Crises in Love (Zora and Jaylan)

All these queries had me feeling like I was stuck in a maze, my head pounding with confusion.

But my rational side nagged at me, and I knew there was no time to dwell on uncertainties.

With an impatient air, I plopped down at the desk, turning on Jaylan's computer. Typing in the password Catherine had sent me, the screen flickered and I was into his main account.

A wave of exhilaration washed over me, my hands trembling as I opened his documents. Perhaps due to my decade-long attachment to Jaylan, the first thing I wanted to see was the house's security footage. What I saw completely shattered my perception of reality.

Not only did I witness myself, laying pristinely still in bed as if dead, but I also saw Zora, standing at the foot of my bed with our three children, pointing at my comatose form and whispering something unknown to them. Initially, the kids listened attentively, but soon their faces twisted in horror and they scattered in different directions.

A vile grin stretched across Zora's face at their reaction.

No wonder I hadn't seen my Monique and Probert for so long. They must have been avoiding this house, avoiding me. Even when they did visit, they clung to Zora, circling around her like she was their mother. Such a venomous witch she was. She wanted to erase me completely.

Whenever Jaylan returned home, he never once stopped by to see me. Instead, he would head straight to Zora's room, emerging only when the sun had risen. Even more disturbing were the intimate moments between them in the living room. Jaylan, stripped bare, sprawled on the sofa, while Zora knelt between his legs...

A wave of nausea surged through me. I grabbed the wastebasket, emptying my stomach into it.

In the mess, I spotted a used condom, which only intensified my revulsion. I retched until I collapsed on the floor in a fit of exhaustion.

With tears streaming down my face, I forced a laugh, echoing through the empty room.

My parents were right. This was the real Jaylan! The sordid, indulgent, greedy expressions on his face, his shameless postures.

I retched again, this time only bile came out.

My rational mind reminded me that I had other important things to do. Suppressing my disgust, I shakily closed the security footage, moving on to other folders. Some contained simple company data, others were locked behind encryption.

I clicked on a photo album, revealing a plethora of explicit photos featuring Jaylan and various women.

There were even old photos from old time when he was a stylist, a youthful man with an innocent look.

The videos had shattered my worldview, these photos obliterated it completely.

Was this really the Jaylan I knew? I had lost everything, betting on the wrong person.

What an actor he was, playing the part for ten long years.

He was not a gentleman, but a monster hiding behind a mask of respectability, the embodiment of debauchery.

In a fit of self-loathing, I slapped myself hard, the impact causing stars to dance before my eyes.

I had been so reckless, so naive, and I had paid the price. I'd almost lost my life.

Anger surged within me, a desire to destroy the man who had done this. But no, I had to keep these files. As repulsive as they were, I knew they could be useful one day.

I found a USB and transferred all the photos, videos, and accessible documents onto it.

Before the transfer was complete, I heard the distant sound of a car engine. Panic surged through me, and I sprinted out of the study and into my room, peering out the window. Sure enough, Jaylan's car was pulling up...