His Ex Wife

Chapter 8: Devils from the Past

It had been around three days since I had my last encounter with Scott, after which he had not stopped calling and texting; Scott was the impatient kind, not the kind who liked fighting for attention; if he wanted someone's attention, he had to have it at any cost.

But, for some reason, what happened that day between us and what I asked him to do: to divorce Anna...I just did not have the right feeling. For the least, I was not a home wrecker, the buried graves lied in the past, not to be disturbed. Even though Anna had wrecked mine, I had no intention to wreck her home; a husband, probably even children in the future- though it was a bit impossible to imagine given the fact that Scott hated children; who could know that better than me…

However, with Anna around, I would never be able get close to Scott again and that was the only thing that remained certain amongst all the uncertainties surrounding me. Anna being a sharp woman would never tolerate him to fall for me again.

In fact I wanted to speak to someone about this; in this situation at least, any ray of hope would bring back life to the dead leaf and I stood on the verge of losing it all again.

I picked up my phone and tried calling him again for the 10th time. In the last three days, Iyan had not picked up a single call of mine, instead, he only replied to my last missed call with a "Busy now. Will reach you as soon as I am free".

As I dialed his number, the phone rang again for a half minute and then reached voicemail. Exasperated, I cut his call and threw my phone on the bed. Maybe he was just busy after all. I desperately needed someone to talk to through this or being the weak individual with the plethora of feelings I possessed for the only man I had ever loved, all the emotions would surface again and destroy the rest of my life for good.

My phone buzzed again, like it had several times in the past few days since I last met Scott, with one more of his texts.

Divorced her! I’m coming to meet you now, tell me where are you

I sat down on the floor cross legged, my shoulders hunched in defeat and face twisted in disgust as I read his message. I couldn't do this all by myself though.

Suddenly I hated Scott for this even more, he didn't have even one ounce of loyalty for any one woman he had slept with in his life. More than that, I needed Iyan to talk about this, for him to reassure me that this was the right thing to do, even though I knew that it probably wasn't. Maybe he knew it too. I still wondered why he was so motivated to destroy Scott…he had probably been nothing more than a bully to him in college, but obviously, they did know each other from before I had even arrived in their lives.

Easier said than done- wanting to destroy someone's life!

Even though you had open wounds of the same injury being a prior victim yourself.

Scott Anderson calling…

My phone buzzed constantly in my bed. Irritated, I picked it up and feigning the sweetest tone possible, I spoke, “Yes Scott? How are you?”

“It’s done, we’re meeting for dinner tonight at the Hungarian Plaza Hotel, I had you sent the outfit for tonight, the most expensive dress I could find for the most gorgeous woman in the world.”

“But I have planned a-”

“I’ll pick you up at 8. Be ready,” he finished, totally ignoring my words and cut the call.

This time I threw my phone harder and not on the bed but on the floor! I did not even want to go out with him…

My doorbell rang and as I opened the door, there it was; the packaged fiery red dress with off shoulder sleeves and even a blind man could tell looking at how revealing it was meant to be, worn by any woman. With the dress, were red heels in a Louboutin Box.

By sending me all this, Scott was paving his way to get straight into my heart…or so he thought. For me however, it stood as clear as crystal that he was giving straight indications for what he wanted- all he had was just a lust that remained insatiable even if it cost to the extent of destroying lives. Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

Filthy minded jerk. But I was determined to not let him have his way this time. Sometimes you should let the person who has hurt you have a taste of his own medicine.

I looked at my phone again, he was not even returning any of calls with at least a text now.

Where the hell is Iyan anyway! I vented mentally.

Iyan stood still in the graveyard, there was no one else apart from him because the majority of the tombs that lied here had once belonged to soldiers at war during the 19th century. The graveyard was found at the heart of an alienated village in the west coast of Italy.

She was buried right here, next to the soldier Tom Walton and Marie Antoinette, his lover; he had heard their love story a thousand times from her, a story of love, separation, pain and death…if only she knew what she was heading for by asking so much.

On her tombstone, it read:

Mariella Lewis

1991-2008

It was actually the first time when Iyan had come back to Italy to visit her since that day; her grave had lied unvisited for the last 10 years. But apart from a father who had not spared her even when she was

alive, who else would have taken the pain to come visit her dead…

Iyan stood still, looking at her name, it had gathered some dust. Bending slightly, he brushed it off with his cold fingers and then slowly caressed her name. The winter wind blew stronger than ever at this time of the year and made a spooky hurling sound.

But Iyan was long lost in thought to notice anything around him, a tall wave of memories from the past had flooded his brain. He looked at her name, he had always admired her name, it reminded him of soothing sea, her first name Mariella translated into ‘Star of the Sea’ from Latin. And so she was, just like a star, shining and glowing, so beautiful that one could not even take his eyes off of her once they saw her. That was probably the exact case of how it had gone by the day she had set foot in their high school 12 years ago.

No one could forget that day, neither Iyan nor Scott.

Because both had fallen in love with the same girl and right when they first saw her- it was love at first sight, but the story behind that first sight had been different for both of them.

One brother saw vulnerability and fragility embedded with beauty and the other saw sadness and pain, to which his attraction had been almost, very instantly, inexplicable.

Needless to say, Iyan was still in love with her. Getting over her was not an option for him but more than that, it was impossible for him. He caressed her name again once and spoke,

“It’s going to be equal now Mariella, I’ll avenge Scott for everything he has done to you! He will pay for what he has done to you, I’ll make sure of that…” he spoke through gritted teeth, spitting venom with every word he pronounced.

“If only you had come to me and not him…” a shadow of melancholy took over him but his proud smirk reminded him how Scott claimed victory over the death of an innocent girl, the only girl he loved.

His fists clenched as he thought about Scott but that made him think of Yvonne and the game he was pushing her in, a merciless game that had no place for the emotions of an innocent girl. Suddenly his heart softened as he her face crossed his clouded mind, Yvonne’s innocent eyes and her forehead always drawn taut with worry- it was so hard to see her smile recently, he kind of missed her laugh from college days. They would sit for hours and just laugh at the most irrelevant things around and more than Yvonne herself, he had always felt that he was with his Mariella, that in the end, she was with him and she was happy.

It was too fictitious to imagine because Yvonne and Mariella were both different, even that face that reminded him of Mariella was gone now and though it confused his technical mindset, there was something about Yvonne that made the corners of his stone-like heart melt and feel.

Even now, it had been the same thing. It made him guilty and resentful in his own mind despite Scott being the villain -in this story according to him- that he was pushing someone as innocent as Yvonne as his pawn to fulfill his selfish motives.

“I can’t be weak now, not for you Mariella, if only you knew I would have done anything for you back then, had you just told me everything. I would still do anything for you, even if that remains at the cost of an innocent or two.” He finished and got up straight to leave.

For the last time he saw her name and imagined her sad face, he yearned to bury her in his arms one last time, to tell her that he was incomplete and shattered after her death, that he was living as a lifeless man for the past 12 years, more empty than he had been before he met her.

Small beads of tears started forming at the corner of his eyes and pain, craving, longing, regret all hit at once like an unexpected punch in the gut and he turned his back and walked straight out of the

cemetery, not to look back again.

The winter wind howled with more rigor this time but he was determined not to stop; he knew that if he would stop now, he would melt, tears symbolized weakness and he was done being weak this time.

It was now time to deal with the living evil.