Chapter 9 #2
“Everything…” His eyes grew colder, sharper, full of loathing. “I can’t stand everything about you, Sophie.” His words shredded me. “You’re like a disease in my body that can never be cured.” He fell silent, his body shaking. “That’s what you are to me.”
My tears broke free. My sob burst out of its prison.
My chest was so tight it felt like my lungs were drained of oxygen. I sobbed, while Zioh shut his eyes, his jaw tense and his body rigid above me.
I tried to hold it. Even now, when he looked at me like I was a disease, I still looked at him as the person I used to… love. But I wanted to show him that I wasn’t the same Tshabina anymore.
I wasn’t the weak, whiny girl who begged for outings every weekend. I was a grown woman now. Could do or make things on my own. And I owed much of those to him.
I took one shaky breath for a long moment, and every exhale was weighted with my pain. I stared at him, though his eyes remained shut.
Biting my lip, gathering every ounce of strength, I finally spoke, even though my voice was hoarse and thinner than I intended. “Answer me, Zi.” I trembled as I voiced the question that had haunted me for ten years. “Me… Bibu… what did we ever do wrong?”
Zioh opened his eyes again. They flickered but then reset to glacial.
His jaw locked as though forcing the words out through immense pressure.
“You. Bibu. All of you are mistakes.” Each word hit like a blade.
“From the beginning, you shouldn’t have existed.
We should never have met, Sophi—Tshabina.
” He shook his head. “So, if you ask me what your fault is? The answer is one word. It’s you. ”
I didn’t even flinch anymore. I only lay there and took his words. I bit my lip, and my damn tears streamed like a heavy downpour.
“You hate me that much?” I asked, breaking on a sob.
My jaw ached from holding back too much. My voice trembled as I forced it steady. “You know, Zi? It’s not fair!” My cry cracked. “Because I never felt that way. I didn’t even know if I could.” My tone turned bitter, raw. “Please… make me hate you too.”
His stare faltered then. He blinked once…
twice… and went empty. His body stayed tense, and in this moment, I wished I could slip into his brain to find the answer to his coldness, his resentment, his change.
So, even as he erased my reasons to hold on one by one, I wanted to find another, one more reason to stay.
The silence stretched, and my pounding heart echoed in my ears. His voice broke it, but the answer only sent my thoughts racing out of control.
“As you wish,” he said under his breath. “Despise me for what I’m about to do, Tshabina,”
This time, his gaze shifted. His eyes reddened—shook, and his shoulders trembled. Veins strained across his neck as if holding back years of buried emotion.
Only one answer burned inside me: why?
A second later, Zioh grabbed both my legs in his broad hands. “But first. Spread your legs, Tshabina.” His voice was low, heavy. There was no life in his eyes when he pulled my legs apart.
As his knee bumped against my thighs, something behind his eyes simply shut down. “Zi-Zioh, wait—” I barely managed, but he was already fumbling with the top button of my cardigan. Something flickered across his face.
Was this the alcohol speaking?
He looked as though he might explode at any second.
His breath came fast, uneven. “Is it me, or you?”
“Zi—”
“What?” His response was hurried, raspy, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
He shook his head, his muscles taut and his eyes darting until they found mine again.
“You came here knowing what you were doing, didn’t you?
” He spoke in a breathless rush. “Walking into a room alone with a drunk man. Did that pretty little head of yours not think this might happen?”
His snarl was low, his breath scorching against my skin, and his stare burning into mine. “And you said you wanted to hate me too, didn’t you?” His tone sank darker, more lost. “Fine then, I’ll give you a reason to hate me, Tshabina. Tonight, I’ll be your hate.”
Bastard? Yes. But I could see the look in his eyes shifting, the same look that had shaken me since the day before.
Bitterness, warmth, and ache leaked from his gaze through his gaze, and a storm of heaviness and sorrow was spilling through despite him.
His hand brushed my cheek, unsteady, almost tender, and perhaps even without him realizing.
The room stayed cold because of the air conditioner, but our gaze didn’t. It was as if nothing else existed but this moment.
“Hate me, Tshabina. You have to hate me, because I h-have to h-hate you.” His voice sank deep, but it sounded hesitant, sending a rush through my veins. He shook his head. “But it’s difficult when you still treat me like your favourite hero.”
Time seemed to stop, so did I.
Hero. He remembered.
You are, Zi. Not were. But are. Always. I wanted to scream the words.
I cried and cried. Deep down, he still remembered us. Remembered me. Remembered the heavenly days we shared.
Sobbing, my chest took hit after hit at the thought that for thirteen years, I had lived in a dream—and only now, his words declared it real. I had lived it with him.
I hadn’t realized how close we’d grown until his reddened eyes locked with mine, and emotion was unspoken yet crashing between us. My hand stroked his cheek, praying the touch might soothe him. But then my fingers tightened on his shoulders, because in the next second his lips captured mine again.
