THE LAST PROMISE
PART 11
The bedroom was warm and quiet after they made love. Andre slept deeply beside her, his arm heavy across her waist, breathing steady. Moonlight slipped through the curtains, painting stripes on his skin. Mary’s heart pounded like a drum. She couldn’t stop staring at his phone on the nightstand. She had to know his secret.
Slowly, carefully, she lifted Andre’s arm and slid out of bed. Her bare feet touched the soft rug. She didn’t make a sound. Andre didn’t stir.
She picked up his cold, dark phone. Gently, she took his sleeping hand and pressed his thumb against the bottom of the phone. *Beep.* The screen lit up, its bright light hurting her eyes in the dark room.
Her hands shook as she opened his messages. She scrolled fast, past names she didn’t know. Then she saw it. A name that froze her blood:
Kelvin
The last message was sent just days before Kelvin died. Mary tapped the name. Her eyes raced over the words:
> Andre: She’s still very sad. It’s hard.
> Kelvin: Be patient with my Mary. Be kind. Make her smile.
> Andre: Got the first money. The rest when she’s happy?
> Kelvin: Yes. 2.5 million Naira now. Another 2.5 million when my sister Biola sees she’s truly happy. Total 5 million. Make her feel loved.
> Andre: I understand. I’ll make her happy.
> Kelvin: Make it feel REAL. Pretend if you have to. Don’t break her heart more.
> Andre: I know my job. I won’t fail.
> Kelvin: Thank you. You’re holding my most precious thing. Don’t make me regret this.
Mary’s breath stopped. The words burned her eyes:
5 million Naira… make her happy… Pretend if you must… my job…
A small, broken sound escaped her lips. The phone fell from her numb fingers onto the rug.
******. I’m so ******.
Kelvin didn’t send a friend. He hired an actor.
Andre’s sweet words… his gentle touches… the way he cooked her favorite food… even his smile. All of it was fake. Paid for. A show.
The love she’d started to feel? It was poison. Ashes. She’d betrayed Kelvin’s memory by falling for a lie. Shame burned her face, hotter than her tears.
She looked at Andre sleeping peacefully. The face of the man who lied to her every single day. Disgust filled her chest, cold and sharp.
Moving fast and silent, she grabbed her clothes from the floor – her dress, underwear, sandals. She dressed with shaking hands, buttons fumbling. Every second, she feared he’d wake up.
Done, she looked at the dark phone on the rug. Proof. She picked it up, its cold metal hurting her skin. She placed it back exactly where he’d left it. Let him see I know.
She didn’t look back at the bed. She couldn’t.
Slipping out of the bedroom, she moved like a ghost through his fancy apartment – a place that now felt like a trap. The soft carpets, the nice pictures… all felt like part of the lie.
The front door clicked shut behind her. Cool night air hit her face. She leaned against the wall, sobs finally tearing out of her – harsh, ugly cries into her hands.
Pushing away, she stumbled down the stairs into the quiet Lagos street. Streetlights blurred through her tears. She didn’t know where to go. She just ran. Ran from the beautiful lie. Ran from the paid kisses. Ran from the memory of a husband who bought her fake happiness.
Alone. She was completely alone again. The truth hadn’t set her free. It had shattered her world.
TO BE CONTINUED...