My breath raced.
I knew he’d become one of Zaeem’s tools years ago. Even the way he bowed his head respectfully made me scoff.
Fuck.Press it down.Hold it, you arsehole.
My fists clenched tighter.
Our ending had become a sick joke, one I could barely stomach.
Staring at him in silence, I didn’t even know what my eyes conveyed—cold, sharp, cutting—but he showed no sign of wavering. He held my gaze while Natasha kept nudging me with subtle cues, horrified by the war I was waging against the man across from me.
Finally, a thin thread of calm surfaced. “Go—Tsabinu…” I hissed through clenched teeth. “What should I call you, Bibu?”
He flinched at the sound but quickly put his mask back on.With a faint, polite smile and annoying soft voice, he replied. “You may call me whatever you wish, sir.”
I scoffed, and a dry laugh escaped me. Shit. Bastards, the lot of them. My chest, my thoughts—all were roaring at the same time. I leaned back, my lips curling into a smile. He sat without a word in his chair, how obedient…
“Both of you,” I muttered, eyes flicking to the vodka glass before returning to him. “Neither of you has changed. One’s still innocent and naïve.”Naive and plain, I said, shaking my head. “And the other? Still flat and stuffy as a board.” A stuck-in-the-mud, dull as dishwater.
“I suspect you have lived rather well all this time, haven’t you?” My words were low, sharp. “No need to change a thing, huh?”
He flinched, and Natasha’s eyes widened in horror. She knew a little about my past with the twins because Zeraiah had told her a few things, and I knew she hadn’t expected me to snap like this. And she was right, I never did this. I couldn’t afford a single crack, fastening a practised expression, one that would benefit me in every possible way when it came to work.
But since the day I’d arrived, and seeing Tshabina again, I could feel the pieces inside me starting to crack, one by one.
I wished I could turn back time, back to before Zaeem pulled me into this. Sensing myself on the brink of detonating, I shot to my feet. “Excuse me, I need to go to the restroom,” I said, chest heaving.
The moment I pushed the door open, I went still.
Down the hall, a figure walked towards the lift, hand in hand with a young woman.
And that was it.
Everything snapped.
Darkness came, and once again, I was left seeing nothing.
8
Tshabina
I swept past people, my steps so fast the world blurred around me. An hour later, I stood in the luxurious lobby of a five-star hotel and lounge, right in the heart of Central Jakarta: Claid Hotel & Lounge.
Panting hard, I glanced at my watch—half past eight. I rushed into the lift, bumping into people on their way out in desperation to get upstairs.
When the doors to the rooftop bar floor opened, my pulse hammered in my ears as I scanned the place—searching and searching—for him.
I didn’t even know what I’d say when I found him. Or what I’d do, but my mind kept spinning, offering nothing but the worst futures.
“Can I help you, miss?” A woman’s voice startled me. I turned to see a smiling waitress.
“I—yes,” I stammered, swallowing hard. “I’m here for… Mr. Zioh? Zioh Danudara?”
Her smile faltered. She glanced behind her for confirmation before a middle-aged man stepped forward. “Excuse me, are you Mrs Sophie?”
The name struck me like lightning. Almost no one ever called me that anymore. Only one person ever had.
“Yes,” I answered, almost stumbling over the words. “I’m… Tshabina Sophia.”
