The Bridge|| Completed✓

4|•

Surprise! I know I said Tuesday but...it's Sunday! So I thought to treat you guys a little to an extra early third chapter. Here you go loves XD
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Mosọpẹ was not exactly sure why he agreed to the pesky woman's 'deal'. She had tried to box him into a corner by threatening to call the attention of the authorities.

If he really wanted to, he could take her by surprise and jump in before she could even comprehend what had taken place. Before she'd be able to rally round people to jump in after him to rescue him, there was a fair chance that he'd be gone by then.

But what if he wasn't? Fate hadn't ever been nice to him, so he wouldn't imagine he'd start being lucky at this crucial point. He was not naïve enough to think that things actually work that way.

After being cursed with a miserable existence, he couldn't even end it in peace. How pathetic, he thought.

Then again, he couldn't deny that he was curious to hear her make her case. Would she drop a few cliché lines and expect that he had been convinced? Or would she lecture him on what he had the right to do and what he did not? He wanted to find out. He knew that much.

He didn't like interruptions, especially not at important times like this, but he felt like he couldn't go on if he didn't listen to her. It was like a burden on his mind, forcing him to stop, and listen.

"I must admit that I'm curious as to what you think you could say to me that will possibly change my mind, because it's like you don't understand the level of resolution that someone prepared to end his life has. But since you want to try, who am I to stop you?" he said, with a mocking smirk. She probably could not see it, but that didn't matter much.

"So madam, go ahead. Convince me." Giving her the go-ahead flew out of his mouth, without him overthinking it. He really, really wanted to see where this would lead.

She stuttered for a few beats. It was quite amusing to watch for him, but he chose to keep quiet. Let her get her bearings and all.

"Okay," she finally started. "Well we can't converse for long in this position. Let's sit first."

As if on command, the overhead street light started to blink feverishly, casting a faint glow over the two of them. It was faint, but they could see each other better and make out the other person's facial expressions.

Why now! He thought the street light was not working in the first place. Guess he was wrong there, he thought bitterly.

She opened her shiny gold clutch, one that glittered in the darkness, and pulled out a long piece of cloth. Probably a scarf or something.

"Thankfully, I have my pashmina here with me, so we can lay it over the ground and sit on it," she explained, already laying it over the ground.

He would have been curious as to why she called it that name, had it not been that he had a high maintenance mother who only insisted on using the best. She would not stoop so low to use the cheap scarves, she used to say. She'd rather her scarves be cashmere, the ones that were called pashminas, so she'd be able to use them and not be ashamed among her fellow elites.

It had been all about appearances for her.

He shook his head slightly, as if to physically shake off the thoughts. It was weird that a simple little thing, like a cashmere scarf reminded him so much of his mother.

He did not want to think about her. The memories brought up a bitter taste in his mouth, and he tucked it as far back into his head as he could manage.

She sat on it and rested her back against the solid concrete holding the rails of the bridge. She removed her high heels and rubbed her feet with a satisfied mutter of, "That's much much better," from her.