FALLING FOR HIS DADDY

I pressed the call button again for the ...th time and placed the phone to my ear, pacing around the small space in the hospital room.

But all I got was the damn irritating sound of the rings until the phone went dead again-yet again!

How many times had I called?

I had lost count, and the nervousness and the anger were driving me mad.

"Where the heck are you?" I murmured to myself through gritted teeth as I pulled the phone from my ear.

I checked my wristwatch and sprinted out of the room and down the hospital hallway, my white coat flaring behind me as alarms blared in the background. My grip tightened on the medical chart in my hand, the edges biting into my palm while my heart raced with bubbling panic. Streams of assorted feelings surged through me-feelings that I didn't want to entertain.

I was almost running out of breath from all the sprinting when I bumped into a nurse in the hallway. I grabbed her, my feet still refusing to be planted on the shaky ground underneath. "Hey! Sorry, have you seen my boyfriend?"

The nurse's brows furrowed at the thought. She took a second to think before she finally gestured vaguely down the hall. "I think I saw him follow Marylyn into a room down the hall some minutes ago."

"Marylyn?" I asked in confusion.

No. Actually, I was just thinking, and it came out loudly. So loudly that it wrinkled up the nurse's face in confusion.

Marylyn was my best friend of many years. We had gone through a lot together, sticking together through thick and thin. However, actually, we were not on the same level. She was a rich kid, the only one of her social class who sought friendship from a nobody like me. So it would be fair enough to say that she was with me throughout my lows. The only weird thing I knew about her was that she wished to have a man like mine.

A pure, refined wine! A complete package-that is how she always described him, saying that Vincent was every woman's dream man. She praised him even for the smallest things and even defended his wrongs. But that was just her telling me that I had chosen wisely. That I was blessed with a good man. It never triggered anything in me.

Except this very moment, when I heard that my man had followed my best friend into a room. Vincent had come to greet me this morning, after going MIA on me for the entire weekend. Something didn't sit right with me.

"You don't seem okay," the nurse pointed out, studying my furrowed face and the uncontrolled rising and falling of my chest. "Is anything the matter?"

"Umh... No," I responded, shaking the raging wild thoughts playing in my head. "Thank you. Please excuse me," I excused myself and ran off in the direction where the nurse had gestured earlier.

My stomach twisted as I ran down the hall towards the supply closet. My head felt heavy with the wild thoughts that ran through my mind, while my heart thudded inside my chest. Each step felt heavier than the previous one, anxiety fueling my every step.

Upon getting to the door, a faint sound reached my ears from the inside.

But it was not just any sound.

It was a quiet moan that sent a cold chill down my spine.

I dragged my feet near the door, and immediately I placed my ear against it. I froze.

"V...ooh. Ooh, yes, baby. Like that...aah," the sound echoed again, even louder now than before.

I couldn't move and couldn't breathe for minutes I could not count. The ground beneath me seemed to shake dangerously, forcing me to stay still.

V??? That sound...and that voice...something sounded damn familiar. Too familiar, yet too unbelievable. It was impossible.

The moans echoed again and again while I listened behind the closed door, my fingers lingering on the doorknob while I battled with my divided thoughts. I didn't know whether to walk in and confirm what I was thinking or just walk away to save myself the pain.

'But, that can't be... 'I must be paranoid,' I tried convincing myself.

Finally, after a tormenting moment that felt like an eternity, my trembling fingers found the courage and twisted the knob, pushing the door open with all my might.

I threw myself inside, and for a moment, everything stood still, except for the dagger that was slowly piercing through my heart.

First, it was the strong smell of sex. And it floated past my nostrils to the high heavens, as if the entire world needed to know of what was happening inside that room. A suffocating stench that made me nauseous.

And then, then came the deafening combo of thrusts and moans and heavy breathing and the curses of suppressed pleasure.

My eyes snapped open, and I caught sight of them-Marylyn was pressed against the table, moans of pleasure leaving her mouth as my boyfriend, Vincent De'Luka, hungrily trailed wet kisses down her neck, his trousers and boxers hanging halfway as he mercilessly pounded into her.

They were intertwined, his manhood fully buried inside her pot of honey, hungrily thrusting in her as if he was quenching a thirst of an entire century.

Beads of sweat dropped on Vincent's back that faced me, a stinging bittersweet sign of a sweet moment of pleasure that I was about to interrupt.

I staggered back, and my vision blurred for a second as the moans and thrusts became louder. My legs became too heavy to walk me any further. I almost choked on my blocked breath. My entire body shook with the disbelief and the shock of what stared right into my eyes.

