"Always be happy and appreciate whatever situations you experience during the day's time."
— Bella Angel Douglas
Sofia's POV
The moment I stepped into the restaurant, I forgot why I was late.
Because I saw him.
Antonio Haywood.
Six foot two. Golden-brown eyes. Sharp jawline. Lean, controlled. Every inch of him is disciplined, yet effortlessly graceful. His golden-brown hair caught the light just so, making him look unreal.
For half a second, my pulse betrayed me.
Then he spoke.
"You are late."
Not loud. Not rude. Cold. Measured. Dismissing.
Heat flared across my chest. My fingers dug into my palm beneath the table, nails leaving crescent-shaped marks. I swallowed hard, tasting the faint sting of tension on my tongue. My mind raced — this isn't fiction. No slow-burn romance. Just humiliation.
He reduced me. Me. Not anyone else. And for a second, the familiar whisper crept back: You are not enough.
I hated that voice.
But I've lived long enough to know better than to let it dictate to me.
I exhale slowly, feeling my jaw unclench. My fingers relax. Not fully, but enough.
The ride home is quiet. Saydai's presence is a tether. She doesn't speak. She doesn't need to. She knows.
At the bus junction, her hand presses lightly against mine. A silent reassurance. I nod, tight-lipped.
I am exhausted. Not my body. My mind. My heart.
The gates of my villa slide open. The ocean greets me. Cool, salty, grounding.
Gray and black. Sharp lines. Clean architecture. Power and peace. Control. Strength embodied in design. Not masculine. Not feminine. My home. My rules.
Coleman opens the car door. Fatu places my bag on the stand. I climb the stairs, avoiding mirrors. Not yet.
Inside the bathroom, I pause. I see the reflection of what he might have measured — small, delicate, soft.
Do I look like a child?
No.
I let my hands shake slightly as I remove my earrings. A deep swallow. My throat tightens. Heat rises along my neck. Anger. Frustration. Resentment.
I choose gray. Peace. Black. Power. My robe slips over my shoulders. Control regained, deliberate.
Warm water fills the Jacuzzi. Rose petals. A drop of AdellaCrystal's coconut and carrot oil — fragrance and softness. Femininity reclaimed after the chaos.
Red wine. A piece of chocolate. Small indulgences, small proof that softness and strength can coexist.
I sink in. The heat surrounds me like armor. My breath evens. My heart slows, though my chest still burns.
I think of children. Marriage. My life plan. Dreams deferred. Subconscious mocks me — what if you never have them?
I sip wine. I close my eyes. Focus. Center.
This isn't about him.
It's about me.
He tested me. I reacted. I won't again.
Tomorrow, I wake up stronger. Not because the day didn't hurt — but because I survived it.
And when I step back into the world, I will be seen. Not small. Not soft. Not vulnerable. Seen as whole. Unshaken. Unapologetic.
I open my eyes. Silk nightgown against my skin. Cool. Gentle. Strong.
I am ready.
Hi amigos!
It has been a while.
The name Fatu can be used in Liberia and Guinea.
It's often used in Liberia among the Via and Mandingo tribes.
It's actually Fatumata at times or Fatuma.
Please don't forget to like, share, comment and follow.
Xoxo ♥️
Bella Angel Douglas 16