Francine’s POV
Realization and guilt had never hit me hard until now.
I guess it’s true then, that regret always waits at the end—not at the beginning.
Crying had been my breakfast, weeping had been my lunch, and sobbing was my dinner. Wailing and bawling in my room is enough to fill my empty heart as my midnight snack.
Wisdom is my first bestfriend. But it was lust who had torn me away from her, from her heart. I realized today that I never loved the men I have been with. It was only their body that I saw as my need and want, nothing more.
Being rich does not entirely bring you happiness. Even if I have a myriad of money, still, I haven’t yet found a man that will wholly show me what it is to have utter, pure happiness. Like how Mr. Giordano showed Wisdom.
I cannot hide the fact—and I wouldn’t deny either—that I am not jealous. I am envious of them two. For my bestfriend, who I once knew as the closest to a sister, is now in the sea of happiness together with her man.
I’m glad she didn’t come with Richard to Amsterdam. And I am also glad that Richard asked her forgiveness, but I have asked mine to him first. Amongst the three of us, I am indeed the Evil Queen who took Snow White’s prince away from her.
And I regret it.
I have tried ending my useless, dumb life. But the twins, the two brothers, told me that I couldn’t escape from my wrongdoings that easily.
They wanted me to repent like all mistresses with a brain and heart did. They want me to live my life as a woman who can show to the world that it is not too late to make them know that the great and rich Francine Cabello, whose beauty is comparable to Aphrodite, is no longer the Whore of Babylon.
That the whore is now like Mary Magdalene. A woman who had turned her flaws into good deeds, who has seen her sins as a way of showing that being good is always a choice despite your dirty hands.
But first, before I start my life from the beginning again, I would ask her forgiveness.
And I will kneel in front of Wisdom Linnea Weisz if I ever need to.
***
Wisdom’s POV
Francine is in front of me, crying. Wailing, and begging for forgiveness.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on or what the hell did she ate that made her ask for my forgiveness.
The people at the mall are staring at us, glaring at me. Is this one of her shows to make me look like an antagonist?
“Get off of me, Francine!”
But she just continued to cry and weep. “What is it this time? What the hell do you want?” I whispered.
Instead of answering my question, her fingers wrapped my ankle tightly, face almost kissing the sole of my shoes.
“Please, Francine,” I murmured. “Enough…”
She looked up at me, hoisted her messy and tear-soaked face. “That’s exactly what I’m doing Wisdom. I’m putting an end to all my wrong deeds since I know the time has come to put an end to my devilish horns from growing.”
She faced her back on me and lifted her shirt for a little. There, several scars that I can say are derived from a heavy whipping, are entirely visible especially with her smooth, expensive-looking skin.
But with Francine’s attire today…she looks more of a beggar, a street woman. A destitute being.
But still, she had been my bestfriend for a time. Her hands used to wrap mine while we’re strolling the mall. She was the sister I never had.
And all of those are nothing but a “was”.
“What do you mean, Francine?”
She smiled, laughed. I don’t know if it’s genuine or a show-off. “Forgive me, Wisdom. Please.”
I snorted. “You can slap me, drag me to the stairs by my hair, whip me in front of everyone or even strip me naked and write the word “whore” just below my breasts, I am entirely okay with that. Just forgive me, sister…”
Silence sang between us. And I, too, shed tears for this woman. This friend of mine who was stolen from me by envy and lust—and greed.
“Alright,” I replied.
Francine Cabello grinned. “Thank you.”
Then I slapped her so hard that her face directly landed on the floor. But she just hoisted her face to me in a matter of seconds and smiled again, “Alright.”
“I am still angry at you, Francine.” I told her the truth because there’s no use in lying anyway. I cannot contend with a liar by lying. “That’s why if you want my utter forgiveness,” I peered down at her, flipping my braid to my back. “Leave.”
“To where?” she asked.
“Just leave the country. And I shall bury deep in my heart all the diabolic things you’ve done.”
Francine blinked. I just continued to look down at her, “I promise.”
“So be it,” she answered. Then, even before I could blink, she placed a kiss on my right cheek. Just like what we used to do as a form of greeting. I tried to hold my tears. But, because of the people’s peering eyes, I just smiled at her and also placed a kiss on her left cheek—before walking away without turning back at her even for a heartbeat.
And, as Francine had said, I found out from her gay cousin, Mel, that she has indeed left for England in less than two days.
My former sister even left me a bouquet of lavender and orchids and red roses with a note, “Thank you, my sister.”
I just smiled while my pool of tears streamed down from the windows of my soul.
***
Dyana’s POV
Denver is still looking hot on my phone.
It’s as if I just took it yesterday, him and me naked in bed.
I pushed my finger deeper into my core, taking this matter with my own hands.
He may not see me as a girlfriend but I see myself as one towards him. And that new girlfriend of hers…I swear I’m much more talented on top of the bed compared to that virgin-looking woman.
I wash myself in the shower after I finish, bringing my phone with me so that I can still see Denver’s naked photo.
We used to bathe together. Here, in my condo’s bathroom. We used to do it in the shower as well, grinding me while I cleaned myself with soap.
Those were the good days that turned to good memories. Aside from our videos and pictures in my phone, all is but a fragment of our memories back when I was his woman of carnal lust.
I bathed in the cool waters of the evening shower when a random idea popped in my head that would make Denver be mine once again.
I searched for her name in my contact number, glad that I went through Denver’s contact list one of these days and I managed to get her number.
Without further ado, I sent to Wisdom Linnea Weisz the naked photos of me and Denver as we feast on each other’s bodies in my bed of crimson red.