CHAPTER FIVE
THE LIE SHE TOLD
Jeremy's POV
I didn't even look back as I drove away. My head was a storm—so much noise, so many emotions colliding inside me, I couldn't even begin to untangle them. I wasn't sure what weighed heavier on my mind: the unexpected kiss I had shared with Lyla or the voice note Myra had sent me, her words still echoing in my ears. Each thought pressed hard against me, refusing to give me peace. I felt torn, suspended between two women, two truths, two possibilities.
That night, I came dangerously close to losing control on the road. My grip on the steering wheel was weak, and my mind kept drifting. One wrong turn, one moment of inattention, and I could have crashed. Somehow, luck—or perhaps fate—kept me alive until I pulled into the compound.
The security men at the gate greeted me cheerfully, their voices cutting into the silence, but I didn't even respond. I couldn't find the strength for pleasantries. I pushed past them, walked into the house like a man possessed, and reached for the whiskey without hesitation.
I needed comfort.
I needed numbness.
I needed to drown the noise in my chest.
But the whiskey didn't console me; it only added fire to my unrest. I drank furiously, glass after glass, bottle after bottle, until three whole bottles were gone. Each swallow was meant to silence the storm, yet the storm only raged louder. My chest burned, my eyes blurred, my body grew heavier.
By the time I finally collapsed on the couch, I could barely see the room around me. Everything was a haze of shadows and broken thoughts. The only thing I remembered before drifting into oblivion was the feel of the leather beneath me and the unbearable weight of confusion pressing against my heart.
Morning came too soon.
I woke up sprawled awkwardly on the couch, my body stiff like stone. My neck screamed in pain, my head throbbed like it had been beaten. "Ouch," I groaned, pressing my temples. "My neck… my head…" The price of drowning sorrow with alcohol had come due, and I was paying in aches.
With effort, I dragged myself upright, using the couch as my crutch. My legs wobbled beneath me as I staggered toward my bedroom. All I wanted was a bed, silence, and maybe sleep to rescue me again.
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Lyla's POV
The morning sun broke through my curtains, yet my thoughts were still lost in yesterday. My mind replayed the events again and again—the kiss with Jeremy, the argument with Myra, the tension that lingered like an unshakable shadow.
I rose from bed with determination. After a quick shower and some light makeup, I ordered breakfast. Cooking had never been my strength, especially when Myra wasn't around. The kitchen was her domain, not mine, and honestly, I had little patience for it. After eating, I felt restless. I couldn't sit still. I needed to see Jeremy.
The thought of him suffering alone disturbed me. I wanted to know how he was holding up after last night. More importantly, I wanted to see with my own eyes if he had begun to doubt Myra—the girl who had pretended for so long, hiding behind her false modesty.
It was only the second time I would be visiting Jeremy's home. The first had been with Myra, a casual visit. But today was different—today, I was going alone. My heart raced with anticipation. I felt almost giddy at the thought of being near him, of stepping into his private world without Myra's watchful presence.
When I arrived at the gate, the security men recognized me instantly. Jeremy had already introduced me to them during my first visit, so there was no hesitation in letting me in. They smiled politely, then ushered me through.
Stepping into his living room, my eyes widened. The floor was littered with empty whiskey bottles, a silent testimony to the battle he had fought the night before. My heart sank. "Jeremy… did you really drink all of this?" I whispered to myself, horrified.
I didn't know where his bedroom was, so I began searching room by room, my feet moving swiftly across the tiled floors. Finally, I found him. He was curled up under a blanket, lying so still he looked like a corpse. My breath caught in my throat.
"Jeremy?" My voice trembled. I rushed to him and gently tapped his shoulder. Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open. At first, his gaze was blank, lost in a fog of exhaustion, but as recognition dawned, his expression crumbled. Tears welled up in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks.
My heart broke. Without thinking, I pulled him close, cradling him against me as if he were a child. "It's okay," I whispered, stroking his back. "I'm here… I'm here, my baby."
After calming him, I coaxed him toward the bathroom, running warm water for him to wash away the alcohol's residue. Leaving him there, I moved to the kitchen. Though cooking wasn't my passion, I couldn't let him stay weak. I searched the cabinets until I found ripe plantains and eggs. "This will do," I muttered, quickly frying them into a simple but hearty meal.
When I returned to his room, he was sitting on the bed, his head in his hands, still struggling with the weight of his thoughts. I placed the food before him, and for the first time, a faint smile touched his lips. He took a bite, chewed, and nodded appreciatively.
"This is delicious," he said softly, his voice hoarse. "Thank you."
I hesitated, then asked, "Jeremy… why did you drink so much? Why hurt yourself like this?"
He sighed deeply, his voice breaking. "Because Myra shattered my heart… but part of me still doubts it."
I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling inside me. "Why doubt? The evidence is right there. A slut will always be a slut. No doubt."
Pulling out my phone, I showed him a clip I had saved—a video of a woman and man entangled in passion. I pressed play, and Myra's moans filled the room.
"Look, Jeremy," I said sharply. "This is Myra. With another man. Tell me—why won't you see the truth? Why cling to her? Why suffer for her?"
His eyes widened. His jaw tightened. "Lyla… listen. It's not that I couldn't satisfy her. She told me from the very beginning she wanted to keep her virginity for the man she would one day marry. She made me promise not to cross that line. And I respected her. I didn't want to hurt her or force her. That's why I've stayed loyal, why I've avoided other women. I thought she was pure. I thought…" His voice broke.
I cut in bitterly. "Jeremy, she lied to you. She told you she was a virgin? She isn't. She's been with men before—many times. That innocent image she wears? It's all fake. She plays modest, pretends she's untouched, but it's a performance. Even the day you asked her out in our house, I acted like it was her first relationship, but it wasn't. She threatened me—told me if I revealed the truth, she'd throw me out."
His brow furrowed. "Why? What do you mean?"
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "Myra and I are cousins. Her father owned the house we live in. My parents had a home once, but it was destroyed in a fire. Both our parents died that night. I survived, but since then, I've had no place of my own. Myra reminds me of it constantly, threatening to kick me out if I don't play along. I've been trapped. An orphan with nowhere else to go."
Jeremy's mouth fell open in shock.
"And all this time," I continued bitterly, "she's been painting herself as a saint. No makeup, modest dresses, claiming she's never been in love before. But think about it—how did she know how to kiss you so well? How could a so-called virgin move like that, kiss like that? She's been playing you, Jeremy."
My voice trembled with anger as I pulled up another video—one Myra had once sent me just to taunt me. The screen lit up with her body moving rhythmically, her moans filling the air. "Look at this," I spat. "She sent this to me to mock me. Look at how she moves, how she moans. She's no virgin. She's an expert. And she knew exactly how to deceive you."
Jeremy sat in silence, his face pale, his eyes darting back and forth as if searching for something solid to hold on to. He didn't speak. He only nodded slowly, lost in thought, trying to piece together the fragments of truth and lies I had thrown at him.
Whether he believed me or not, I couldn't tell.
But deep down, I knew the truth.
And I also knew the lie.
Only I held that secret.