𝐄𝐙𝐄𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐋 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

10

EZEKIEL:

"Can I have her number?" I asked as soon as Suzette answered the door to her hotel room. She didn't invite me in; instead, she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, blocking my way. Her stance, firm and unmoving, made the tension in my chest tighten.

“Ezekiel,” she sighed, shaking her head with a hint of disdain. “I don't want to be Akira’s enemy, so there's no way I'm giving you her number.”

“Please, Suzette,” I insisted, trying to keep my voice steady, though desperation was creeping in.

“No,” she replied, her tone final. “If I’d known she'd fall for your charm that quickly, I never would have introduced her to you last night. Now, she’s just another one of your… conquests. You know, I thought about being one of them myself once, but after seeing what happened this morning? I’m glad I never followed through.”

“She got the wrong idea this morning,” I said, nearly pleading now. “You were just—"

“Just what, Ezekiel?” Suzette cut me off, her gaze hardening. “Standing there with my arms around you? Whispering in your ear? Please. What was she supposed to think?” She crossed her arms tighter, then sighed. “Honestly, I’m relieved she misread the situation. Now, she won’t have to deal with the heartache you bring. So, no, Ezekiel. No number, no explanations, no more. Akira deserves better than getting tangled up with someone like you.”

“Suzette, you don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand,” she snapped. “She’s my friend, Ezekiel. My friend. And I won’t let you play with her feelings. So, as far as I’m concerned, this is the end of it. Goodbye, Ezekiel.”

Before I could say another word, she stepped back and shut the door firmly in my face, leaving me staring at the closed door.

I stormed down to the lobby, frustration simmering beneath my calm exterior. I couldn't shake the regret gnawing at me—why hadn’t I stayed? If I’d been there when Akira woke up, she wouldn’t have found me with Suzette. She wouldn’t have jumped to the worst possible conclusion.

But as I stepped into the lobby, my thoughts were quickly interrupted. Eyes turned toward me, some glancing subtly, others outright staring. And then, like clockwork, a small group of women moved in my direction. One, two, three—all with hips swaying, their smiles wide, eyes bright with interest.

“Hi, handsome,” they greeted, almost in unison, voices laced with flirtation.

I forced a tight smile, feeling a mix of irritation and resignation. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. But today, it felt more like a curse than anything remotely appealing. Just when I wanted to focus on the woman I couldn’t get out of my head, the attention of others only deepened my frustration.

With a polite nod, I brushed past them, wishing that, for once, this so-called “charm” of mine didn’t create so many complications. All it seemed to do was push away the one person I actually wanted close.

🤍🤍🤍

As I stepped out of the elevator, my eyes went straight to the lobby, and there he was—Ezekiel. His presence was unmistakable, that towering frame etched into my memory no matter how much I wished otherwise. He was standing in the middle of the lobby, surrounded by a group of women who seemed entirely enthralled, leaning in close, laughing, and casting flirtatious glances his way. Watching them, I felt a pang I couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was frustration or disappointment; maybe it was just anger at myself for letting someone like him get under my skin.

Forcing my gaze away, I took a breath and quickened my pace toward the reception desk, doing my best to make my checkout as brisk as possible. Every second felt like he might look up, spot me, and walk over with that easy confidence. I wasn’t ready for that, for the possibility that he’d make excuses or, worse, act like nothing happened at all.

As soon as I finished checking out, I spotted a taxi waiting at the curb. I gripped the handle of my luggage, relieved it was small enough to manage without much fuss. I quickly slid it into the backseat, climbed in, and shut the door. I couldn’t help but glance back through the window, just for a moment. Part of me wanted to see if he’d noticed I was gone, if he even realized that I was leaving—but the sight of him, still surrounded, still the center of attention, was enough to make me look away.

“Where to, Miss?” the driver asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“Just… the airport, please,” I replied, my voice steady though my mind was racing. As the taxi pulled away, a strange mix of emotions bubbled up inside. I felt free, but there was also a heaviness—like I was leaving something unfinished, or running away from a part of myself that had dared to hope, even if just for a fleeting moment.

Staring out the window, I watched the cityscape rush by, each building a reminder of how quickly things had spiraled. One night, and here I was, leaving behind whatever last night had been. Maybe I had been foolish to let my guard down, to believe, even for a moment, that he was someone different. I almost laughed at myself. What had I expected? Some sort of fairytale where he’d come after me, apologize, and we’d make sense of it all?

I sighed, pulling my phone out to check the time. Just a few hours before my flight. I should feel relieved to be going back, and yet there was an ache I couldn’t quite place.