REVENGE'S UNEXPECTED LOVE

A FRAGILE SHIELD AGAINST THE STORM

Max's rage momentarily flickers, dissolving into a brief expression of guilt and shame. However, this vulnerability is swiftly eclipsed by a resurgence of obstinate pride. His voice grows cold and accusatory. "You had no right to marry someone else without consulting me first. Those videos are fabrications—I had nothing to do with them. Let’s just erase them from your phone and try to move past this," he retorts, each word soaked in bitterness.

Ismarie stands her ground, her posture rigid with determination. Her voice is steady, embodying a quiet strength as she faces him squarely. "I had every right to make my decisions," she counters resolutely. "Do you really think I can’t tell reality from deception? Or are you so entangled in your own lies that you've lost sight of the truth? You made those videos with Liezel while indulging in your delusions. Don't dare deny it!" Her accusation hangs heavily in the air, a challenge that leaves no room for rebuttal.

Max's voice falters, his usual veneer of defiance crumbling into desperation. "It wasn't me, babe. Liezel... she made me do it. I promise you, I would never choose to do something like that. I love you so much. She coerced me!" His plea hangs in the air, feeble and pleading, as he reaches out tentatively, seeking absolution or perhaps a sliver of understanding. The turmoil within him is palpable, his facade now completely shattered, revealing the weakness beneath.

Ismarie's gaze hardens, hatred burning in her eyes as she stares at Max. The realization of her own blindness, of how deeply she had been deceived by love, sharpens the sting of betrayal. How could she not have seen the man he truly is? Her heart aches with the weight of her disillusionment, each word from Max only fueling the fire of her scorn.

Ismarie's voice rises, a crescendo of fury and disgust as she confronts Max. "I can't believe you're still trying to make me look like a fool. Listen here, and listen carefully. I am not stupid, nor did I sleep with my professor to get my medical degree. I worked day and night for it. I freaking earned it with hard work and dedication! Unlike you—an excuse of a man who runs crying to daddy every time he faces a little adversity in the company handed to you out of courtesy for having a stupid son!" Her words slice through the air, definitive and sharp, leaving no room for doubt or denial.

"That wasn't me who told her to say those things; I'm really telling the truth," Max pleads, his voice breaking as a tear nearly escapes his eyes. His expression is one of raw desperation, seeking to claw back some semblance of credibility in the face of his unraveling lies.

"If it wasn't you, then what did you do when she said those things about me? About mother? The nerve to bring her name into that disgusting s**t! Oh, and guess what! She never even liked you—and that says a lot because she likes everyone. She saw right through your facade!" Ismarie's voice trembles with a mixture of grief and rage, each word cutting deeper as she confronts Max with the harsh truths her mother had seen all along.

Ismarie's words strike Max deeply, wounding him more than he expects. The mention of her mother, coupled with the raw honesty of her observations, feels like a sharp blow to his ego. He flinches visibly, the impact of her words settling like a weight on his shoulders, leaving him momentarily speechless and profoundly shaken.

Ismarie's fury reaches a fever pitch, her voice crackling with raw energy as she lashes out at Max. "I can't believe the things I let you get away with. I should have known all along that you think with your d**k when you objectified Maya, saying her body was 'good for Hollywood'—stupid Hollywood! You're not just a fake; you're an abomination, the worst forgery of a human being imaginable!" Her words slice through the air like daggers, each one punctuated by a forceful jab of her finger against Max's chest. With every touch, her disdain is palpable, driving her point home with physical and verbal blows that leave Max stumbling backward, his face a mask of shock and hurt as he absorbs the impact of her scorn. The room seems to pulse with the intensity of her anger, the tension palpable as Ismarie stands defiant, her breath heavy, her resolve unyielding.

Max attempts to regain control, his voice strained with a feigned calm. "You sound angry. I'll give you some time to think and calm down. You always say things you don't mean when you're angry," he suggests, trying to diffuse the tension. His words are carefully measured, intended to seem reasonable but tinged with an underlying attempt to undermine her feelings.

Ismarie's eyes blaze with fury as she locks her gaze on Max, her breaths shallow and rapid. "You think giving me 'time to calm down' will fix this? You always dismiss my feelings, saying I don't mean what I say when I'm angry," she hisses, the urge to lash out physically almost overpowering her restraint. Her voice is a low growl, each word laced with venom as she fights to keep her composure.

Max pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts before speaking again with calculated affection. "Yes. I will see you again, my Ismar," he murmurs, using the intimate nickname from a time when their love had been untainted and full of promise.

The moment the endearment slips from Max's lips, Ismarie recoils as if struck. She spits out saliva in disgust, her actions speaking volumes about her feelings towards the nickname that once symbolized their closeness. Now, it only serves as a bitter reminder of how far they have fallen.

Max's shock is palpable as he stares, first at Ismarie, then at the saliva on the ground in front of him, his face contorting with disgust. His attempt to reconnect through an affectionate nickname has backfired spectacularly, widening the rift between them. His presence here, driven by a fading thread of love for Ismarie, now seems like a grave mistake.

The debacle with Liezel torments him deeply. After their reckless liaison, he had fallen into a restless sleep, unaware of the unfolding disaster. Awakening to the nightmare of the videos already sent—a calculated move by Liezel—had left him reeling.

Her image, glaring defiantly from the screen as the videos disseminated, was a stark reminder of his poor judgment.

This grievous error, now exposed, hangs heavily between them, a stark testament to the consequences of his actions and the erosion of trust that may never be rebuilt.

"See you soon," Max declares, his voice steady with a newfound resolve as he turns to leave.

His determination is clear—he plans to earn Ismarie's forgiveness, not just as a means to amend but with the ambition that she will eventually beg him to marry her.

With each step he takes, his resolve hardens, driven by the dual forces of regret and a desire to reclaim a future he still envisions with her.

Ismarie's glare intensifies as she watches Max's retreating figure.

Her mind races with dark thoughts of revenge, imagining how satisfying it would be to stab him in the back, quite literally, as a brutal repayment for his betrayals.

The temptation to act on this visceral impulse is almost overpowering, but the absence of a knife nearby abruptly snaps her back to reality.

As Max walks away, Ismarie's frustration boils over. She rips off her shoes and hurls them with all her might. One shoe whistles through the air, striking Max squarely at the back of his head. The sudden impact causes him to stumble forward, a sharp reminder of Ismarie's rage and her refusal to be dismissed or underestimated. Her scream of frustration echoes through the room, a raw outburst of all the emotions she's been forced to contain.

As Max stumbles out, still reeling from the unexpected blow, he passes Sean in the hallway. The air between them crackles with tension, their glares loaded with unspoken accusations and mutual disdain. Neither man says a word; the silence speaks volumes, each fraught with worry and unresolved issues that hang heavily in the air as they part ways.

"Hey, is everything alright? You've been here for a while; I just got worried," Sean says with concern, kneeling next to Ismarie. She is on all fours, gasping for breath, her entire body shaking as she tries to regain her composure.

His voice is gentle, attempting to pierce the veil of her distress with a touch of kindness, as he offers her a moment of support in the chaotic aftermath of her confrontation with Max.

"I will be fine," Ismarie murmurs, her voice a shaky whisper that seems directed more at reassuring herself than responding to Sean. Her breaths are slow and deliberate as she attempts to steady her nerves, gathering the shards of her composure while anchored on the floor. The affirmation is a fragile shield against the storm of emotions still raging within her.