “This isn't what I want,” I say firmly. “And you—don’t get to break me again.” In a moment of frustration and crying, she pushes me I stumble back, hitting the railing and falling over. “Damn it, that witch...” I mutter, realizing that perhaps this confrontation was never meant to end well.