My boyfriend and my only friend?

"H..o...w can thi..." My mouth ran dry as soon as I started, and the words came out so faint that it did not interrupt the scene at all.

The medical chart slipped from my hand, clattering on the floor and startling the duo from their nearing climax. They finally sprang apart, moans and curses of disappointment raining from their mouths, guilt and shame spreading across their faces as they faced me.

At least, that was what I, the stupid, naive me, would have imagined.

They should have been ashamed and shocked that I learned of their betrayal, right?

My eyes locked with Vincent's. I now had two streams of tears running down my chubby cheeks.

Tears that didn't move him at all.

He was there, standing so tall and dauntless as if he was silently commanding me not to speak a word about what I had witnessed. At some point, I could swear that I saw the guilt vanish from his face.

Or maybe it was never there...

From behind Vincent came a nervous giggle followed by a mocking murmur, "What a bad-timing bitch!"

I shook my head, not letting that bitch get to me. I took a deep breath in and out, calming the storm that was raging inside of me.

"No!" I whispered, my voice cracking as I wiped the tears from my eyes.

I shot my clear vision toward Vincent again, as if confirming something or, perhaps, demanding explanations, of which Vincent didn't seem to be bothered.

He just stood there. Erect. Dauntless. Emotionless. There was not even a slight tinge of guilt on his face, like I expected. It was like he couldn't even see me. I had suddenly turned invisible to my own man. He couldn't see my pain, nor could he own up to his own betrayal.

"This is not happening. This..." My mouth went dry as Vincent shifted in his posture, pulling his pants up slowly, like he intentionally wanted to let the details of his betrayal sink into my brain. So unapologetically.

My mouth remained agape as my blurry vision watched him get dressed. His composure stung more than the act of betrayal itself.

I mean, how could he be this calm, unbothered, and cold towards me after I caught him cheating on me?

I watched in disbelief as they dressed up lazily as if they were giving me enough time to process everything. But how could I? How was I supposed to believe that I had walked in on my boyfriend knacking my best and only friend?

"Care to explain what you are doing here? And why didn't you knock before coming in?" Vincent asked when he was done, leaking something from his finger.

I stared at the man in confusion. Was he seriously addressing me? With such a raw tone, as if I were nothing?

A pang of rage coursed through me. "Seriously, Vincent?" I flared up, anger and pain taking my tone of voice to a higher notch than I had intended. "I just walked in on you the night before our residency fucking my best friend, and this is all you can say? How could you two do this to me?"

Marylyn snickered in mockery behind Vincent, while Vincent shook his head, a dark smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You and I know that you won't make it past day one, Leylla."

My face dropped, and a sharp dagger pierced through my heart once again.

"You can never be a surgeon, Leylla. This is not a call for nobodies and weaklings like you," Vincent continued, disdain written all over his face. "Take the advice that I have always given you while there is time-quit!"

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. I wept bitterly, and for a long moment, I just let him see how much he had hurt me. How much he was breaking me.

If there was one thing Vincent was so good at during our three years of relationship, it was downgrading me, putting a question mark on everything I believed in, and demeaning me. He never believed in my dreams and capabilities. Never saw my efforts. Never supported me in anything. He always made me feel so small, weak, and not fit for any task.

"You never saw me any better... never believed in me... never even tried sharing my dreams or supporting me even a little." I sobbed bitterly, his words and the silence that followed cutting deeper into my shuttered heart.

I took a long blink, cutting the streams of tears that ran down my chubby cheeks as I swallowed the bitter pill.

I then opened my eyes, full of pain and wrath. "Even if that is how you think of me, Vincent," I neared with a clear vision of him as I continued, "was all this necessary, really? Did you have to stoop as low as fucking this cheap thing just to make me realize that I was not deserving of you?"

"You are not good enough for me," he scoffed, flaring his hands in the air. "You never were."

Wow! "When were you going to tell me, huh? After you have wasted all my time here on earth?"

He smirked, shaking his head, his expression as cold as ice. "At least you found out. I no longer have to worry about telling you."

Again, he didn't seem apologetic. He didn't look like he felt the need to explain himself. It was like I didn't deserve any explanations at all.

I stepped back. The pain was sucking all the energy out of me, but I pretended to be strong. "Why?" I asked.

"What did you expect?" His eyes were filled with disgust and hate as he looked at me up and down. "You won't make it to that dream of yours, and I needed someone who can match my class. Someone who does not only share my dreams but who is able to achieve her dreams alongside me."

Really now? Then why the fuck did you have to lead me on for three fucking years?

