5
451words
Ironic.
We'd visited once before, browsing without buying.
A single apple cost$800—far beyond our means.
Others pushed overflowing carts; we didn't even take a basket.
At the candy aisle, Nathan gripped my hand,promising," Sissy,I'll make bank one day, and we'll come back."
"You'll buy whatever, no price tags!"
His sincerity moved me.
But knowing how hard money was to earn, I didn't want to pressure him.
"Just looking's fine. We're tourists at the import supermarket!"
It didn't cheer him up.
So I poked his cheek, kissed him.
"Tourists, right? Just enjoying."
He blushed, agreed quietly, and we left.
His acting was flawless. He must've cleared the place to fool me.
Now, pushing a cart, he was greeted by smiling customers.
A clerk called him" Boss."
He bought everything I'd lingered on before.
Pathetic.
I followed him home, watching him stock the fridge, arrange $800 apples neatly, and smile sweetly.
"Sissy, I'm done pretending."
"Silly girl, let's live the good life."
He spoke to the apples.
Standing opposite, I sobbed silently.
If I hadn't seen him on the cruise, I might've forgiven his deception.
Pretending to be poor wasn't a big deal.
But using his wealth to toy with women? That was vile.
I didn't want to see him anymore.
At 6 p.m., Nathan started cooking.
After washing a few peppers, his phone rang.
He wiped his hands, smiling at the caller ID.
But a minute later, he ripped off his apron, sprinting out.
He must've found out.
My body ached more.
The car headed toward the cruise.
Painful memories surged—electric shocks, familiar agony.
So dirty.
I followed Nathan, step by step. He stared at the ship, trembling.
The manager greeted him, smiling, then turned grim.
"Mr. Carter, Ms. Sissy...she might be dead."
Nathan, refusing to believe it, pummeled the manager's face.
"You dare curse Sissy?"
The manager, bruised and silent, knelt,repeating," I'm sorry...I'm sorry."
Nathan, unsatisfied, kicked him down, then collapsed himself, gasping.
"Sissy's not dead. Find her."
The manager stayed kneeling.
He'd interviewed me, assured me it was" just serving trays for rich folks, no escorting."
As the ship's head,he'd likely seen my body.
I watched Nathan's despair numbly.
He struggled to stand, only to fall again.
A phone call snapped him back.
I followed him to a damp, dark basement where a girl was locked up.
Nathan thought it was me.
He burst in, crying, tears and snot mixing.
"It's okay, Sissy,you're alive."
Trembling, he lifted the girl, brushing back her brittle hair.
It wasn't me.
Her face was swollen from slaps, horrific.
Nathan frowned, stepping back, but said as he left," Let her go."
"No more of this business."
