Leah's POV
A few weeks had passed, but nothing healed inside me.
Not from what I saw between Ansel and Vanessa.
Not from what I did with Ace.
The image of Ansel and Vanessa on the bed, with his hands on her and her lips on his neck. Still haunts me . And Ace...what happened between us in that office, the way his body claimed mine, the heat, the ache, the absolute no regret I got from doing it, both lived inside me like fire I couldn't just put out.
They were both etched into my memory.
Stayed there.
And yet, here I was, smiling.
Pretending.
I played the role of the sweet sister, the sweet loyal bridesmaid, the shoulder for Vanessa to cry on. I smiled when Vanessa talked about flower arrangements and the seating charts. I nodded my head when she asked my opinion about cakes.
She still had her wedding to plan.
And I? I still had to act like I hadn't fucked her fiancé.
I stood beside Vanessa in the boutique's dressing room, re-adjusting the tiny strap on her shoulder as she turned in front of the mirror. The gown sticker to her body like it was silk poured over skin, it fitted her form from the bust down to her hips, then flowing into a shimmering train.
The neckline was formed into a long V, just enough to tease anyone without crossing the line, and sheer mesh covered the open back, bathed with tiny pearls. The dress was bold and elegant, but yet, still daring. A dress that whispered in class.
"It's stunning," I breathed, stepping back and taking the full picture of the cloth. "You look like a dream, V."
She turned, the skirt following her movements, softly around her legs. "You think so? I was worried it might be a little too…..much."
"No," I said, adjusting the straps once more. "It's sexy, but still bridal. It's you."
I smiled and she smiled.
But I saw through her smile, just behind her eyes.
She stared a little too long. Her smile stayed, but her gaze was distant from what she seemed to focus on and I knew right away…..she was still carrying it. The guilt. The shame. The weight of what I saw that day.
She thought I didn't notice the guilt she felt.
But I did.
Even after I told her I forgave her, even after I looked her in the eye and lied about forgiving her, she still hadn't let it go. And maybe it all twisted in her because I didn't just forgive her. I stayed. I helped her. I continued supporting her every way like nothing had happened between the two of us.
That was what ate at her the most.
That I was still here, smiling and helping her into her dress. Holding her train. Playing the perfect sister.
She couldn't understand it.
And maybe that's why she couldn't stop looking at me like that.
Ace was there with us.
Vanessa had dragged him along to the boutique, insisting she needed another person's opinion, even though everyone knew she had already made up her mind about the dress. He sat just behind her, comfortable in one of the cushioned seats, looking like he had better things to do other than sitting and watching his fiance put on nice clothes.
But he wasn't watching her
Not at Vanessa.
Not at the bright gown that sucked her body.
Not at the way she turned for him, asking, "What do you think, babe?"
He was looking at me.
Like I was an artwork, one that he couldn't touch.
I had caught him too many times already, those dark eyes focusing on me with hunger. Lust.
At some point he didn't even bother hiding it anymore.
He looked at me like he already knew my body, definitely, because he did and Vanessa, sweet, clueless Vanessa, who was too wrapped up in her dress and couldn't see what was right in front of her.
She had no idea.
Just as I turned, catching Ace's unashamed gaze again, my phone beeped.
A text.
I pulled it out and checked the screen.
Ansel.
He wanted to talk.
I rolled my eyes so hard anyone could notice it.
Of course he did, of course he wanted to talk.
I didn't hesitate. I typed out a reply and sent it back instantly, the corner of my lip raising with something between amusement and cruelty.
Sure. Let's talk.
It didn't matter what he wanted to say. Didn't matter how many sweet words he had or he's carefully crafted words he had plan to say. He would never have me back.
But I would give him what he wanted. The false hope, something to hold onto.
We were done with the dress hunting, finally.
Vanessa couldn't stop talking about the boutique experience the entire ride, already planning her next outing. Meanwhile, Ace remained quiet, a heavy silence and I could see it in his eyes.
He didn't want me to leave.
He didn't know where I was going, but he knew it wasn't with them. And that made him look…..sad and confused.
