Dear Laura 2

Chapter 2

About three weeks later, Emma helped me land a position as an administrator and receptionist at the school where she taught. In case the timeline confuses you, at this time I was seven weeks pregnant and fortunately, I was not showing yet because Abdul still had no freaking idea that there was a bun in my oven. Neither did Emma.

Abdul came over every other day, some days to sleep over. We were still enjoying the honeymoon phase and we were still not officially a couple. To some extent, I was okay with it. The fact that I could text him first meant that we were practically exclusive so who the heck cares about some lousy title? I didn't. The man knew romance like the back of his hand. He did it all; the flowers, notes, pop ups, massages, you name it. If it was romantic, Abdul did it. I felt myself falling deeper and deeper in love with him.

If that was his way of making it up to me for his trashy behaviour from since I met him, I was sold. I loved him with my every being. I loved him more than the word itself. The words to describe the love I had for that man have not been discovered yet. To make it even better, he confessed those three words to me too. So, I repeat, who the heck needs that lousy title?

My life was finally great. Work was great. I had a good friend. Most importantly, my relationship or whatever it was, was great.

On Friday evening, Emma and I decided to go to the club to blow off some steam after a crazy week at work. I was going there for the music and not the alcohol, obvi. I did not tell Abdul my whereabouts because he was usually out of town on Fridays. I also did not need to report to him because I also did not know his every social move. He only updated me on work stuff.

Emma helped me pick my outfit. We went with the blue sequin, bodycon dress that laid just below my butt and the black stilettos that Abdul bought for me a week ago. I loved how good everything looked on me. I put on some light make up and tied my hair in a slick low bun.

"How do I look?" I came out to show Emma who was sitting on the couch.

"Girl? I think it's getting hot in here. Oh no, it's just you." That was the confidence booster that I needed. I twirled for her as she instructed.

We then went to her apartment where she also got dressed. She wore a longer dress than mine because she was "a married woman and a mother. I must look the part." Her words not mine. She drove us to the club The Third Place, just a few minutes from our apartment building.

We slipped in among the crowd, then stood in line for the bar. Since Emma was still not aware of my pregnancy status, I whispered to the bartender to make mine a mocktail. Once we got our drinks, we were ready to move to the music.

We danced like it was our last night on earth. My head thrashed so violently that my brain shut down for a bit as the music moved me like a muppet on strings. My skin was drenched in sweat, some of which was not even mine. I was not even considering how gross that was, I was just letting myself enjoy and be carefree. For once in my adult life, I was genuinely happy, and I was celebrating that.

As I was dancing, some pervert of an old man came behind me, with the assumption that I would grind on him. As single as I was, the thought of doing that to a man that wasn't Abdul made me feel sick to my stomach.

You know what other thing sucked about being pregnant? Sometimes just the thought of being sick, made you sick. I instantly felt bile rising up my throat and I have no idea how, but I managed to sieve through that massive amount of people and storm to the bathroom. I assured Emma with a thumbs up that I would be fine just before I jolted out of there.

The line to the bathroom was so long, I didn't make it to a toilet bowl. Instead, I poured my guts out on a bouncer's shoes.

"Sorry." I said just before going again.

Everything that I had eaten on that day was visible on the man's shoes. The frustration on his face was hard to miss. He called his co-worker to cover him while he went to clean up. I asked the man next to me for tissue if he had any. To my misfortune, it was the pervert from earlier. Out of desperation, I took the tissue and wiped my mouth.

"You're feeling okay?" He asked, his voice sounding like he smoked a hundred cigarettes a day.

"I'm alright." I sheepishly smiled, too embarrassed to say or do anything else. "Thank you." I said, signalling to the tissue he had given me.

"It's a pleasure. Mind if I got your number?" He attempted to flirt. I contemplated on how rude it would be to turn him down after he had just helped me. But really, I did not want to.

But before I could say anything, I felt a strong grip on my hand and the owner of the hand pulled me towards the exit. The grip on my hand hurt but I could not break free. It was the same wrist that Abdul sprained the last time. I could not see who it was because it was dark, and he had his back facing me.

"Who the heck do you think you are pulling me like that?" Instead of whining, I decided to fight whoever it was.

When we got outside, he turned around. His skin glowed as it was illuminated by the light above. It was Abdul. Gosh he was so beautiful. My tough girl act was suddenly nowhere to be found. Now that I knew it was him, all I did was conform, instantly letting him know that he had the power, and I was nothing. He finally let my wrist go and I started massaging it, praying that it was not sprained again.

He narrowed his eyes and gave me a death glare. He was Hulk and I was Ant Man in his tiny form. We were silent, only exchanging glances. The tense air felt suffocating. His jaw clenched and he was still glaring at me with the same intensity. I bit the inside of my mouth as I prepared myself for whatever laid ahead.

I was mad that he had just practically yanked my hand off and he was mad for whatever reason he was mad. Call it games of anger. It had been exactly three weeks and five days since I last pissed him off. We had been good. I could not possibly think of what I had done to get him to hurt me like that.

"What are you doing here?" I managed to say with a weak voice, still making the power dynamic clear.

"What am I doing here? What the heck are you doing here Mia? I was so excited to surprise you with a bouquet and a nice home cooked meal only to find that you are not home. And not only were you not home, you're at a freaking club, flaunting your damn ass for the whole world to see like a typical slut. Not to mention the fact that you're grinding on a stranger that's old enough to be your father. You were also flirting with him for fucks sake Mia! What are you even wearing, did your self-respect suddenly get lost? You should be ashamed of yourself and your behaviour."

I felt a huge lump in my throat as Abdul threw daggers of insults to my heart. It must have been the hormones because tears suddenly made their way down my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away, attempting not to look weak. My vocal cords were failing me, breaking every time I tried to open my mouth. I decided to just keep shut and listen to him instead. Listen to him tear me limb from limb with his vile words.

I had only seen glimpses of this anger. It usually never lasted for more than five seconds. On that particular day, he ranted until I felt ringing in my ears. I just could not take hearing his vile words anymore. I thought we were past that phase, I thought he did not hate me anymore. I thought things would be different because he uttered the three special words. I thought it meant that he would never deliberately cause me pain. I thought things would be different with Hope not in the picture anymore.

"Get in the fucking car." His voice sounded faint as it drowned in the ringing my ears made.

He walked towards the car, leaving me there. I did not move. I couldn't. It was like my limbs had forgotten how to. Or that my brain had shut down and could not give commands to my joints anymore. I stood there and blankly stared at him as he stomped towards his white Porche 911 S/T.

"I said get in the car Mia!" He raised his voice at me, and my body was still unfazed. After watching me and assuming I was deliberately rebelling, he stomped towards me and grabbed my injured wrist the same way he did in the club. My joints cooperated and stomped to the car with him, where he opened the door for me and forced me into the car. Even my joints knew he had the power.

When he got into the car, he sped out of the there like he was being chased. The ride home was silent, my sniffles and the engine sounds being the only sounds audible.