To Love Against

I walked into my office with my briefcase and with vast strides. All my employees moved forward to greet and welcome me, all eyes looking up at me with awe and admiration. I was used to it, so their attention did not bother me. The women all tried to get my attention one way or the other as I passed by them. Some adjusted their pose. Some bent their bodies to reveal their cleavage, and some secretly rolled their skirts to show their laps.

Others were bold and came up to me with some excuse about their work and then, in the end, would not say anything tangible. They had just wanted to be close to me. I could not blame them, though; I was rich and handsome.

The men, on the other hand, tried to suck up to me for their gains, yet I could tell they hated me and were jealous of my quick success and the fact that so many women at the office had fallen for me.

My P.A., Rogers awaited me when I arrived at my office. He collected my suitcase and then said to me as I entered the office,

"A man had been here even before I arrived this morning. He has since been waiting for you. He said he wanted to see you for an important reason. He was here before but left the waiting lounge to get some things. He promised to be back as soon as possible. Should I send him away, or do you want me to make an appointment for him with you?"

"No, send him in as soon as he returns," I reply, walking into my office and sitting on my chair to begin work. I worked for a while before getting up and walking to the glass windows of the highest building in the city.

I stared out the window of my office, sipping my coffee slowly. I had just completed the last of my work and was free.

I could see the whole city from where I stood. My office was on the skyscraper's top floor and surrounded by glass windows and doors. If I went very close to the window, I could look down and see people hurrying about like ants, rushing to work, riding in old rickety cars, trying to beat the traffic. This sight always made me chuckle. Those people I looked at daily were hopeless, people who worked their whole lives for a small pension. Some just wanted to work and save up for their kids' college, a decent retirement home, or to spend some stupid vacation on an island. 'Silly dreams,' I thought.

I hated how content they were with their lives, jobs, and families. My parents had always yelled into my ears how I must never settle for less. They told me that nothing was better than money in this world. Not even love came close. They told me how they had grown up as poor people and had become rich at all costs.

So when love stood in the way of my success, I knew which one to let go of love. I let go of love and stayed with money.

I had done the right thing, hadn't I? Yet, I did not know why I felt so empty inside. Money could not fill the void I had inside, from losing the love of my life because of the love of it.

Still, I believe choosing the business and my parents' wishes were the best things I ever did.

I continued watching the ordinary people running around the streets from my office.

I sneered.

These people were not even ready to change anything. If asked about their lives, they would say they were content and happy. They enjoyed doing the same thing every day, the routine they had developed after years and years of boredom.

I always wonder why anybody would be content with anything and why some people do not even try for more. I had met some, and what they would say is:

"Chris dear, money and status are not all there is in life; what matters is that you are happy. Haven't you ever wondered what it is like to fall in love?"

Fall in love? I know what it feels like to fall so deep in love you believe you will always be together with that particular person. I also know how much it hurts when that special person leaves you and how your life will never remain the same.

I picked a framed picture of my ex-fiancee, the woman I was still in love with, Melanie. I looked at it and sighed with regret. If only he could turn the wheels of time.

The man who had come to see me entered a few minutes later. We shook hands.

As soon as we withdrew our hands from each other, I felt a strange vibration in his hand. But I did not take it seriously.

The man told me he was there to discuss a business proposal with me.

"Really? I thought you said you needed to see me," I said.

Why didn't the man just let my assistant know, and then they would go through the standard procedure? Does he think he could just come to my office and throw his wishes at my face?

"I don't understand why you didn't go through the usual procedure, Sir. You can't just come here and tell me you have a proposal for me. I'm not that accessible. Whatever you think you might be, you must..."

Whenever I had uncomfortable thoughts, I would visit the bar and drink them away. However, I usually controlled how I drank and how much alcohol I consumed because if I got drunk, what if I unknowingly revealed my identity?

So when I got to the bar that evening, I greeted my favorite bartender, Miles, and asked for only one bottle of beer.

"Big guy! But are you sure you want only one bottle? I know you can't handle alcohol like other men, as you have constantly reminded me, but I still think more than one bottle is not too much for your stature.

I chuckled, poured the beer into my glass cup, and downed it.

"Well, it's not about stature. You know that, right? A person's stature has nothing to do with their alcohol tolerance. I might have a big size, but I might not have the same alcohol stamina as that dude," I said, gesturing to a very short man not far from where I was seated.

