6

Samantha

I looked at Martinez as he slept peacefully next to me, his head resting on his arms.

He hasn't even bothered to explain to me where he was last night. Not that I care anymore. I just...a little explanation can't hurt. At the same time, I know he'll lie to me.

I need to end this. I'm tired of feeling like shit. Like it's me and not him. I question myself every day, whether it was me or not. Maybe I'm the problem.

I loved him. I did nothing but love this man. Where did I go wrong? Was I not woman enough for him?

It's pointless asking myself these questions. It's over now. I realised that the more he did this, the less I loved him. I wonder to myself how I fell out of love with him. I can't even stomach the thought of his hands on me. I just...

I have to end this.

His phone vibrated on his nightstand. Martinez is a heavy sleeper, so he didn't hear it. I made no move to wake him up or answer it. It rang for a long time before it stopped. Then a message came through.

I got curious and found myself reaching for the phone. Turning it over, my heart leapt when I read the message.

Pamela: Ready for our appointment, baby? I'm so excited.

Appointment? What appointment? Where are they going? It's the fact that he didn't even hide her name.

"Ugh..." I yanked the covers off of me and got off the bed, walking to the bathroom. I did my morning routine and took a shower.

I don't know where I'm going, but I can't stay in this house. It's the weekend, and I'm supposed to be relaxed and enjoying myself. I'm just getting pissed over a man I'm losing interest in.

I picked a nice white strappy sundress that reached my mid-thighs. I paired it with nude sandals and attempted to style my curls. I got impatient and decided to just brush through it and leave it like that.

"Hey, you're awake," Martinez said, waking up.

"Yeah, I'm going out," I told him, eyeing him through the mirror, as I put on my accessories.

"Out?" He looked up at me, eyeing my outfit. "looking like that?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" I turned to him.

"That dress is too revealing, Samantha," he said. "We wouldn't want your buddies to look at you a different kind of way." I glared at him through the mirror.

"If you're going to insult me, Martinez, I'd suggest you don't bring my friends into this."

"I wasn't insulting you, babe. I'm just pointing out—"

"Don't," I said. "You lost the right too." I grabbed my bag and walked out, fighting back tears.

He's unbelievable. Seriously. How dare he tell me what to wear.

"Good morning, Jordan," I greeted my driver when I got out. Checking my watch, it was just after nine, and I hadn't eaten. I like sleeping late on the weekends. I deserve an extra sleep after a hectic week at the office. "Uh, just drive to town please," I said, getting in.

I haven't had breakfast. Might as well find a restaurant. I'm not going back into that house.

●

"Hey, Michael and I are coming to get you, okay?" I smiled when Jackson called me. I can already tell they're on the way.

"I'm in town," I let him know, slurping on my shake. I like to eat greasy food on the weekends before I attempt to keep it healthy. With Michael, I always fail. I'm yet to embrace that. "Don't go to the house."

"You're in town? It's 10 am," I rolled my eyes.

"Just get your asses here, will you?" It'll be nice to have company.

I finished my breakfast while I waited for them to arrive. Judging by the soft gasps and murmurs, I predicted they were here. They always attract people wherever they go. At some point, I believed that it hadn't sunk in that Jackson and Michael are dating. They went public with it, but people refuse to acknowledge them as a couple; instead, they're a hot duo worthy of being drooled at.

It sucks to have hot friends when you are a lump of misery. And. We can't forget that, now can we? The society designed an automatic alarm clock system to serve as a reminder that we are still very much inferior, 2 decades into democracy.

"Ladies," I turned at the sound of Jackson's flirty voice. The ladies sitting by my booth swoon, looking at the two with heart eyes. I rolled my eyes and turned back to my pretty much finished plate.

Michael let Jackson sit first before taking a seat opposite me. I eyed Jackson's scrunched face as he shimmied around the seat. "Stop moving, love. You're making it worse," Michael eyed Jackson.

"I can't," Jackson said through gritted teeth. "These seated are fucking hard."

"Like my dick, right?" Michael smirked when Jackson visibly blushed, though irritated by his man's statement.

"Earth to the couple," I waved my hand up. "Third wheel over here,"

"Sorry, princesa," Jackson said, shifting around. "Don't mind me, I'm nursing the aftermath of tempting the beast." He threw a glare at Michael, who smiled slyly.

"You're calling me a beast?" Michael raised his perfect dark brow at his man.

"Well then, if not you, then your dick is a beast," Jackson said.

"Aw, thanks, babe," Michael said, boasting proudly.

"Ugh, you're the worst," Jackson grumbled under his breath, looking down. Michael chuckled lowly before leaning in to smother Jackson with kisses, rendering him weak and smiling. I watched the two with admiration, a smile forming on my lips.

I'm really happy for them. They're my power couple.

"Why are you smiling?" Michael's deep, curious voice broke me off the trance.

"Huh?" I blinked, playing with the straw. "Nothing. I just...you guys look really happy and...in love," I said softly. "I guess it makes me happy."

They both eyed me suspiciously, and I know they're thinking about what I told them. I wished I didn't, but at the same time, I'm glad I did. Now I feel like I don't have to face this alone.

"You took off your ring?" Jackson reached out to take my left hand, noticing the absence of the diamond stone that usually sat there.

"Uh, yeah," I cleared my throat, pulling my hand back, looking around. I wasn't ready to go public with this yet. I need to figure things out first. I still need to have the divorce papers drafted so I can give them to Martinez. "I guess...this is it," I said softly. "I'm finally...letting go. I can't stay in this relationship when it's doing nothing but hurt me, you know? I just need to..." I cleared my throat to get rid of the lump forming in my throat. "I owe it to myself." I blinked back tears threatening to spill.

I can't cry now. I have no reason to cry anymore. I've accepted this. This is what I want.

I have to let him go.

"Oh princesa," Jackson scooted closer to me, pulling me to him. Michael had also taken the space next to me, on my right, taking my hand. "You have us, okay? We got you, little bunny," I found myself giggling at the nickname.

"Michael, stop calling me that already."

Whilst Jackson grew up calling me 'angel' or 'princesa', Michael opted for 'bunny'. I got the nickname 'angel' because of my curly hair. Jackson liked the texture and the volume of my curls. He said it looked like a halo, hence the name angel. When I was twelve, I fell while we were playing. They were both teaching me how to ride a bicycle, and I fell face down and broke my front teeth. It didn't help that they were already big. Michael resorted to calling me bunny because of that. Occasionally, he'd add 'cute', 'little' or just 'naughty bunny' when I'm troublesome.

Secretly, I liked that I had unique names from them. And they all held a certain meaning: good or mildly disrespectful. To me at least.

"Never," Michael said, allowing a soft smile to grace his face, giving my hand a tight squeeze. "Not when it gets you to smile," I returned his smile before leaning against Jackson's shoulder.

"I'm going to be okay, guys," I said quietly. "I promise, I'll be fine soon enough."

"We know, princesa," Jackson said gently. "We got you, okay?" I felt him press his lips on my crown.

"We got you..."