-51-
Yasmin
I sat in the small corner café, stirring my coffee absently as I waited. The aroma of freshly brewed beans filled the air, mingling with the chatter of patrons and the clinking of cups. My bodyguards, disguised as casual diners, were positioned two tables behind me, their eyes constantly scanning the room. It had taken considerable persuasion to convince everyone that I needed to meet Ethan face-to-face before we took any action but after they heard my plan, they were all for it.
They didn’t understand. They couldn’t fathom my need to look him in the eye as he tried to manipulate me. I needed to see his face when I dismantled his delusions. I also needed to confirm my growing suspicion that the photo-shopped images of my supposed infidelity were his doing.
The door chimed as Ethan walked in, and I straightened in my seat, my heart pounding. I had expected him to look disheveled, guilt-ridden. Instead, he was annoyingly pristine, his suit tailored to perfection, his hair neatly combed. He wore a smug smile as he approached, completely oblivious to the storm brewing around him.
“Yasmin,” he greeted, his voice warm and familiar. “It’s been a while.”
“Ethan,” I replied, my tone carefully measured. “It has, some would say it hasn't been long enough.”
He sat across from me, unperturbed by my words or the tension in the air. “You look great,” he spoke calmly as if we were old friends catching up over coffee. "I love the black hair."
I forced a smile. “Thank you. I do too.”
The small talk felt surreal, given the circumstances. Here was the man who tried to blackmail me, yet he acted as though nothing had happened. As he spoke about mundane things – work, mutual acquaintances, even the weather – I marveled at his audacity. How could he be so delusional? I let him live in his fantasy a little longer, nodding and responding where appropriate, all the while feeling a sense of power building within me. This was my moment. My moment to show him just who he was messing with. I'd let my family have their fun with him, but it would be after I did my damage.
“You know, Yasmin,” Ethan said, leaning in slightly. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us. About what we had.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Yes,” he continued, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “I made mistakes, but I’ve never stopped caring about you. We could have something special again.”
I felt a flicker of disgust but kept my expression neutral. “Ethan, do you truly think that’s possible?”
His eyes brightened with hope. “Of course! All we need to do is put the past behind us. We can start fresh. Forget about everything – what my family said, what I did. None of it matters anymore.”
He reached across the table to take my hand, and I allowed it, watching his smile widen, filling with confidence. “Yasmin, I know I’ve hurt you, but I promise, I’ll make it right. We can be happy together.”
I leaned in closer, encouraging him, making him think that there was a chance I would agree and then I dug my nail into the dorsal side of his hand. He immediately winced in pain, and I tightened my grip so he couldn't pull away. “Ethan,” I said softly. “You’re living in a fantasy.”
His smile faltered. “What do you mean?”
“Did you think I’d ever forgive you? That I’d take you back after everything you’ve done?”
Confusion flickered in his eyes, quickly replaced by a hint of fear. “Yasmin, what are you talking about?”
I leaned forward, my voice a whisper of steel. “You tried to blackmail me, Ethan. With photoshopped pictures. Did you think I wouldn’t fight back?”
He tugged harder this time and I let him, releasing him from my grip. He reached for one of the napkins to wipe away the blood and I did the same. “We can put that behind us.”
"And what about the photos you photoshopped to make it look like I cheated on you?"
"We can move past that too."
"Move past it?" my voice raised unintentionally. "You hit me because of photos you doctored all because you needed me out of the way."
"Yasmin, come on. We can work this out."
I scoffed, unable to hide the bitterness in my tone. "Work this out? After what you did? You think I'd ever forgive you, let alone take you back?"
His expression faltered for a moment, but then he recovered quickly. "Come on, Yasmin. You know I can make things difficult for you. I have those photos..."
I cut him off. "Oh, you mean those pathetic photo-shopped pictures you tried to use to blackmail me?"
He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "What are you talking about?"
"You sent the original photos in with the edited ones. For someone trying so hard to be a villain in my story, you're doing a terrible job."
"Oh, just shut up!" he started the facade he was trying to sell me finally cracking under all the pressure.
With each passing second, I could feel Ethan's gaze boring into me, his frustration palpable even as his words grew angrier. He didn't expect this, not from me. But then again, he never truly understood who I am.
I took a deliberate sip of my coffee, the warmth spreading throughout my body. It wasn't just the caffeine that fueled me now; it was the resolve burning in my chest. Ethan had thought he could still control me, pull me back into his web of manipulation. Little did he know, I was already steps ahead of him.
As I sat there, tuning out his increasingly desperate attempts to regain control, I reflected on how different things were now compared to when I was with him. Back then, I lived in the shadows, my true identity concealed to protect myself and to keep his fragile ego intact. There was no room for a public presence, no space to be myself openly.
But now, everything was different. The truth was out there, and it was liberating. With a single act of defiance, I had shed the last vestiges of secrecy that bound me. There was no longer any reason for me to be anyone but myself and that's exactly what I did.
A simple photo, a few taps on social media, and suddenly I was no longer Yasmin Rashid hiding behind a veil of anonymity. I was Yasmin Rashid-Amato, wife of Rafael Amato, daughter of Ivan Rashid- a name with history, with roots, with a story that resonated with millions.
The notifications on my phone buzzed incessantly, each a confirmation of solidarity and support. My family, friends, and even acquaintances from distant corners of my past—all rallying behind me. My family's follow came first, a silent testament to our unspoken bond that transcended words. Then others followed and within hours I had over five million followers on Instagram and countless more on other platforms.
Ethan's voice pierced my thoughts, a harsh reminder of the present. "You think this changes anything?" he sneered, leaning forward across the table, his eyes narrowing into slits of malice. "You can't escape what I have on you. You're still mine, Yasmin. You're still my wife. I never sent in the divorce papers which means you still belong to me."
I met his gaze squarely, the fire in me burning brighter. "No, Ethan," I said calmly, my voice carrying the weight of certainty. "I was never yours to begin with and now, everyone will know just how much of a bastard you truly are."
With a quick nod to my bodyguards, the video I recorded a day prior was released simultaneously on every social media platform. As Ethan launched into his rant, unaware of the storm about to hit him, I watched with satisfaction and pride. I was proud of myself for keeping it together and getting my revenge.
The video spread like wildfire, especially since everyone was on standby just waiting for the video to drop so they could repost it. Disgusted looks turned Ethan's way as people around us watched in disbelief. A smirk played on my lips as I slipped on my sunglasses, my engagement ring and wedding band catching the light for the first time. Ethan's eyes widened as he caught sight of them.
With deliberate calmness, I pulled out a wedding invitation from my bag. I held it up, displaying it to Ethan with a steady hand. "You won't be receiving one of these," I said coolly, my voice cutting through his tirade. "You're not invited to my second wedding with Rafael, but I can assure you, it will be beautiful."
The words hung in the air, heavy with finality. Ethan's face contorted with rage and disbelief. His carefully constructed facade crumbled before me, revealing the pettiness and desperation beneath. I felt a rush of empowerment knowing I had taken back whatever lingering sympathy I had for him.
Without another word, I rose from my seat and turned away from him. I could feel his eyes boring into my back as I walked out of the cafe, my bodyguards falling into step behind me. Just before I opened the door, I turned back to face him. "You should tune in to the press conference I'm having tomorrow, it's going to be riveting."