Flashback #5

The café buzzed with quiet energy, the hum of conversation blending with the hiss of the espresso machine.



I sat by the window, stirring my latte absently, my thoughts miles away.



"Remi."



I looked up, startled by the voice that broke my trance. Asher Kingsley stood before me, his dark grey eyes fixed on me. He was dressed in a dark suit, which had an open button.



His dark hair was messy as if he had ran his hand through it a couple of times.



He was handsome. Tall and had good features.



And he was one of the most popular boys in high school then.



"Asher?" I said, blinking in surprise. It had been years since I’d last seen him, back in high school. We’d been friends once, though life had pulled us in different directions. Seeing him now, sharp-suited and every bit the image of wealth and power, was jarring.



"Mind if I sit?" he asked, already pulling out the chair across from me.



"Go ahead," I said, gesturing vaguely. "What brings you here?"



He shrugged, his lips quirking in a half-smile. "I heard you were back in town. Thought I’d catch up."







We talked for a while, exchanging pleasantries and surface-level updates. But the light conversation didn’t last long.



"So," he said, leaning back in his chair, "how’s married life treating you?"



“Oh you have heard about it?”



He nodded at the ring.



I looked down. A ring Rowan had just picked from his room.



He doesn't even know where it was from.



The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. I hesitated, unsure how to answer.



I forced a smile



"It’s… fine," I said finally, avoiding his gaze.



Asher snorted, a sharp, humorless sound. "Come on, Remi. Don’t give me that."



"What do you want me to say?" I asked, my voice tinged with frustration.



"The truth," he said, his tone softening. "Are you happy?"



I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out.



Asher leaned forward, his expression serious. "Look, I’m not here to pry, but I know Rowan. Probably better than you do."



"Really?" I said, my tone defensive. "Because I hardly know you anymore, Asher."



He flinched at that, but his gaze didn’t waver. "Fair enough. But I’m telling you, he’s not what he seems."



"What’s that supposed to mean?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.



"It means," Asher said, his voice low, "he’s dangerous. Manipulative. And he doesn’t care about anyone but himself."



"That’s your opinion," I said, crossing my arms.



"No, it’s a fact," he said firmly. "I’ve seen what he does to people who get in his way. He’ll use you, Remi. And when he’s done, he’ll throw you away."





The words hit harder than I wanted to admit. "Why do you care, Asher?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.



He hesitated, his jaw tightening. "Because you’re better than this. You always have been. And I don’t want to see you get hurt."



"I can take care of myself," I said, though the words felt hollow.



"Maybe," he said, standing up. "But you don’t have to do it alone."



He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, sliding it across the table. "If you ever need help, call me."





\---



I stared at the card long after he’d left, my mind racing. Was Asher right? Was Rowan really as cruel and calculating as he claimed?



I didn’t have much time to dwell on it. By the time I got home, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the driveway.



The moment I opened the door, I knew something was wrong.



Rowan stood in the foyer, his posture rigid, his face a mask of barely contained fury. His piercing gaze locked onto mine, and my heart sank.



"Where the hell were you?" he demanded, his voice low and venomous.



"I went out," I said cautiously, closing the door behind me.



"With him?" he spat, his hand tightening around a stack of papers.



"What are you talking about?" I asked, genuinely confused.



Rowan’s lips curled into a sneer as he stepped closer. Without warning, he threw the papers at me. They scattered across the floor, glossy photographs fanning out like a cruel mosaic.



My breath caught in my throat as I looked down.



It was me and Asher, sitting at the café, deep in conversation. The images were candid, taken from angles that made it clear we hadn’t noticed.



"What is this?" I asked, my voice trembling.



"You tell me," Rowan said, his voice icy. "Are you cheating on me already, Remi?"



I looked up at him, my anger flaring. "That’s rich coming from you."



"Don’t deflect," he snapped. "You’ve got some nerve sneaking around behind my back."



"It wasn’t like that," I said, my voice shaking. "Asher’s an old friend. We were just talking."



"Talking about what?" he demanded, his tone laced with suspicion.



"None of your business," I shot back, my frustration boiling over.



Rowan’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "Everything about you is my business," he said, his voice dangerously low.



I clenched my fists, the weight of his words suffocating. "You don’t own me, Rowan."



His laugh was cold and humorless. "Don’t I?"



The silence that followed was deafening, the tension crackling like static electricity.



Rowan took a step back, his expression hardening. "Stay away from him," he said, his voice flat.



"You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t see," I said defiantly.



He leaned in close, his blue eyes piercing. "Oh, but I do. And if you think for one second that I’ll tolerate this, you’re sorely mistaken."



Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing in the foyer, the photographs still scattered around me.



I sank to the floor, my mind racing. Asher’s warning echoed in my ears, his voice a stark contrast to Rowan’s rage.



Was this what my life had become? A constant battle, a cycle of accusations and control?



I picked up one of the photographs, staring at the frozen image of Asher’s concerned face.



