Sugar Daddy✔️

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What's happening? I think in panic.

"Madam are you okay?" Sarah reaches out towards me, but I step away.

"I am." I manage a smile, trying to handle the situation that is strangely foreign to me. I swallow repeatedly but the lump is stuck in my throat and the tears threaten to fall.

"Are you really okay madam?"

"Please...just tell...me...where he's gone."

"He said he was going to the HBQ restaurant not too far away from here for a meeting. I think he also mentioned that he did not want any disturb–"

"Thank you." I say before she can finish and head towards the massive gate that seems blurry in my view. HBQ, here I come.

The eatery turns out to be really close by as it takes the taxi driver no more than five minutes to arrive at the venue. Feeling more calm and composed than before, I smooth my emerald coloured, ankle-length gown over my hips and check my makeup on my phone before I start walking towards my destination.

"You don't have to make yourself look pitiful Ada. All you are here to do is ask why and that's all. You are not here to beg him to love you or put on an emotional display in front of him. If he rejects you, it's okay. After all, you are the one who caused all of this. You fell for your client against the most important rule in sugar-dealing." I give myself a long pep talk so I can be prepared for when I finally face him.

Truthfully, I have never been one to jump into a fire without looking first. I always take my time to think about all that I do which allows me to make calculated moves and also meticulously calculate those of the people around me. Yet recently–with Eric–I never know what he's thinking of or what his plans are. I am instead left hanging in surprise when he dumps his actions on me with the ease of reading the ABCs–not a care nor a mind paid.

No matter how hard I ponder, the answer just does not come to me on the question: Why am I so different around him?

Whenever we are together, it is almost impossible to let the common, simple lies I normally told before I met him slip off my tongue. All I see myself doing are things I want him to approve of while presenting myself in ways I wish he would desire or acknowledge when ordinarily, I don't give a damn about a single person's opinion but mine. What is wrong with me?

"Stop overthinking and overanalysing things Adannaya. Just ask him why and–" my words are blown off course by the scene playing in front of my eyes. The pain I feel next is like tiny pieces of my heart being ripped apart without mercy.

Behind a transparent glass wall, there my fake-fiancé stands with a pretty lady who is way shorter than he is. He enfolds her in his arms and the woman I don't know tightens her grip on his waist as they embrace each other. Then he pats her hair and bends to kiss her on the cheek. I expect myself to be pissed off and run to the traitor in rage, but I am double-crossed when my tear ducts open up their passageway instead.

The tears come in torrents.

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes that long for me to rush out of the restaurant, blinded by my furious tears and deafened by my loud, ugly sobs. I don't know what street I take, but it leads me to a dead end where I settle down to cry heart-wrenchingly on a worn out bench.

The tears refuse to stop.

There is no lie in the fact that it is foolish of me to cry over a man I barely know, but I can't help it. I cry for my stupid stupidity, then for the years I wasted thinking I was a pro in outwitting men, then I cry lastly for the aching in my heart that tells the painful truth that I don't hate him even though I'm trying to.