"Unfortunately," he continued, his tone devoid of any warmth. "You are not that person. Your dream is so invalid, and you have decided to make a mockery of yourself by turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to the reality."

The reality was that I would become a surgeon. I had gone too far to drop that dream and passion.

He then leaned in, just when tears started streaming down my cheeks again. "You are chasing something you can never reach, Leylla. But I commend your guts to have dared to dream and to come this far! Go become a veterinarian if you must be in this field."

That cut me so deep that it tore my heart into pieces.

"And what right do you have to dream for me?" I sobbed, my pain making my voice almost inaudible.

I dried my tears and pushed the bitter chunk down my throat. "Who the fuck do you think you are, Doctor Vincent De'Lucca, to tell me what I should dream of and what I shouldn't? What gives you that fucking right?" My voice had turned so cold that it made Vincent step back.

"Someone who knows you well, Leylla. I know you can't do this." He sounded so certain.

That is how he always saw me-so incapable of nothing but loving him with his flaws and strengths.

Another silence rang in the room. Vincent averted his gaze to the side, avoiding my eyes for a moment. Marylyn, on the other side, still hid behind Vincent, her eyes rolling childishly from time to time.

I turned my eyes to Vincent again, and I smiled faintly, bitterly. "I never paid any lecturer for any grades in my exams, unlike someone I know. Is that what disqualifies me?" Leylla shot back, and Vincent bowed low with shame.

"That is how the rich roll," he snapped. "I can afford to pay even the senior surgeon to make me pass a surgery. But poor and naive people like you have to work your brains and asses off just to prove yourselves. Unfortunately, there is no guarantee to your success even after all that."

So confident, huh!

"Well, I would rather do something else rather than be decorated with big titles and suits and still have zero knowledge of what the titles stand for. That is how true we poor and naive people are. We don't cheat our way up, but rather, we work it up!"

His eyes then softened as he stared back at me sympathetically. "Listen, Leylla..."

"Enough!" I hissed, raising my hand to stop Vincent, who fell silent under my cold command.

Sympathy? That was not what I needed.

I took a step closer, my gaze cold against his. "My dreams are solely mine, and I know my capabilities. I pity people like you who think that just because you have had it all handed to you on a silver platter, you have better chances than us who strive through the ladder. You and I know that I am more qualified than both of you combined together."

I let that bittersweet truth sink into them before I continued, "I will be a surgeon, not to prove anybody wrong, but because I believe in myself and nobody is worthy to tell me otherwise. Not even you, Doctor Vincent De'Luka, because you don't matter to me at all from this moment on. I wish you had opened my eyes earlier. Adios!!!"

Vincent was about to say something, his hand reaching out to me, but I stormed out, slamming the door shut behind me. I didn't want them to see more of how they had wrecked me.

But the truth is, he had broken me into pieces.

My heart was shattered to a point that I doubted it could ever be mended.

My chest felt so tight as my feet led me away from the humiliation and pain. I kept cursing and sucking back the tears as I walked to where the pain and regrets dragged me. The pain was too much, unbearable, but I kept moving as far away from the betrayal as possible.

Finding myself at the parking lot, I discharged a huge breath I was holding, blinking away tears. The cool air did little, or better yet, nothing, to calm the storms raging within me. Tears streaked my cheeks yet again as I approached a car.

I needed a breather far away from that place. Even just for a few hours, because the truth is, I didn't want to let those cheaters weigh me down. I had already lost my man to a bitch; losing my job and myself over them was not worth it.

I started fumbling with my keys, tears turning my vision a blur.

I tried to unlock the door, but luck seemed to have run away from my side that day because, for some weird reason, the key didn't seem to work. I didn't want Vincent or Marylyn to find me still crying over the mess they had turned me into, yet the key was working against my wish.

"Damn it!" I cursed as I continued struggling to open the door.

Seconds ticked by, and the door had still not opened. My patience wore thin with every trial. Frustration was boiling over. The pain was increasing. The sobs were becoming uncontrollable. The urge to get away from that space, even just for a while, was growing ardent.

"Fuck you!" I pounded on the driver's side window, but it didn't budge.

Frustration boiling over more, I pounded on the driver's side window yet again. When it did not give, I hit it harder again with all my might and anger.

The glass shattered, shards of it scattering across the seat and the ground.

Shit! That damn hurt like hell...

"Ugh!" A loud growl came from the inside, making me step back in panic.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and a man stepped out. The man didn't speak at first, and I took the moment of his silence to inspect the car under my vague vision.

The car was a black Range Rover.

If those cursed cheaters had not messed with my brain, my car was a white Vitz, as far as I could remember.

