ANNA'S POV
Returning to the hushed atmosphere of the house, I immediately noticed the absence of both Angel and my brother, Frank, from the living room. A sharp, unwelcome pang of suspicion hit me.
Something, I instinctively knew, was wrong. Frank had a notorious, almost pathological disdain for commitment and respect, especially where beautiful women like Angel were concerned. This worried me immensely because Angel wasn't just a casual friend; she was the sister I had chosen, the one person I could trust implicitly, without regretting a single moment.
My mind drifted back to the morning two years ago when fate had thrown us together on Doyers Street. I was running impossibly late for work and, in my frantic rush, had grabbed the TV remote instead of my phone.
Compounding the disaster, my ATM card had expired the previous week, meaning I relied solely on mobile transfers to pay for transportation.
Upon arriving at my workplace, I plunged my hand into my handbag, utterly confident, only for my heart to plummet when my fingers closed around the hard plastic of the remote control.
The taxi driver immediately began to shout, demanding his fare. I tried desperately to explain the bizarre mix-up, but he wasn't interested in logic or excuses.
All the surrounding passengers seemed to support his fury, urging him to drag me back into the cab if I wasn't going to pay.
"That's how they behave," one passenger sneered dismissively, "putting on airs like a slay queen when they can't even afford their transport fare."
Humiliation washed over me; I was frozen, utterly confused, and unsure how to escape the escalating confrontation.
Then, like a sudden, divine intervention, Angel appeared out of nowhere. She calmly asked what the commotion was about, and I recounted the humiliating tale.
"It's alright," she had said, her voice soothing. "Things like this happen to everyone sometimes."
She paid the bill without a second thought. I was immensely relieved, took her contact information, and promised to call her immediately. That accidental, chaotic morning marked the beginning of our deep connection, a friendship that only deepened into true sisterhood as we grew closer.
Shaking off the memories, I walked into the bedroom, and found Angel sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, but Frank was still gone. The moment our eyes met, I caught the strained, fragile expression on her face—a look that instantly confirmed my suspicion that something significant, and likely bad, had transpired during my absence.
While telling her about my fiancé Ken's imminent visit, she offered a cheerful, though clearly forced, smile. My gaze drifted lower. Tucked halfway at the corner of the bed, undeniably visible to anyone observant, was a discarded pair of men's boxers—Frank's boxers.
Angel was trying, poorly, to conceal them beneath her hand. I said nothing, choosing silence and pretending I hadn't registered the stark evidence lying between us.
"Angel, would you mind helping me in the kitchen?" I asked, standing up and purposefully moving toward the doorway.
"Let's start making something nice before Ken arrives."
"Sure," she replied, her voice sounding tight. "I'm hungry already." She stood and followed me to the kitchen.
Once the running water provided a semblance of privacy, I turned to her.
"So, what was the problem? You mentioned earlier that we would talk about it later." I prompted, remembering the profound sadness in her eyes when she first arrived.
"Babe, I still can't believe what I saw this morning," she whispered, her shoulders slumping as the mournful expression returned.
"What is it? Who is causing trouble for you this time?" I asked, leaning against the counter.
"I went over to Alex's house early this morning to surprise him and show him the final fitting of my new wedding dress," she recounted, her voice cracking.
"I found Annabelle and Alex in his room. They were having sex."
Tears, previously held back by sheer willpower, now tracked paths down her cheeks.
"Who exactly is Annabelle?" I asked, needing clarification on the secondary villain in this sudden tragedy.
"That friend of mine," Angel choked out, wiping her eyes frantically. "The one I told you came back from England specifically for my upcoming wedding with Alex."
A wave of heat and sympathy rushed through me. I felt profoundly sad and pained for her. I immediately pulled her into a tight, comforting hug, trying desperately to halt the stream of her distress.
I shook my head slowly, murmuring the thought aloud, but mostly to myself: "Why are some ladies like this? A girl that Angel just paid for an apartment for upon her arrival into the country, and she decided the best way to pay her back was by having sex with her fiancé."