His Ex Wife

It had been around three days since I had my last encounter with Scott, after which he had not stopped calling and texting; Scott was the impatient kind, not the kind who liked fighting for attention; if he wanted someone's attention, he had to have it at any cost.

But, for some reason, what happened that day between us and what I asked him to do: to divorce Anna...I just did not have the right feeling. For the least, I was not a home wrecker, the buried graves lied in the past, not to be disturbed. Even though Anna had wrecked mine, I had no intention to wreck her home; a husband, probably even children in the future- though it was a bit impossible to imagine given the fact that Scott hated children; who could know that better than me…

However, with Anna around, I would never be able get close to Scott again and that was the only thing that remained certain amongst all the uncertainties surrounding me. Anna being a sharp woman would never tolerate him to fall for me again.

In fact I wanted to speak to someone about this; in this situation at least, any ray of hope would bring back life to the dead leaf and I stood on the verge of losing it all again.

I picked up my phone and tried calling him again for the 10th time. In the last three days, Iyan had not picked up a single call of mine, instead, he only replied to my last missed call with a "Busy now. Will reach you as soon as I am free".

As I dialed his number, the phone rang again for a half minute and then reached voicemail. Exasperated, I cut his call and threw my phone on the bed. Maybe he was just busy after all. I desperately needed someone to talk to through this or being the weak individual with the plethora of feelings I possessed for the only man I had ever loved, all the emotions would surface again and destroy the rest of my life for good.

My phone buzzed again, like it had several times in the past few days since I last met Scott, with one more of his texts.

Divorced her! I’m coming to meet you now, tell me where are you

I sat down on the floor cross legged, my shoulders hunched in defeat and face twisted in disgust as I read his message. I couldn't do this all by myself though.

Suddenly I hated Scott for this even more, he didn't have even one ounce of loyalty for any one woman he had slept with in his life. More than that, I needed Iyan to talk about this, for him to reassure me that this was the right thing to do, even though I knew that it probably wasn't. Maybe he knew it too. I still wondered why he was so motivated to destroy Scott…he had probably been nothing more than a bully to him in college, but obviously, they did know each other from before I had even arrived in their lives.

Easier said than done- wanting to destroy someone's life!

Even though you had open wounds of the same injury being a prior victim yourself.

Scott Anderson calling…

I picked it up and feigning the sweetest tone possible, I spoke, “Yes Scott? How

sent the outfit for

have planned

Be ready,” he finished, totally ignoring my words and cut

on the bed but on

it was; the packaged fiery red dress with off shoulder sleeves and even a blind man could tell looking at how revealing it was meant to be, worn by any woman. With the dress, were red heels in a Louboutin

his way to get straight into my heart…or so he thought. For me however, it stood as clear as crystal that he was giving straight indications for what he wanted- all he

jerk. But I was determined to not let him have his way this time. Sometimes you should let the person who has

not even returning any of calls

the hell is Iyan anyway! I

belonged to soldiers at war during the 19th century.

Walton and Marie Antoinette, his lover; he had heard their love story a thousand times from her, a story of love, separation, pain and death…if only she knew

tombstone,

Mariella Lewis

1991-2008

lied unvisited for the last 10 years. But apart from a father who had not spared her even when she was alive, who else would have taken

had gathered some dust. Bending slightly, he brushed it off with his cold fingers and then slowly caressed her name. The winter wind blew stronger than ever at this time of the year and made a spooky hurling

around him, a tall wave of memories from the past had flooded his brain. He looked at her name, he had always admired her name, it reminded him of soothing sea, her first name Mariella translated into ‘Star of the Sea’ from Latin. And so she was, just like a star, shining and glowing, so beautiful that one could not

that day, neither