The man was a regular customer of the bar, and at that moment, he had finished drinking three bottles of beer but still looked unshaken.

Miles glanced at where I gestured to and, when he saw the man, burst into laughter.

"Chris! If you want to make comparisons, use someone else. Dickson sitting there is a 'Top G' regarding drinking and having a very high alcohol tolerance. I have never seen him get so drunk as not to be able to walk out of the bar like the same person before. He was always calm, no matter how much he drank. To me, he's not human!"

I chuckled.

"I heard he started drinking at eight years old," someone said behind him.

I looked back and saw the lady. Pitch black hair, green eyes, full red lips, a tiny waist, and breasts that looked like they were spilling out of her blouse. It was Lesley, the bar waitress.

She stood, carrying a tray with an empty used glass, which she had probably just taken from a customer. She came to me and smiled.

"Hi, handsome. I didn't know you'd be coming to the bar today."

I returned her smile.

"I didn't know I'd be coming too."

Lesley chuckled, placed the tray on the bar counter, and sat beside me.

"You could have texted me, you know. I could have worn something more appropriate," she said and winked at him.

I chuckled and took another sip of his beer.

I and Lesley had fucked each other a couple of times in the past. I loved how curvy she was and how good she was in bed. Her bed skills were top-notch, especially what she did with her hands....

Lesley slid her slender hand over mine and looked at me. Then she drew close to me and whispered into my ears.

"You can have me today if you want, you know."

I pulled away.

"Nah, I just want to drink today," I replied.

Lesley was about to repeat something when a customer ordered more beer, and she had to leave. She winked at me again before she went off to attend to the customer.

Lesley was beautiful, and I knew she liked me. And not because I made her scream whenever I was inside her, but because she had feelings for me.

I felt sorry for her because she would never mean anything more to him than friends with benefits.

The only woman I ever truly loved had thrown her bag of chips over my face, cursed, and walked out on me.

Even though I deserved so much more.

I also liked her- not in a romantic way. She was different from the other girls I fucked. She was smart and, at least, had a sense of humor than most girls. And even though she had feelings for me, she had never explicitly stated that. She had only made subtle hints that she wanted more than a sexual relationship. But I could not give her that because I could not fall in love with anyone anymore.

I continued drinking in small sips until my bottle had become empty. I drank only enough to make me slightly tipsy. I was swirling his cup of beer in slow, circular motions when I heard a loud crash.

I looked beside him and saw Sir Dickson arguing with some vast, bald guy with numerous tattoos. They were shouting at each other and pushing the glasses off the table.

Before anyone knew it, the bald man had lifted Sir Dickson and smacked him on the table. Sir Dickson yelped in pain while the other drinkers laughed at him. Sir Dickson quickly stood up, his face red with embarrassment, and punched the bald tattooed guy's nose.

The man furiously grabbed him after that, lifted him, and smacked him down on the floor. The customer cheered in unison, most drunk and not in their right minds.

Miles and Lesley tried to stop the fight but were too afraid to go near the tattooed man.

The tattooed man started to beat up Sir Dickson. I tried to mind his business. After all, I was there to drink and not interfere. But when I heard Lesley scream and when I looked back and saw Sir Dickson's bloodied face and ripped clothes, with the tattooed man holding a knife to him, appearing to want to stab him, I knew I had to intervene. I, after all, learned some fighting skills a few years ago and am a pro at Judo.

So he reluctantly stood up and walked to the man.

"Let him go."

The tattooed man looked at me like he thought I was mad.

"Mind your business, pretty boy, before I make a mess of your rich face!" he threatened.

Then he turned back to face Sir Dickson, raising his knife and about to attack Dickson when he felt himself being swung around by a strong hand before receiving a punch on his face that ultimately knocked him out, sending him crashing to the ground.

A hush was in the bar as everyone looked at us. By their expressions, I could tell they were all surprised the impact of this vast yet rich-looking man could make the fool fall to the ground. They probably all thought I was going to be the defeated one.

I left the bar, a bit pissed, but not without Sir Dickson coming forward and shaking my hand.

Sir Dickson shook my hand as vigorously as possible to show his appreciation.

"Thank you so much! Thank you so much!"

I felt uncomfortable. Everyone was looking at me, and I hated unnecessary attention.

