Love's Fool (A Short Story)
(C) 2018 by Ikenna Igwe




SYNOPSIS
Love, undoubtedly, is a beautiful thing. And it’s more beautiful when one falls in love with the right person.
Fred and Rachael meet at the university. They both become friends, and over time fall in love with each other. Rachael is Fred’s first love. And as such he treats her like the queen he truly believes she is.
While the couple is looking forward to getting married an unexpected twist occurs. Fred is ruthlessly betrayed by his sweetheart. He is left totally heartbroken. But the story doesn’t end there. Rachael’s despicable action soon paves way for dire consequences. In the end it is a sour mix of sorrow, regret and, ultimately, death.




CHAPTER ONE

BEFORE I BEGIN my story I’d like to say a few words about love. No doubt, it’s a beautiful thing. And yes, being in love with someone who sincerely reciprocates it is nothing short of divine.
So, when you do find true love, hold it dearly, nurture it carefully, and, more importantly, treat it with the respect it deserves.
It is true that love hurts. But don’t let us forget...it also heals.
Here is my story…
I was reliable informed, by my parents, that I came into this world on a rainy Monday night, in the month of July, in the late 70’s. My mother had just finished eating dinner, and was about to drink a glass of water, when she felt some contractions in her stomach. After the last one her water broke.
My father, along with a few neighbours, promptly rushed her to a hospital, which was fortunately nearby. Within thirty minutes of arriving at the medical centre my mother gave birth to me.
My name is Fredrick Etoa. But you, like everyone does, can simply call me Fred. The only exception to this name calling is my mother. She calls me Freddie. I know it sounds girlish. But, hey, she’s my mother, okay?
I’m the last child in a family of five: my parents, and two older siblings – a boy and a girl. My parents are Christians. But my mother is more devout than my father. Naturally we, the kids, were raised with sound Christian morals. We were good kids. And I believe we still are.
My parents were traders. They owned two shops at Tabade Market – located at Yaba – in Lagos State, where they sold curtain materials. They were well-to-do, and this reflected in my siblings and I being well catered for.
Like I said earlier, we were properly brought up – in addition to the fact that the three of us were born into a church, firmly grounded in the doctrine of holiness.
As a good kid I did my best not to be enslaved by any vice. Oh, no, don’t get me wrong. I said I was a good kid. I never said I was a perfect one.
Now, I’m the precocious type. I’ve always being that way from childhood. I like discovering new stuff. For instance, at the age of seven, while most of my mates were still busy cuddling up to their toys I already knew a thing or two about sex. Thanks to Helen – the house help we had back then. I believed she really liked me. So I guessed that was why she usually gave me full access to handle her intimate parts anytime we were both alone together.
She was twenty-one at this time. She encouraged me, citing reasons I can’t quite remember, to engage in sex as early and as often as possible.
I also guessed that contributed to why I had my first sexual encounter with a lady who was eleven years my senior. I was fifteen then. I won’t bore you with the details of how that went. But I can tell you, for sure, that the entire body chemistry was, for me, a rather noxious experience.
For my partner, however, it was thorough bliss as she wildly, like some depraved maniac, milked every drop of pleasure she could get from me. She was quite hell bent on solely satisfying herself – without the slightest regard for my well being, internally or otherwise.
Sadly, she was one of those women who are moved more by their bodies than by their brains – and definitely not my type. Consequently I broke up with her – a break up that was easy since I felt no ounce of love for her.
Anyway let’s move on. Over the years, as I grew older, I had a couple of girlfriends – but no one special. And if you must know, I, with the exception of the lady I mentioned earlier, didn’t have carnal knowledge of any of them – even though almost all of them wanted me to water the entire perimeter of their private gardens. But, truthfully, I wasn’t really interested in sex. My ‘first time’ chiefly took place out of unbridled curiosity; I, acting on the seed already planted in my mind by Helen, wanted to know how the experience felt like, nothing more. And like you already know, it wasn’t fun for me at all.
Now, I didn’t let myself to fall in love with any girl because of a promise I had made to myself, when I was just nine years old. Then, I stated that the only woman I would ever fall in love with – after I must have graduated from the university and secured a good job – would be the one I’d marry.
However, like a coin, there are usually two sides to a promise. It’s either you keep it, or you break it. As it turned out...I broke mine.

