The Rich Life

16

I pressed my lips into a thin line, tears threatening to spill over. My highly enlightened month of being with Halima was over. And I was back in this cruel, empty house with Adam about to walk in any minute. He didn't even bother calling to explain himself. Which is going to make everything ten time's worse.

The door clicked open suddenly and I skulked away to the library. I had my bags packed so I'd leave the house, maybe stay in a hotel?

I couldn't go back to the house. Anthony was there...

I was getting ready for the breakup. I heard him calling my name, his deep voice resonating through the walls. I stayed silent, flipping through a book impatiently. Who gives a fuck about Aristotle? Adam's footsteps receded, he was probably searching for me somewhere, maybe in the kitchen. His footsteps got louder as they came to the library. I held my breath for five eternally long seconds when he found me.

"I missed you, Amara," He said, "Why didn't you call me?"

I threw all the glossy magazines which had his face glazed on the front with Bija. Vogue, Glamour, Cosmopolitan, Marie Claire. They all fluttered around him as they floated to the floor. I was shaking with rage. But the kind that makes you cry if you try to argue.

"I thought you were too busy fucking your whores," I said, picking up the closest magazine and shoving it in his face, tiptoeing to try to reach him. Adam's face betrayed no emotion as he stared at it, his eyes squinting at the picture of his arm around her slender form. My heart was in my throat as I waited to hear his excuse.

"Jesus Amara. I thought you'd be smarter to realise to never trust the Paps? They twist things until you don't know what's real or fake anymore. If you'd hear me out then the true story is that Bija was being comforted as her boyfriend broke up with her. She's heartbroken, darling. I was being nice,"

"W...what?" I stammered. He brought out his phone as he showed me the article of the breakup between Bija and her rich Arab Oil Sheikh. That was dated a day before those pictures broke the internet. I truly was the psycho girlfriend. And Halima was right. For fuck's sake. He chuckled at my expression and sucked his cheek in before grabbing me the jaw, walking me backwards into the wall.

"The only supposed whore I fuck with is you. But jealousy on you is so fucking attractive right now," My mind went fuzzy as I heard those words. I had missed him so much, that I couldn't breathe without him. I blushed under his intimidating gaze. But I wasn't sure what to feel. I felt a sort of emptiness, knowing this cycle was going to continue over and over again until I go crazy and my insecurities would break our relationship.

This entire thing was going too fast and I felt I was trapped inside a glass box. Everyone was telling him what to do and what to say and telling me how I should feel, being with the most influential man in the world. In 6 month relationship, it has felt like a 3-year relationship. So I do the most rational thing I could do. Hug him, inhaling his woody musky scent. He wrapped his arms around me until I felt that sensation of falling.

"I was going to leave you," I told him, a chill flowing through my mouth, full of cold fury.

He pulled me closer, burying his face in my hair, "I wouldn't let you,"

"You couldn't stop me," It sounded forced when I said this. I had spent the last week at Halima's knowing exactly what my future in America held without Adam; A house, which I could not return to, a return to a lonely existence and a single loyal friend.

He moved from my hair to my ear, his lips leaving burning kisses behind. I wanted to be angry, to punish him but my body caved in, prickling in delight.