The Boss Identity
His actions irritated me so much that I slapped him—something I had never done before.
"I'm sorry, I just couldn't control myself," he pleaded, but I wasn't listening. I was already walking away. He called out, but I ignored him.
Mysterio would be disappointed in me. I was disappointed in myself. It felt like washing my lips with an iron sponge. The sensation disgusted me. I kept spitting, even though the taste never went past my tongue.
I arrived home exhausted, hating how much his absence was affecting me. He wasn't even my boyfriend. I went straight to the bathroom and took a quick shower, but I spent too much time scrubbing my lips. They almost bled from the friction. I put on the singlet he loved the most, wondering how he imagined it since he hadn't seen it yet. Just as I was about to try his number again, my phone rang. I was overjoyed when his name popped up.
"Hello, where have you been? Do you think I'm a fool? Someone you can just leave and come back to whenever you like?" This wasn't how I planned to talk to him, but my anger was overwhelming.
"You didn't even ask if I was okay. I called, and the first thing I hear is you nagging. I'm not even your boyfriend," his words stung.
"You're right, you're not my boyfriend. So why should I care if you're fine or not? I bet whoever you spent the week with took better care of you than I ever could," I snapped. I had spent the week thinking he might have gone to see his girlfriend, cutting off communication with me.
"Yeah, she treated me so well that I extended my trip from two days to one week," he said, and his words cut deeper than I could have imagined. I felt my throat tighten, making it hard to breathe.
"Well, I guess I have no issues with that. I probably had more fun on my date today than you did all week," I spat, trying to hide the pain. Why couldn't I just admit that I missed him? Why was I being so stubborn?
"You went on a date?" His tone dropped.
"Yes, it was so great that it ended in a sweet kiss," I blurted out, instantly regretting it. Why was I torturing myself like this?
"Well, I guess I healed your broken heart, and you jumped right into another date. I hope it doesn't end like the last one, because I won't be around to witness it."
"I'll make sure it doesn't. Have fun with your little girlfriend. I hope she can handle your stupid face," I retorted.
"You're so selfish," he screamed. I felt a twisted pleasure in making him angry, but I also felt an overwhelming sadness and anger. I had been waiting for him all week, while he was in the arms of another woman.
"Yes, I am. Leave me alone. I wish I never dialed your number that night," I said before hanging up. I instantly turned off my phone—this was how I handled things. When I fought with someone, I shut myself off to avoid any further damage.
I went to bed and cried. I never realized how important he was to me, and I hated that I was jealous of him being with someone else. I cried myself to sleep that night.
It was Sunday when I woke up, with nowhere to go. I was too tired to go to church. I turned on my phone, secretly hoping to see a text from him—even if it was just him scolding me. At least he would still be a part of my life. There was nothing. No text. My heart sank. I checked WhatsApp—nothing there either. I tried calling him. I planned to apologize, to tell him the truth about the date and how I was just missing him. I would bury the jealousy. But his phone was off. That scared me more than anything.
I spent the whole day trying to contact him, but his number remained unreachable. "Please, God, don't take him away from me," I prayed.
Monday came, and I went to work like a ghost, barely able to focus. He was still angry with me, and maybe he had decided I wasn't worth his time anymore. We even joked about our underwear, and now he was gone so easily. It made me want to scream.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Nnedi said as I entered the office.
"Just feeling under the weather," I replied, not wanting to share too much.
"That explains your late arrival. By the way, the CEO is asking for you," she added.
I froze. No matter how terrible I felt, the mention of him sent a surge of energy through my body.
"Why?" If I hadn't heard the news of the workers he fired, I wouldn't be so worked up
"I don't know. We just got the message an hour ago, and I tried calling, but you weren't picking up."
I stood up instantly. Please, God, don't let me lose this job. My mother was sick, and I was responsible for her expenses, not to mention my brother's school fees.
"Aren't you going? You've kept him waiting," Timi added. I nodded, my mind racing. What had I done wrong? I missed Mysterio so much. He would have known just what to say.
I knocked gently on his door, and I heard his cold voice call out, "Come in."
I walked in slowly, my heart in my throat. He was sitting at his desk, engrossed in some documents. I took a moment to check him out: sharp haircut, dark skin, looking as composed as ever.
"Are you done checking me out?" he said, making me blush with embarrassment.
"Sorry," I mumbled, looking down.
He got up and walked closer. My heart skipped a beat. Was he one of those CEOs who slept with his employees? Please, God, no.
"I don't know if it's good or bad that you couldn't recognize your Mysterio," he said, and I froze in shock.