CHAPTER TWO

TEACHING IS AN integral part of who I am. I started doing it when I was in primary four. However, I began earning some money from it when I got to senior secondary two. I worked, part time, as a teacher for a Home Tutor Agency. I taught various subjects at both the primary and secondary school levels; and I continued with the job while I was at the university. By the way, I’m a graduate of Quantity Surveying from the University of Lagos.
I met Rachael for the very first time during a teaching session. That particular day I had gone to teach the fresh students in my department. I was in year four at this time. These students, who had just tasted a few weeks of the first semester, were grappling with some of their courses – especially the core ones. This, of course, is not uncommon with Jambites.
In my usual manner, and just as I had done (and was still doing at the time) to the students who came before them, I went and taught the year-one students, severally.
So, on the day in question, after lecturing them on one of their core courses, I asked if there were questions. I always encouraged my students, in general, not to be shy or scared of asking questions – no matter how dumb they might look or sound.
None of the new intakes indicated with either hand. I was about to ask if they clearly understood what they’d learned when a certain girl, seated almost at the back of the class, indicated with her right hand and stood up to ask her question.
I observed she was remarkably beautiful and blessed with a curvaceous body; and she was a strange face, because I knew all the students in my department by face – and most of them by name.
The gorgeous girl asked a question she wouldn’t have if she had attended one of the previous lectures I’d had with her course mates. She explained to me that she joined the class late; in fact, she was yet to commence her registration as a bona fide student of the university.
Well, I answered her question satisfactorily. Her colleagues had none. So I dropped the marker I was writing with on a table. The students thanked me graciously for the lecture, and arranged for my next one with them.
My stomach growled with hunger as I left their classroom.
________
Once outside, I headed for one of the school’s cafeterias for lunch. I had taken just a few steps when someone ran up to me. It was the attractive year-one girl. She apologised for stopping me in my tracks. I told her not to worry about it – since I was already used to having students stop me on the way all the time, to ask me one thing or another – either relating to their courses or something else.
I have to admit here that I was quite popular in school. A lot of students, as well as lecturers, in my faculty and others, knew me. This was because I had one of the best results in the school. In fact, I was second place on that particular list. And with the way things were going academically there was no doubt that I would finish as number one, which I eventually did.
So Rachael (she introduced herself) wanted a personal favour. She appealed earnestly to me to lecture her, privately, as she desperately wanted to catch up with her course mates. She was almost on her knees as she unfurled this request. Without giving it a second thought, the teacher in me agreed. After all, nothing gladdens the heart of a good teacher like a student who is sincerely willing to learn. We fixed a day and time for the first lecture.
And that was how it all began. Within a short time our relationship advanced from teacher and student to being good friends. She told me about herself, her interests, her family and other things. I did the same. We were both from the same state, and our villages were merely thirty minutes apart.
Somewhere along the line I discovered, and much to my astonishment, that I always wanted to be with Rachael. I noticed I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I just didn’t understand it. Am I falling in love with her? I thought severally. I wasn’t certain, initially. However, one thing, which was crystal clear, was that whenever I was with her I felt whole. She really filled an emptiness I had been feeling, for years, on the inside.
At a point, however, I became certain of the fact that I was totally in love with Rachael. Of course, at first, I didn’t tell her. I didn’t know if she felt the same way. I knew she really liked me; but did she love me, or was she in love with me? I wasn’t sure.
I decided to confide in my close friends. Their suggestion was simple. They wanted me to tell Rachael how I felt about her. They were quite happy for me; happy that for the first time in the four years they’d known me I was in love with a girl.
They were aware of the sizeable number of the female folk (mostly in my department) who flocked around me to teach them one course or another. Girls from my faculty, as well as from other faculties, also came to me to teach them Mathematics and English Language, which were courses across the board.
Naturally some of these girls wanted something that went beyond teaching; they desired us to share a deeper, tender friendship. A few bold ones wanted us to be friends with benefits...with promises of regular, mind-blowing sex. One of them even told me that a guy like me wasn’t created for just one woman. But, on the overall, I believed these girls were all drawn by my popularity and high academic intelligence. I didn’t blame them. Neither did I fool around with any of them.
So, against the risk of being rejected I followed my friends’ suggestion.
_______
On a certain Saturday afternoon I took Rachael out for lunch. It was at a popular fast-food restaurant. There, after our meals, I poured out my heart to her. She listened attentively, with a rather amused expression.
When I was done with the love speech she smiled – she had a bewitching smile – and said, “Fred, you don’t know just how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say everything you just did. Honestly, baby, I fell in love with you the very first day I set eyes on you…while you were teaching in our class. And since then I’ve been having a lot of sleepless nights… just thinking about you. Fred, dear, I can’t wait to be your sweetheart.”
No doubt I was greatly relieved.