I then quickly walked out and left the bar. I was still on my way to my car when I saw a red car park beside me. It looked like the latest edition of that luxurious car that I once saw on the internet.

A woman stepped out of it. She wore a long suit that reached her calves and blue jeans. She also had brown and wavy hair. She looked very familiar, yet I did not know where I had seen her before.

That was until she turned, and I got a full view of her face. My heart stopped. It was her, the woman I had been thinking about often these days, whom I loved with all my heart and who I missed, who I had once thought I would spend my whole life with, who I had robbed, My ex-fiancee: Melanie .

MELANIE

I sat with my fiancé at an exquisite restaurant, giggling happily as we discussed. I felt very happy today. My application to intern at my dream company had been accepted, and I was to start my internship in a few days.

Chris Joe, my ever-loving boyfriend, had suggested we celebrate the success of my acceptance at a famous restaurant where they served the best cuisine.

"I still can't believe that I, my cute Melanie , would now be working at PamarooL & Co Ltd! I'm so happy for you, darling. It's what you've always wanted and what you deserve."

"I remember telling my friends back at college that I, too, will one day work at my dream Art company! They liked my work, you know? They were very impressed. So much so that they didn't want to interview me. They just sent the acceptance email instead! Can you believe it?"

Chris nodded in agreement, placing his glass cup on his lips and sipping his wine.

"I'm happy about the recent happenings. We deserve it, especially after how hard we had it back at college."

Chris just started administering his parents' company. In just a few months, the impact of his works was noticeable, and he had increased total profits by almost forty percent.

"Well, I wouldn't have survived it if you were not always by my side, protecting me, my loving protector," I said and brought my face closer to his, pressing my lips on his lips.

Chris kissed me back and then broke the kiss.

I returned to my seat and took a bite out of my meal.

Chris was staring down at his meal with a strange expression.

"Anything the matter?" I asked.

Chris looked up at me and told me there was nothing to worry about and continued eating. But then he stopped and said:

"The meal reminds me about my ex."

I was chewing a delicious bite of my food when I heard Chris mention an ex.

"Ex?" I asked.

He had an ex?

"You have an ex?"

That's a stupid question, though. Chris was now a grown man and one of the most desirable men in the city. Of course, he'll have an ex or exes. Would he have been celibate all those years I didn't know him?"

"Yes, my ex, Sasha," he replied.

"Oh, she has a beautiful name."

"You think so?"

"Yeah," I replied and took a sip of my wine.

I was feeling extremely jealous at the moment. Why were we talking about his ex on our date?

I asked no further questions and focused on my food. My cutleries made loud noises as they made contact with my plate as I ate. I was utilizing too much force in using them. That was why they were making such loud noises. It was not deliberate, but I was annoyed.

Chris seemed to sense my annoyance as he also didn't say anything. An awkward silence passed between us until I decided to break it.

"Was she beautiful?" I asked.

"Huh?"

"Your ex. Was she beautiful?" I asked again.

Chris stared at me. I knew he was searching my eyes to see my emotions. I knew he would lie about it if I showed how pissed I was. So I forced a smile before asking again.

"Was she beautiful?"

"Why do you want to know?" he asked.

"Nothing important. Just curious."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Sure you won't be mad? I know how you girls behave."

"And by these girls, do you mean your exes?"

"Melanie ."

I laughed, even though deep down I was not happy.

So Chris had more than one ex?

Okay, Melanie , you are being unrealistic and childish. Of course, he has more than one ex!

"I'm kidding. Tell me if she was beautiful or not."

Chris sighed heavily.

"She was beautiful."

"Oh."

"Hmmm-mmm."

"How beautiful was she?"

"Very beautiful. Long brown hair, green eyes, long legs, long neck. She looked like a model."

I clenched my fists that were under the table. I did not like that he was talking about his ex while he was on a freaking date with me! But I asked, so it wasn't entirely his fault.

"Is she more beautiful than I am?" I asked.

"Don't ask me that, Melanie. I know you want to trap me and then blame me for it," Chris said and laughed.

"Of course not! Why would I do such a thing? Wouldn't that be gas lighting? So what did you say reminded you of your ex again?"

"Well, it was the meal. She used to cook it a lot when we were still together. It was what she was best at cooking."