My eyes widened in shock, and I took another safe step back. "Shit!" I cursed as I realized what had just happened.

I had broken another person's car. It was not my car I was working on all that while, and that explained why the key was not working.

The man stood tall before me, broad-shouldered, and he exuded an air that spoke nothing short of dominance. He was the type that would command even the earth itself, and it would obey. I felt so small in front of him. His sharp features were partially obscured by a streak of blood trickling down his cheek.

His piercing, cold, demeaning eyes locked onto me. "You are raging like a volcano of frustrations. Who do you need me to kill, miss?" His tone was cold yet so calm, so manly and sweet, that it elicited an adrenaline rush down my spine.

I swallowed hard and dry, blinking away the tears to clear my vision. "I am so...sorry, Sir," I stammered, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact. "I thought it was my car. I..." I trailed off as my eyes rested on the deep cut on his forehead.

How come I had not seen that deep cut?

So fresh, badly bleeding. There were a few shards of glass stuck in the wound.

Guilt gnawed at me. "Oh, my God! Sir, you are bleeding!"

I rummaged through my bag, pulling out a first aid kit. My hands trembled as I opened an alcohol pad. "I am going to clean your wound, sir. Please stay still," I stammered, my body still shaking.

But he stopped me before I could touch his face. He caught my wrist, and I tensed. His touch was firm but not rough. Tight but sweet and gentle in a way I could not explain. There was a tinge of gentleness in it that made my breath hitch at the unexpected contact. I swallowed hard as he inspected me.

"Do I really need a doctor?" He spoke finally, a hint of amusement in his cold tone.

I cleared my throat, snatching my hand reluctantly from the man. "You do, sir. The cut needs to be attended to immediately before it attracts some bacteria and gets infected."

He nodded faintly, his gaze still fixed on me, searching my eyes as if in doubt of my capabilities as a doctor.

'Not again! What? Even a stranger would just look at me and judge me? What the fuck is wrong with people and their fucking judgments?' My mind screamed, and anger bubbled in me.

Then the man spoke, uttering something that I did not expect. "Supposing I do believe that I really need a doctor, would I be wrong to trust that I am in good hands?"

That melted my heart. I felt it do a small dance inside amid the pain.

I nodded my head boldly, a ray of hope stroking the walls of my heart. At least he was willing to give me a chance to prove myself. Not like that idiotic cheat of a boyfriend who never gave me a chance to prove myself.

Being a surgeon entailed having so much confidence, and I had it all. I never ever doubted myself. Confidence was the first hope a doctor could give her patients, and I knew that so well.

I nodded again. "I know I look like a mess right now, sir, but I am a qualified doctor. I can handle this."

"Are you sure?" He asked, not really doubting me, but more of pulling my leg. I could see it by how his eyes flickered.

"Yes, sir," I responded, maintaining my professional look and without wasting a second and without any doubts. "I can fix it. It is also my way of being responsible for my misbehavior. You can proceed to have it rechecked if you still have doubts. But I suggest we get down to it ASAP to avoid it getting infected."

"Get down to it then," he said, a small mischievous smile playing at the corner of his lips as he leaned against the car.

I started cleaning the cut, my pulse racing under his intense, sharp gaze, but I was so happy that the stranger trusted me immediately, unlike my ex-moronic fiancé, who would not allow me to touch him.

Vincent was always doubting even the obvious, mere things about me. And at that moment, while I attended to the man, I wondered whether Vincent ever felt an ounce of love at all. Or he was just with me for sex. I wanted to cry thinking of the years I had wasted on him, but I promised myself not to let him torment me anymore. I was done-done with him and done with love.

I focused on the task at hand, cleaning the wound gently. At some point, when my fingers brushed his skin, an electric wave erupted between us, causing a moment of uneasiness.

The way he stiffened, his eyes locking on mine and his hand gripping my waist, every gesture spoke volumes, evoking an unknown inferno between us. I could feel myself sweating under his touch; thanks to my fabrics, he didn't know how he was affecting me.

At that awkward moment, I decided to stop. I was done anyway, and I needed to break free from his seductive touch.

"You..." I cleared my throat, pulling myself away reluctantly until my waist slipped from his hands. "You are good to go now, sir," I said softly, almost swallowing my own words due to tension. I stepped back and put the supplies back in my bag.

He swept his right hand over the now cleaned and bandaged wound and sighed in contentment. He then reached out, taking my hand and scanning it for a while. He lifted his eyes, locking mine yet again, his thumb brushing smoothly at the center of my palm, sending a jolt through me.

That touch...it was not what I needed in my messed-up state. But I craved it.