wow! interesting... Luv at first sight

CHAPTER THREE


RACHAEL AND I were in love, so in love, with each other. It was pure bliss. I was living on cloud nine, sharing my life and aspirations with the girl of my dreams – or so it seemed.
From the moment we actually became a couple I assumed full responsibility for her. I was brought up with the notion that a real man ought to treat his woman with utmost respect, handle her delicately, and take great care of her – meeting her every need, as humanly possible as he could.
So, with this view in mind, I paid for Rachael’s accommodation because she lived quite a distance from UNILAG. I regularly bought her gift items such as clothes, bags, shoes, jewelleries, and other related stuff. I also saw to her feeding.
Like I stated in the previous chapter I was earning some money as a part time home tutor. Aside from that, I also made money from teaching students (who were offering Quantity Surveying) from other higher institutions such as Yaba College Of Technology, Lagos State Polytechnic, Obafemi Awolowo University and Federal University Of Technology, Akure.
These students, acting on strong recommendations from students in my department, as well as in others, all came to UNILAG for me to lecture them.
In addition to these sources of income my close friends and I ran a kind of Mini Business Centre in our hostel room. We had two desktop computers and a printer; and we received regular patronage from students in various faculties of our school who wanted their documents typed and/or printed out. We kicked off the business in our sophomore year.
Furthermore, my pocket money, which wasn’t bad, from my parents, always came in handy, where necessary.
So, taking care of Rachael’s financial needs wasn’t really a problem, as I had cash to burn. I can’t exactly remember ever failing to give her money any time she requested for it.
As far as her academic needs were concerned I was also on point. Naturally, I helped her out with virtually all her assignments. And when it came to the tests and examinations, I usually read her lecture notes and handouts; and then marked out areas where I felt questions were most likely to be set from. I could do this because, to a great extent, I knew the mode of setting questions adopted by each lecturer in my department. I was that good. So Rachael was on a strong second class lower.
When it came to the area of the physical I never pressured her for sex. I was willing to wait, if need be, until we got married.
Now, this doesn’t mean we didn’t relate intimately. We both weren’t logs of wood you know. We normally kissed – sometimes passionately – and cautiously caressed each other. We’d mutually agreed not to take it any further than that.
However, one cool evening, while we were alone in my hostel room, we had both lost control. We were in the process of ripping our clothes apart in readiness for what would, no doubt, have been earthshaking sex when an unexpected knock on the door had reset our sex drives to zero.
We were both annoyed and relieved at the intrusion; annoyed that we’d been obviated from screwing ourselves silly, and relieved that it was perhaps best that we had been interrupted – since we’d agreed to save ourselves for marriage.
My intense love for Rachael was quite obvious to everyone. Honestly, I became literally obsessed with her. I could do anything for her. At various times my friends, and others who knew me, advised me to take things slow and easy – but I turned a deaf ear. I was already a willing captive in love’s prison.
I have to admit here that one of the reasons I fell hard for Rachael was because she told me she was a virgin. And I believed her. The thing was... I’d always wanted to marry a virgin. I even earnestly prayed for one. So, you can imagine the extent of what I felt for Rachael.
She and I won the Best Couple Award for that year (the second semester of my fourth year in school) during the occasion of our department’s gala/award night.


*Chapter Four will be uploaded on Wednesday. Stay tuned.

