Page 24 of Love is So Mean

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Page 24 of Love is So Mean

He smirks and shakes his head. “Speaking of flats…” he lets the statement float between us while he stares at my shoes.

“This outfit does not speak flats. My designer would go to an early grave, if ever.” Before Enrique could respond, I lift my hand gesturing to the room of people. “Shall we go and see if what you signed off on is making sense now?”

“Wait, what’s with the flats? Or is this another question that can’t be answered,” Emily asks sardonically.

Enrique’s eyes get big as he looks at his fiancée. “Emily.” he warns.

“It’s fine. I don’t need a lawyer to answer this. The flats are for me to wear because I’m always on my feet in stilettos. Anything else?” I ask and my eyes look at her left finger with the engagement ring that she’s holding the flute with. “I see you didn’t go through with the fire engine red. This nude makes your ring stand out. Good choice.”

I’m aware there’s no smile on my face and that everyone near me thinks I’m going to say something worse but sometimes, I’m aware of the situation. My gaze lands on Enrique, “you two do a few rounds and introduce yourselves. Matthew and I will check on the investors. See what they think. Jeeves, check in with the influencers and make sure they’re not posting things that we haven’t approved of.”

Enrique clenches his jaw like he wants to argue but I’m not sure which one of us he wants to challenge. Instead, he walks away leaving Emily behind. Jeeves nods in acknowledgement and ushers Emily in the direction for her to follow Enrique.

After a while of working the room, the music is on and everyone who wants to dance is dancing. The pangs of pain start up again indicating it’ll get worse, I lean against the high table trying my best not to move. The wave of dizziness I get takes a moment to settle and when it does, I do the last thing I want to do but I know he’s the only one who can help me.

Me: I need temporary flats.

I hope he understands what I mean and what it’s a signal for. My hand grips my cell as another wave of pain hits me. It’s a bit harsher this time. I breathe through it.

“Dance with me, Yasmeena.”

Before I can protest, Enrique whisks me away to the dance floor. “I just need a second to adjust and then I can go upstairs.”

“Use me as necessary.”

“Okay, I need you to hold me up. I can’t do it by myself right now.”

“Don’t worry. I’m here for you. Rest your head on my shoulder.”

I don’t think twice as I do it while he leads the dance. The pain takes over and I can’t hear or think about anything but Enrique’s scent momentarily seeps through the pain and calms me.

“Breathe for me, Yas.”

“Okay.”

I breathe and the pain begins to pass. Everything seems to come back into focus. The music, the people talking and the dancing.

“Good girl.”

“Funny.” I say as the music ends. “I’m okay now. I’ll just go up and get my medicine.”

Enrique studies my face for a bit as if he’s looking for verification of my words. Once he’s satisfied, he lets me go.

“Okay,” he acknowledges but still lingers like I’m going to pass out any second.

“I’m fine, Enrique. It passed. If I have any issues upstairs, I’ll let you know.”

I walk away from him and don’t stop to speak to anyone as I go upstairs. I didn’t lie but I didn’t exactly tell him the truth, the pain is a dull ache for now but I know if I don’t drink my medicine, I’ll be in more pain.

Once I get upstairs, I beeline for the toilet, I throw up whatever I had today. It hurts but I’m fine after. There is this sudden feeling of anger that takes over as I see the puke on my dress. I don’t think twice as I practically rip the dress off.

“It’s too tight!” I yell with no one in the room. I leave the bathroom and discard it on my bed along with my bra.

Everything is hurting me, the lights, my body. I remove my heels as I don’t think about how I haven’t turned on the lights. I follow the dimly lit path back to the bathroom. My body forces me over the toilet again and I grip anything I can to let the momentary pain pass. Once it does, I wash my face and rinse my mouth but as I look at myself in the mirror, there isn’t any point to what I’m doing anymore, is there?

“Why are you doing this to yourself, Yasmi?” I ask myself.

The tears start flowing and I look away. This is weak. Baba would be so disgusted with my behavior. I drop to the floor crying my heart out.




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