For a brief moment, I’d felt like I had someone in my corner.



But now, all I felt was fear.





\*\*\*\*

I didn’t want to leave the room.



I didn’t want to go out and see him. I dragged the comforter closer to my face, shutting my eyes tight, as if blocking out the morning would erase everything that happened last night.



Another knock came at the door, softer this time.



“Ma’am, it’s breakfast. Would you like some?”



“No,” I muttered, my voice muffled against the blanket.



There was a pause. “Mr. Vaughn insisted—”



“I’m not hungry,” I snapped, harsher than I intended.



The silence on the other side of the door stretched long enough for me to feel guilty, but then I heard the sound of retreating footsteps.





I stayed curled up for a while longer, staring at the ceiling. The photographs from last night were burned into my memory. The way Rowan had looked at me—accusing, furious—left a hollow ache in my chest.



It wasn’t just anger I saw in his eyes, though. It was something darker, something I didn’t want to think about too hard.



When the quiet grew too heavy, I forced myself out of bed. My legs felt shaky as I walked to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face in an attempt to ground myself.



The reflection staring back at me was unfamiliar—tired eyes, pale cheeks, a hollow sadness etched into every feature.



“What are you doing, Remi?” I whispered to myself.



I didn’t have an answer.





By the time I made it downstairs, the dining room was empty. A half-eaten plate of food sat at Rowan’s usual spot, the coffee still steaming. He must’ve left in a rush.



I sat at the far end of the table, picking at a slice of toast. The housekeeper lingered nearby, her eyes darting toward me every few seconds like she wanted to say something.



“Do you need something?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.



She flinched. “There’s a visitor in the living room, ma’am. She asked for you.”



My brows knitted together. “A visitor?”



“Yes, ma’am. She’s waiting.”



I frowned, pushing my plate aside. I wasn’t expecting anyone.





The woman sitting on the plush white couch looked entirely at ease, as if she owned the place. She had long, auburn hair swept over one shoulder, her fitted dress clinging to her in all the right places.



Her red lips curled into a smile when she saw me.



“Well, if it isn’t the elusive Mrs. Vaughn,” she said, standing up with an air of practiced elegance.



I hesitated in the doorway. “Who are you?”



She let out a soft laugh, the kind that felt more mocking than amused. “Gigi,” she said, extending a perfectly manicured hand.



I didn’t take it.



Her smile widened as if my refusal amused her. “Ah, so you’re not one for formalities. I can respect that.”



“What do you want?” I asked, my voice steady despite the uneasy feeling creeping up my spine.





She tilted her head, studying me like I was an interesting specimen. “You’re not what I expected, I’ll give you that.”



“Expected for what?”



“To be married to Rowan,” she said casually, as if the words didn’t carry the sting they did.



My stomach twisted, but I kept my face neutral. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”



Her laugh was louder this time, echoing in the spacious room. “Oh, sweetheart, Rowan is my business.”



I clenched my fists at my sides. “If you have something to say, say it.”



“Fine,” she said, stepping closer. Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor, each step deliberate.



“You don’t belong here,” she said, her tone sweet but her eyes sharp. “You’re playing house with a man who’s way out of your league.”



I bristled. “Excuse me?”



“Oh, come on,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re a nobody. A pretty little distraction at best. Did you really think he married you for love?”



My throat tightened, but I forced myself to hold her gaze. “Why do you care?”



“Because Rowan deserves someone who can match him,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “Not… whatever it is you’re doing here.”





I took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure. “If you’re done, you can leave.”



She smirked. “Oh, I’m far from done. You should know something about Rowan—he doesn’t keep things around that don’t serve a purpose. And once he’s bored of you, he’ll move on.”



“Is that what happened with you?” I shot back before I could stop myself.



Her smirk faltered for a split second, but she recovered quickly. “Touché,” she said, her tone icy.



We stood in silence for a moment, the air between us crackling with tension.



“Let me give you some advice,” she said, stepping so close I could see the faint freckles on her nose. “Don’t get too comfortable. This little fantasy of yours? It’s temporary.”





I swallowed hard, refusing to let her see how much her words rattled me. “Are you done?”



She glanced over her shoulder as the sound of footsteps approached.



Rowan walked in, his presence commanding as always. He froze when he saw us, his blue eyes darting between me and Gigi.



“What’s going on here?” he asked, his tone sharp.



“Just a friendly chat,” Gigi said smoothly, turning to him with a radiant smile. “Isn’t that right, Remi?”



I didn’t respond, my eyes locked on Rowan. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his irritation.



“Gigi,” he said, his voice low, “what are you doing here?”



“I came to see you, of course,” she said, brushing past me to stand closer to him.



Rowan’s gaze flicked to me, something unreadable passing over his face.



“Come on,” he said finally, his tone clipped. “Let’s go.”



I f

roze.



He didn't…he didn't defend me.



I was indeed worthless in his eyes.



And the thoughts made me fall to my knees.