CHAPTER FOUR


IN MY FIFTH and final year I became the General Secretary of the National Association of Quantity Surveying Students (NAQSS), UNILAG Chapter. For a fairly long while some of the students in my department were quite unhappy with me. They, like their colleagues, had wanted me as the NAQSS President, which was the post I was initially gunning for during the election campaigning process.
But due to certain political interests I had to step down for the guy who eventually emerged as the President. He was the then HOD’s mannequin. What my fellow students simply knew was that I had stepped down for someone they didn’t want...someone they didn’t like...someone who wasn’t academically on par with me. But what they didn’t know was why I had actually done that. I gave them what I considered to be the simplest excuse: I was no longer interested in becoming the Association’s President because I didn’t think I would be able to measure up to all that would be required of me. Of course many of them didn’t believe me. All the same I appealed for their understanding.
The fact, however, was that I had been threatened with academic failure – by the HOD and one other man, whose face wasn’t familiar – if I didn’t allow their ‘boy’ to contest, unopposed. They knew that, that was the only way the guy would win the election. I was also severely warned not to disclose the truth to anyone.
I, for one, didn’t want any form of trouble. I was in my final year, with an excellent result, which I had earned through hard-work and God’s grace; so I kept my mouth shut, and settled for the post of General Secretary, which I won with ease.
I didn’t even tell Rachael about the threat. And as for my parents, siblings and close friends...they got to know the truth a year or so after I graduated.
Okay – Rachael and I continued our idyllic relationship. Eventually, we began planning on when best to meet our parents; of course not for marital reasons at this time. We just wanted to know them better. Although my parents knew I was dating Rachael, they were yet to meet her in person. A similar thing went for Rachael’s parents.
I must state here that I had really wanted us to meet each other’s parents much earlier – about three months after we began dating. But whenever I brought it up, Rachael had insisted we wait. Trussed by love I had listened to her, each time.
Anyway, Rachael and I eventually agreed to wait till the second semester was over. However, I met her elder sister, Naomi, twice, when she came to visit her at school. She was a pretty and soft-spoken girl. We exchanged phone numbers. And I usually called her at intervals to know how she was doing.
So, I was still gleefully sailing the cruise ship of love when the first missile of negative information came hurtling my way.
_______
I was having lunch with a friend, in another faculty, when he told me something I found quite difficult to process mentally. But before he did that he had wanted to know if Rachael and I were still a couple. Although surprised I answered in the affirmative.
He asked, “Are you sure, man?”
I was troubled by the troubled look on his face.
Nonetheless I responded, “Yes, I am. Is there a problem?”
He kept quiet, still wearing the odd expression. It was as if he was debating within himself if it would be judicious for him to tell me what he wanted to.
I urged him to go ahead; that whatever it was, I could handle it.
So he did.
According to him, a few days back, on a Saturday night actually, he had gone clubbing, somewhere in Ikoyi. While he was seated, in a corner, at the club, having a drink or two, and occasionally looking at some of the couples who were throwing it down on the dance floor, nearby, his eyes had suddenly settled on one of them. And that was because they were dancing in a more suggestive manner than the rest. He was about to look away when he discovered that the girl looked rather familiar. On a closer examination, and to his astonishment, it was Rachael! He looked closely at her male companion. It wasn’t me. My friend shook his head a couple of times to clear his mind. Perhaps the alcohol had kicked in – showing him false visions. But no, he was fine. It was Rachael, dancing seductively away with a stranger.
A while later the couple left the club, hand in hand.
When my friend was through with the report, I asked him if he was certain of what he had said; and more importantly, of whom he had seen. He assured me that, unless my girlfriend had an identical twin sister, he was.
There was a moment of silence as I weighed his words and tried to make sense of what I’d just heard. Is this guy telling me the truth? That he actually saw Rachael, my Rachael, in a club, fooling around with another man? No, that’s impossible. Yes, he’s mistaken, I thought. Eventually I smiled and told my informant that I would handle the matter. Of course I didn’t. I didn’t ask Rachael about it. I didn’t believe she was guilty of such a despicable thing. I let it go at that.
_______
Three weeks later I received another shocking report, from another friend who, at this time, was a student of the Federal Technical College, Akoka.