This time, it wasn’t forceful. Not harsh, not demanding. The kiss was soft, gentler than before, as though neither of us wanted to wound the other.
When he broke it, the sound of our ragged breaths remained. Our eyes clashed, burning, as the taste of alcohol lingered bitter in my mouth. Neither of us spoke. But my eyes carried every unsaid word.
Then Zioh shook his head and cupped my face again, kissing me once more, but this time more demanding.
His teeth caught my lower lip, prying my mouth open.
His tongue pressed in, seeking mine, insistent.
It was mesmerizing, the soft flashes felt intoxicating, leaving me wishing this connection would never loosen.
Even the warmth of his breath against my face sent a sharp electric sensation through me, leaving my body trembling.
We tangled long and deep, until his lips trailed down to my neck and brushed there again and again. It felt as though it was signaling my brain to close my eyes and lift my face upward. I had to clutch his shoulders, needing an anchor to overwhelm the sensation.
A sharp gasp tore from me when he bit my skin. “Zioh…” One of his hands slipped back to the top of my cardigan and unfastened button after button until I stopped him at the third.
“W-wait… Zi—” I stammered.
He halted, staring at me with wavering eyes. He shook his head, and his lips quivered as though shaping words he couldn’t voice. My hand clutched his over my chest, my heart racing. I remembered with horror that I wasn’t wearing a bra. Only pasties.
“What?” His voice was low. “Do you want me to stop?” His palm brushed the sliver of my skin left bare where the buttons had come undone.
“I… I—” I faltered, then his lips claimed mine again, swallowing my words. His hands resumed, slipping buttons free one by one until my cardigan hung open completely.
When he pulled back, his wide and frozen eyes locked on me. For a heartbeat, he looked at me with something I could recognize.
It was the look Zioh used to give me long ago.
I tilted my head down, and the strip of skin from my throat to my stomach was bare, framed by the gaping cardigan.
His breath scorched hot over me. “You didn’t wear a bra?” he rasped, trailing a middle finger down my exposed skin. From my neck, through the valley of my breasts, over my stomach, my navel, and down to the waistband of my pants. Stopping at the edge of what lay beyond.
A surge of electricity drawn out to reward me, something I never imagined would burst inside me like fireworks. I found myself wishing the trail would never end, my skin humming under his touch as if begging for more.
“Zi…” I shuddered. My body betrayed me, heat curling low and rising. I tried to hold it back, but it was impossible, especially when my eyes flicked downward, catching his expensive pants.
Did he truly want me? Was this just drunken lust, or something deeper?
“Just a bra… or…?” His voice dipped to a whisper, and his gaze slid from my face down to where my jeans hid everything.
I was too shaken to answer, yet his chest heaved, breath hitched as he said it. His stare darkened further. “We just need to find the answer, right?”
His eyes burned me, but I caught something. His jaw tightened, then loosened as if… he couldn’t choose which version of himself he should take.
Zioh’s eyes shifted away, then back. “So, tell me, Tshabina. Our innocent girl, Tshabina…” His voice dropped cold, sharp.
“After these ten years, have you ever slept with another man?” I flinched at his tone.
His hand rose to the clasp of my jeans. The heat of his hand pressed into my skin, making me swallow.
“Hm?” His demand carried a frosty edge, making me shiver. My tongue stuck, and my heart slammed against my ribs.
“Back at school, you never dated anyone,” I held my breath. “And now, grown into a beautiful woman, does it make you curious?” He leaned closer, his lips at my ear, whispering. “How does it feel… to be touched?”
I let out the breath I’d been holding, and when his hot breath brushed against my ear, I shivered, awakening a sensation I knew was so very wrong.
His fingers slid, following the line of my waist and pressing my skin. My hand rose, instinctively gripping him. Odd sensation surged through me and took over. My body trembled, a gasp escaping me as his touch scorched against my skin.
Clutching his hands tight, I held them still as I tried to stop and give myself space to process. “And what about you?” I sputtered. “A-are you having fun in the UK?”
He froze. The air turned cold, and his eyes darkened, flickering for a second.
“What fun?” He bit back, displeasure plain.
I swallowed hard. I didn’t even know why I had to ask.
Maybe because deep down I knew the answer was he had plenty of fun there, and I kept pushing it away, but the thought kept crawling back.
My body was fever-hot with longing and yet wrapped in guilt.
“With another girl? W-what about your girlfriend? A-are you two still—”
Zioh shot me with a sharp look, and his hand was clenching my skin with tension. He ducked his head and shook it.
What? They were no longer together? They had broken up?
His eyes met mine again, lips twitching into a thin smile so fleeting I might have missed it if I blinked. “If you want to ask about women, ask Zeraiah. He had a lot of fun.” His stare darkened further. “But me? I want to have fun after a long fucking time.”
And in the next instant, his lips crashed onto mine again—rougher, faster, more desperate than before.