Cheater.
1010 Words
My name is Larissa Weasley, a 27-year-old female architect.
I'm not a fan of introductions, but this one is necessary.
My fiancé, Aran Thomas, is a man I've always admired, a successful business person.
Today, we're at one of the annual meetings of the architecture firm we co-own.
I'm smiling because we've achieved things together that I never imagined in my life. Turns out, I'm not a complete disaster after all.
Paola, my best friend, sees me and approaches me through the crowd. We're in an event hall in one of the most prestigious skyscrapers in New York City.
"Larissa, thank goodness I found you. I've been looking for you for a while," she says, nervously cradling her wine glass.
"Everything okay, Paola?" I asked, slightly concerned as she looked a bit pale. "Is it about today's competition, right?"
"Yes, you know me too well," she replies, biting her lip. "I don't know if my sketch or rendering lived up to the expectations this time."
"You'll win for sure. You've done it for several years in a row," I encouraged her, though it stings a bit that I'm not in the spotlight at these annual competitions.
Still, seeing my best friend win brings me joy. It's my greatest consolation because her victory feels like my own. It makes me happy.
"Come on, Larissa. You're competing too, and you know you do extraordinary work. What greater competition is there?" she says, chuckling.
"Can I tell you a secret? I'm rooting for you," I tell her, to which she just rolls her eyes.
"And I bet today's your win!" she exclaims with great excitement, as if it's certain.
I just shook my head, a small smile on my juicy lips.
After the fourth glass of wine and the competition results were, as in previous years, Paola emerges victorious. I decide it's time to leave.
I've lost track of time, but I know I need to find Aran, my fiancé, to go home. I don't feel well tonight, despite having a decent alcohol tolerance.
Amidst the crowd, with a DJ who appeared out of nowhere and the venue dimly lit, akin to a party, I find Aran. Paola and several other architects are with him.
From that moment on, my eyes seemed to want to close on their own, as if I were sleepy.
I don't remember anything until now.
I woke up again, gradually opening my eyes.
I'm in the room I share with Aran, but he's not beside me.
I checked the digital clock on the nightstand; it was only 7 in the morning.
My head hurts, and everything in me is pounding.
My throat is dry, so I get out of bed and head to the kitchen to quench my thirst with the vital liquid.
I don't mind being barefoot; the floor is always spotless.
The only doubt in my mind is, where the hell is Aran? I look for him with a glaze, but I don't see him anywhere. That's weird.
Once I leave the room and take a few steps towards the stairs to go down, a particular sound at the end of the hallway leading to the bedrooms behind me stops me.
Is Aran here?
I hear a couple of voices, so I head towards that place, not too fast because my head is killing me. I'm in physical pain right now. I feel sick because of the alcohol in my system.
When my feet stop in front of the utility room, which is unoccupied because our maid is on vacation, I feel something strange in my chest, like a premonition. A strange feeling like never before.
My pulse accelerates for no apparent reason until I slowly open the door without making a sound.
My eyes can't believe what they saw at that moment. Unbelievable what they are capable of.
Aran and Paola are in the same bed.
Without clothes.
I gulped forcefully, placing a hand over my mouth to stifle a scream of shock.
I almost stumbled back a few steps. I'm so stunned by this.
I, who believed so much in them, find this kind of situation unthinkable.
I gather courage and approach again.
Paola is astride the man who calls himself my fiancé. He showers her neck with kisses that aim to be sensual.
"Do you like it, my love?" she asks, her voice feigning innocence.
Aran nods like a fool, seemingly mesmerized by her.
"I loved it, gorgeous. You always manage to please me in everything," he confesses, making my eyes fill with tears.
"I'm so glad, love. I don't want to share you with her anymore; I want you all to myself," Paola says, sounding pitiful.
"You know we only have a short time to see each other, beautiful, though I also want to end all of this," Aran replies.
"What's holding us back then? Let's get married right now, my love! We can be very happy together! Without her in the plans," Paola exclaims, trying to convince her fiancé.
To that man to whom I gave five years of my life.
Tears streamed down my cheeks heavily and silently.
"What about Larissa?" he asks.
"Nothing, my love. You know her father spoke with me. She'll marry Bastian Dupont, no way out. She's practically sold!—she says, bursting into laughter— Poor thing has no idea!"
"That's true, my dear girl... So let's get married tonight! But it has to be our secret," he tells her quite happily, as if he's unaffected by all the hurtful comments the harpy Paola unleashed.
"Well... at least legally, you'll be mine," Paola exclaims, as if in ecstasy. "Besides, I can keep all the sketches she makes from now on, right? You'll give them all to me, won't you, love?"
Paola jumps on Aran, making him passionately kiss her.
"I'll give you everything, my beautiful queen. Anything you ask for," he says.
I don't need to hear another word to know that this pair deserves nothing but suffering.
I will make them pay for everything.
- Writer