According to him, while he was having lunch at a fast-food restaurant, he had seen Rachael, seated some tables away, having lunch with a man. Well, he figured there was nothing really wrong in that. A couple of minutes later the man lovingly stroked Rachael’s right wrist. He said something (apparently nice) to her, and she smiled, warmly. The couple now leaned in close, across the table, and kissed – a kiss that lasted several seconds. Now, there was something really wrong in that. After the lip-action, and lunch, Rachael and her companion stood up and walked out of the restaurant – again, hand in hand.
I couldn’t believe my ears...my baby...kissing another man? No. Never! Like before, I felt that was impossible. I couldn’t, or let me say refused to, believe that Rachael was cheating on me. Maintaining composure I told this friend of mine what I had told the other one; that I would handle the matter.
Again, I didn’t.
_______
Then a week later, my two best friends, who were staying in one of the school’s hostel, called me aside and unleashed yet another bitter surprise. I’d like to point out here that I didn’t actually live in the hostel – because my house wasn’t far from UNILAG. But I had a bed space, which I used whenever I wanted to repose or take a nap.
My buddies made it clear that they, at first, didn’t want to tell me anything – given the insane love I had for Rachael. But, eventually, they had felt obliged to do so. They felt it wasn’t fair, on their part, to continue to keep something, they considered as an ‘urgent affair’, away from me. I urged them to go on; and patiently listened as they told me what they had observed about Rachael.
According to them, on three different occasions, they had seen my sweetheart climbing down from a car, at night, and carrying two bulky polythene bags – obviously filled with goodies – to her hostel. The car – a 2002 Toyota Camry – usually dropped her off in front of her hostel. The driver, and possibly the owner, of the vehicle was a male.
I was dumbfounded. What in the world is happening here? Am I being lied to, collectively, by my four informants? Is this some sort of conspiracy perpetrated by those who are, perhaps, jealous of my happiness? Or is everything one huge sick joke?’
I didn’t know.
My two friends advised me to talk to Rachael and find out exactly what was going on. I shook my head, sadly, in confusion, and promised them that I would do just that. And this time I meant it. After all, there is a scriptural saying that in the mouths of two or three witnesses shall every word be established. Well, in my case, I had four witnesses. What more did I need.
My two friends continued. In their opinion there was no doubt that Rachael was cheating on me...playing me for a fool, using a Spanish (or Nigerian?) guitar. They advised, more like instructed, me to dump her fast if it became necessary, and get a new girl. In fact, they wondered what I, unlike them, was doing with just one girlfriend...when a lot of birds were flocking around my feet...birds that couldn’t wait for me to reach down, pick them up, and throw them in my cage. If I remember correctly, each of them was simultaneously dating three different girls at this time. And none of the girls knew one another. ‘Why stick to one, when there was more than enough to go round?’ was one of my friends’ relationship mottos. But that wasn’t my style. It wasn’t my thing. I was a strict observer of the one man-one woman rule.
I still am.
As earlier promised, I summoned enough courage and confronted Rachael. With tears streaming down her lovely cheeks she told me her own version of everything.
First, she denied, outright, that she was the one at the club – dancing away seductively with another guy. Second, she admitted to having had lunch with the guy at the fast-food restaurant. However, she denied ever allowing him to touch her warmly, or kiss her. She told me the guy was just an old secondary school colleague. Third, the guy with the 2002 Toyota Camry was her cousin, who owned a boutique – where he sold sport wears and other accessories – on Lagos Island. She visited him occasionally; and whenever she did he usually insisted on buying her foodstuff and, sometimes, cosmetic products – in addition to dropping her off at school.
When I asked her, “Why does he drop you off at night?”
She replied, “He closes the boutique late, because his customers patronise him more in the evenings.”
Still shedding tears, she looked deeply into my eyes. “Baby, I love you with all my heart. I will never do anything to hurt you. I’m not cheating on you. Why would I do a dreadful thing like that? No man can ever complete me like you do. I cannot live a single moment without you. You are the core of my existence. You are my life!”
Her passion-soaked words were quite moving. We were seated on one of the stone-benches at UNILAG’s lagoon front. It was early evening, and a zephyr was blowing. It was soothing. I studied my girlfriend. Her tears looked real. Her sad, facial expression looked real. On the whole everything she said had verisimilitude. I made my decision. I believed her. I pulled her close and kissed away her tears.
Curiously, she didn’t ask me the source(s) of my negative information. And I on the other hand didn’t tell her. It didn’t matter anyway. The records had been set straight. That was what I felt mattered. How wrong I was.