I stepped out of the car and made my way to Ansel's place. I had not even raised my hand to knock when the door opened fast.
Too fast.
Like he had been watching me from the window, like he had been waiting on the door knob for that knock.
"Leah," he breathed, soft and careful.
I smiled and stepped nside without waiting for permission, just like I always did. Like I still owned some part of this place, some part of him.
"You said you wanted to talk?" I asked, casually reaching for a cup of coffee on the table, his cup of coffee. Already cold. My fingers grabbed it as I stared at him.
"I just…" Ansel started, his voice low and his eyes looking deep into mine. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything. What I did…how I hurt you."
I gave him a soft smile, lifting the cup slightly. "It's alright, Ansel. Really. I've told you that already."
But he didn't buy it.
His eyes narrowed a little, like he was trying to read my face. "No, No, it's not. You're just saying that."
I sipped from the cold coffee and gave a light shrug. "I am not."
He moved closer.
Too close.
I saw it in his eyes, the way they moved to my lips. Oh no. Not this.
Then it happened, he leaned in and kissed me.
His lips were warm. My response was delayed, a bit held back and maybe, awkward. My lips moved, but they felt like they didn't belong to me. I kissed him back because I had to. Because if I moved away, he would suspect everything.
When he pulled away, a string of saliva still connected us. His voice was breathless and still desperate.
"Prove it to me, Leah," he whispered. "Prove to me you're not still mad."
He leaned in again, pressing his mouth to mine with more hunger. I felt it, my own resistance. The way my hands didn't move, the way my body tensed under every of his touch.
I didn't want this.
But I let it happen.
We both found our way to the room. His hands found my breasts, fingers slipping under the edge of my top. He caressed them like he was trying to prove to me he's still, Ansel. Slowly, he tossed my shirt away, leaving only my bra behind. I mimicked he's action, removing his shirt too.
He pulled down my skirt. Then my underwear.
And then he was inside me.
His mom's whispered against my ear, his breath were hot and his movements steady. But I felt nothing. No spark. No ache. No hunger. Just complete emptiness.
It had lost its taste.
It wasn't the same anymore, certainly not coming from him.
But I had to keep pretending.
With each thrust, I moaned. Soft and practiced sounds.
With each "I love you" he whispered, I answered,
"Me too."
Lie after lie, moan after moan, I Just to keep the illusion alive.
He came not long after, moaning loudly into my neck as he fell to the warmth of my body, to the sweetness of my flesh.
He rolled over, breathing heavy and tired, just after one round, his arm went lazily over his chest. Within minutes, he was asleep, satisfied, content, completely unaware of the emptiness that I still felt from all of it.
I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, clearly not satisfied from it. I wasn't tired. I had not enjoyed a moment of what just happened. My body ached, not from pleasure, but from being tensed.
I rolled out of bed quietly, the sheets falling from my waist. I found my underwear on the floor and slid into it.
I reached for my bra….
And that's when I saw it.
His phone on the nightstand, lying, facing up.
I set my bra to the side, letting the cool air kiss my bare skin. My hand slowly reached for his phone.
I typed in the password. My name.
Leah.
Incorrect.
My brows came together.
What?
I tried again and slower this time. Still incorrect.
He changed it?
Something twisted in me. Anger. I stared at the screen for a while.
Then, out of curiosity, I typed her name.
Vanessa.
The phone unlocked.
My stomach turned.
Without wasting another second, I began scrolling, Messages, text, call logs and then I saw them, pictures that made my skin crawl. Her nudes. Sent willingly. Smiling. Posed, giving him the best view she could think of, clearly showing her touching herself or clearly showing him the insides.
Their texts were filled with sick sweet promises and pet names. Like I had never existed. Like we had never happened.
But I kept going.
I screenshotted everything. Saved the voice notes. Captured the worst of the worst and then sent them quietly to myself, no sound, no trace.
No matter how disgusting it felt to have these on my phone, I just had to.
Because in the end, they would be useful.
And I would make sure they were.