Chris smiled as he spoke, and at that moment, I felt like punching him in the face. Could he not see I didn't like him talking about her?

"Well, I had an ex too. And he was an excellent cook," I said, trying to spite Chris.

His expression changed, and I was satisfied.

"Really? Tell me about him."

"His name was Sebastiano. He was Italian. Very handsome and easy on the eyes, too. He was an Italian chef, and he made the best meals ever. The funny thing was that his meals made him win my heart. You know how much I love food, right?"

Chris nodded.

"We were so in love," I pressed on, trying to make Chris jealous, "I was naive and stupid. I thought we would get married and have five kids and five dogs- a rather silly dream if you would ask me."

"So what happened? Why didn't you get married and have five kids and five dogs?" Chris asked.

"Well, let us just say things never go as planned. He cheated, as all men do."

Chris placed his hand atop my hand.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

"Don't be. It was his loss. I don't understand why. No matter how much you think you are happy in a relationship, men would always go ahead and cheat. Why do you guys like doing that?"

Chris drew closer and placed his hand on my cheek.

"I will never cheat on you," he said, looking straight into my eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, my love."

We leaned over from across the table and kissed.

$$$

Funnily enough, the kiss couldn't reassure me. Immediately I got home, I went on the internet and scrolled through Sasha's Instagram account. She, indeed, was beautiful. Far more beautiful than I had ever been. I guess it's why Chris hadn't wanted to reply when I first asked him earlier. He didn't want to lie. I scrolled through her page, checking every detail. I wanted to know more about her. I wanted to know what she did, who she was, why Chris had not forgotten her, and why he still thought about her.

I scrolled through her pictures and realized there was no picture where she had posed with anyone as her boyfriend or love interest. She posted merely friends and families. That was until I scrolled down some more and saw pictures of her and Chris two years ago. They were numerous, and my blood boiled seeing them together. They looked so happy and contented with each other. Sasha seemed to have been in love with him at the time. She took pictures of almost all the things they did together.

Sasha had not deleted the pictures of her and Chris she had taken years ago.

There was still evidence of what they had once had, what they had once shared.

Is she still in love with him? It has been two years already. Usually, after a breakup, people erase all memories of their exes, not to remember the old times.

I have done it. My friends have done it. I have heard about others doing it. Why, then, did she not delete these pictures from her account?

Is she still into him? Is she hoping they would one day be back together? Does she want my man? What if she's still trying to get him back? What if she had messaged him several times, begging him to take her back?

Sasha had no right to still hold on to a relationship that was already over two years ago.

I slapped my hand on my forehead in frustration. I was overreacting. Chris had always told me to take things slowly, but I never listened. I'm just scared of losing Chris. That's my man, and no one is taking him from me. Even if it was this pretty bitch from his past who cooked shrimp just how he liked it.

"Baby?"

I looked back and saw Chris standing at the door, smiling.

"Yes, love?"

"I want to tell you something," he said, coming forward, sitting on the bed and kissing me.

Since moving in with Chris, my mouth had become his obsession. He spent every moment kissing it. And I loved it.

"What do you want to tell me?"

"My parents want to meet you," said Chris in between the kissing.

I stopped.

I couldn't believe that since we started dating, I had never considered meeting his parents, even though he was close to mine.

"Oh, that's great. I'm so excited to see them."

"Yeah. My parents live on the far side of town. We'll go there this Saturday."

He looked at my open laptop and asked:

"What are you doing online anyway?"

I quickly slammed the laptop shut. I didn't want him to know I was busy online stalking his ex-girlfriend.

"Okay, if you say so," Chris said and started walking out of the room, "Let's go make dinner together."

"Um....just go ahead and do so. I'm a bit tired this evening, so I'm not sure I'll be able to work in the kitchen as much. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you tomorrow. We'll cook breakfast and dinner together.

I sighed heavily when he left and ensured he had done it before I started stalking Sasha online again.

I learned about her favorite food, her profession, and her family. She even had a video of her makeup tutorial. I watched the video several times that evening, watching keenly every brush stroke she made on her face, every caress. I wanted to get it ideally so I could do it, too. That way, Chris would love me even more.

I was not insecure. I was merely trying to please the man I loved. Those were the words I repeated to myself that night as I stayed awake, practicing Sasha's kind of makeup on my face, and still not feeling assured that I was indeed not insecure.