Stay tuned for Chapter Five tomorrow.

Nice work bro....keep it up

CHAPTER FIVE

MY SECOND AND final semester examinations were, finally, over. Thank goodness! I was quite certain I would finish with a good first class honours. Like most final year students it felt great to know that, at last, I was free from the academic shackles of my first degree.
However, I knew, in some ways, I was going to really miss UNILAG. No more student politics. No more meals at any of the cafeterias. No more frequent lagoon front visits. Moreover, I was going to miss the school because I had no intention of returning for my Masters Degree program – or any other program for that matter. My eyes were set elsewhere – on a renowned foreign university.
After the second semester exams the students, staying in the various hostels, were required to vacate them and head for their respective homes – wherever they were. School was going on a long break.
I helped Rachael out with her luggage and other related items. We transported them from her hostel room to the boot of a car – a station wagon – where they were well arranged. By the way, I hired the vehicle.
When we were done arranging her stuff I pulled her aside, hugged her closely, and kissed her tenderly. She returned the gesture. I was truly going to miss seeing her every day, for some time. We had agreed to meet our parents, one after the other, in two weeks time. The plan was that I’d meet hers first, and then she’d meet mine.
We spoke for a little while. I don’t remember exactly what we talked about. But it was all sweet nonsense. When the discussion was over I gave her another bear hug, another tender kiss, and then I let her go. She went to the vehicle, got in, blew me a kiss and waved, before the driver drove off. I waved back and mouthed ‘I love you’ to her. She smiled and reciprocated with, ‘I love you too.’ I watched the station wagon disappear in the distance. I kind of felt sad. But then I knew we could always talk over the phone.
Later that evening I called to find out if she got home safely.
She did.
_______
Two days later I called her to know how she was doing. But her phone was switched off. Thirty minutes later I called her again. Her phone was still switched off.
Throughout that day I couldn’t reach her by phone. This continued the next day. This had never happened before. I gradually became worried. I called her sister, Naomi. Her phone was also switched off. That’s odd, I thought. Did they both misplace their phones? Or have their phones been stolen?
The switch off mode went on for another three days. By this time I was really perturbed. Then, when I couldn’t wait any longer, I decided to visit Rachael, for the first time, at home and find out exactly what was wrong.
I consulted my little diary for her house address. However, at this point, a thought suddenly occurred to me. I called Tope – one of Rachael’s course mates, and a close friend. Thankfully, her line went through. She answered on the second ring. I narrated my predicament to her. She told me the last time she had spoken with Rachael was a day before Rachael left the hostel for home. And she, like me, was also finding it difficult to reach her by phone. I told her of my intention to visit Rachael, and she encouraged me to do so. I thanked her for her time, and was about to hang up, when her next statement took me by surprise.
She said, “So, Fred, you and Rachael are planning to get married very soon, and then travel out of the country – right?”
Regaining equanimity I asked her, “Who told you that?”
“Well, I overheard Rachael saying something to that effect over the phone. And when I asked her about it, she was evasive. So Fred, tell me…is it true?”
I didn’t exactly know how to respond, so I simply said, “Er…well…anything is possible, you know.”
“Hmm…you just gave me a coded answer – just like Rachael did.” She sounded hurt.
I forced a laugh. “Don’t be offended, Tope; it’s just that...Rachael and I don’t want to...em...ruin the...er....er...our plans. I’m certain Rachael will tell you everything when the time is right.”
The last remark seemed to appease her, as she laughed, heartily, and said, “Okay, whatever you guys say. All I know is that I can’t wait to eat your wedding cake.”
We, both, laughed, said goodbye, and hung up.
Clearly, I was puzzled by what Tope had said. Yes, Rachael and I were planning to get married – but not very soon. We’d agreed to walk down the aisle together after I was done with my National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) program, and must have worked for about a year. Fortunately, I had a very lucrative job patiently waiting for me.
And then there was the troubling issue of travelling out of the country. Rachael and I had no such plan. We’d never even talked about it...even though I was considering taking her to either Paris or Seychelles for our honey moon. But I hadn’t even mentioned the idea to her.
I wondered if Tope was certain of what she had overheard. Anyway, her information deeply reinforced my decision to visit Rachael...a decision I decided to carry out the following afternoon. But that was not to be, because at exactly 10AM that day I received the greatest shock of my life.
It came in a small package, well wrapped and delivered by one of the world’s most prominent courier company – DHL.
_______
I took the package upstairs, to my room, sat on my bed, and opened it. It contained two items: a photograph and a folded piece of A4 paper. The former sent out the first batch of shock waves. It was a wedding photograph of Rachael and a man, another man. The room began to spin. The latter item, the folded piece of paper, let loose the second batch of shock waves. I placed the unbelievable photograph on the bed beside me and, composing myself as best as I could, slowly unfolded the paper with shaky fingers. It was a letter, and it read:
Hello Fred. As you can see, from the picture in your hand, I’m married. It’s a pity things didn’t work out between us. To be honest, I never truly loved you. You were only a distraction; a means to an end. But to be fair to you, I liked you. I still do. I know you’re a nice guy, with a good heart. And I’m pretty sure you’ll find someone who is truly yours. My sweetheart and I are out of the country. Take care of yourself. Have a good life.
Rachael.
Note: Don’t bother talking to any member of my family about us. As far as they’re concerned you and I are nothing more than friends.
I read the letter again, and then again. As the incredible words drenched my soul I felt my head expanding a hundred times over. I was stippled with gooseflesh. The fog was utterly blinding. I felt my heart being torn to bits as something viciously stabbed repeatedly at it. I tried to speak, but my vocal cords failed to cooperate. I slid to the floor, and began to sob silently.



Chapter Six, the final chapter, will be uploaded tomorrow. Stay tuned.

God Is Good

Thank you this lovely story......kindly tag me on you next story