Vincent ‘Anne.’ I guess that’s her real name. It actually rang a bell. I remember pronouncing that name, and it must have meant so much to me because whenever I called it out, which I was doing often since that time with Arya in the kitchen, I felt a cacophony of emotions attack me. There was peace, followed by fear, then agitation, trepidation, fury, and what have you? It was strange. Her name held so much power, yet I couldn’t still remember. It was frustrating! “Have you booked the tickets, Vin?” mum asked from where she sat on the couch. She’d come around right after Arya left the house. Arya has been giving me the silent treatment ever since I mistakenly called her the name that tormented my subconscious, the day before. “Yes, mum,” I replied grudgingly from the dining table where I was getting some reading done. “Have you heard from dad?” I asked. “No, hun, but don’t you worry, he would be available for the wedding. I just received his clothes from his tailor. We’ll be tr

Andrew My brother has been ignoring me ever since I took him to see Anne a day ago. I don’t know what he was thinking, but for him to be acting this way, his thoughts weren’t in our favor. Anne had gone there to meet with him that same day while I’d gone straight to the studio. I was going to call Anne and ask how it transpired, but we finished so late at night and I was so exhausted that I passed out immediately my head touched my pillow back at our family house. The next day, I called Anne, but she didn’t answer. I called Vincent, but he, too, ignored my calls. So, after my recording session, I’d gone to Vincent’s but when I saw my mum’s car parked in front of the house, I made a U-turn and headed for Anne’s apartment instead. It was a sunny afternoon. I got there and met her coiled up on her bed, crying her eyes out once again. Racheal and Pam were there trying to make her eat her food. “You’ll make Rachael miss her doctor’s appointment, Anne,” Pam had warned. That was the only

Anne I carefully carried sleeping Lucia and placed her on the duplicate cot in my mum’s room. I slowly and noiselessly stepped back and out of a room, throwing a glance at my mum, who was snoring lightly on her bed. I then switched off the light and shut the door behind me. Finally, the time has come. I made sure I locked all the doors for the night before heading to my room. Pamela had come earlier and suggested staying with me till Andrew comes or calls. Andrew must have called her to come. Well, I refused all her persistence and almost got angry at her stubbornness. She’d grudgingly accepted to leave. In my room, I took out a pen and scribbled down a few thoughts of mine. I hadn’t time to write a full epistle because I was hurting badly. If I did have the time, I would have written long notes to every one of the people I know who would be hurt by my actions. I’d wanted to live for Lucia, but seeing her face, eyes and long hair reminded me so much of him. One would think that wo

Vincent Arya made it sound like I had the best of times with her. She may be right because the feelings I had for her couldn’t have been created by mere moments. We must have gone through thick and thin for me to have realized what I had and cherish it. Arya made me to almost desire to stay back and savage the little I could from all we had left. I couldn’t. Because I was hurt. I lost my memory. I couldn’t remember any of my time with her, or even her face, yet I couldn’t get myself to make love to any other woman. She had all the knowledge. She knew all the bits and pieces of our trials and tribulations, but the moment I step out of the picture, she finds solace in the arms of my brother. Now, she has a baby for him. I couldn’t live with that. Her love for me didn’t nearly match the way I felt for her. I couldn’t fight when she’d already given up a year ago. Why didn’t she come after me? Why didn’t she make plans to make me remember slowly? She only comfortably devised plans

Anne I felt a hand slip into my PJs and began walking its magic there. A moan escaped my lips as sensual pressure built in my core. I was lying on our king-sized bed with white sheets and a duvet, in our large bedroom. I’m too sleepy or maybe lazy to describe it. Just take this though, the walls are white. The side tables holding up the bedside lamps are also white but with golden designs along the edges, matching that of the bed frame, which has extra huge golden spirals on the tall headrest just above my pillow. By the corner, a long wooden cabinet that holds several drawers is attached to the wall. On top of the cabinet are different figurines and sculptures, then close to it is a magnificent white dressing table that houses my very few beauty products, and an equally magnificent mirror with the same golden design on its edges. There are two walk-in closets on opposite sides of the room. One is for Vincent and the other, mine. A second door closer to my closet lead to the bathroo