My Dad's Bestfriend novel Chapter 149

Jacob

As I paced back and forth in the dimly lit room, the early morning light barely making a dent in the heavy shadows, I felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me like a physical force. Sleep had eluded me, slipping through my grasp like sand through clenched fists, as thoughts of her, and only her, tormented my mind. Evelyn Fernandez—the woman, wrapped in indifference and fury, who seemed to had sworn to make my life a living hell for me. And indeed she was succeeding.

Like for real—Her blatant disregard for me, like I was some kind of contagious disease to be avoided at all costs, cut deeper than any knife. And as if it wasn’t enough, she chose to gallivant off with random, meaningless, stupid boys. It was evident—she wanted to torture me and she was clearly winning this game.

I was teetering on the edge of insanity, consumed by rage and desperation. But what recourse did I have? She was a locked door, impervious to reason or plea, reveling in the misery she inflicted upon me. I pushed her to the stage and now I had to suffer—there was no way out.

"Why don't you just confront her? Have a real conversation about your relationship," Bianca's voice shattered the heavy silence, her words piercing through the haze of my thoughts. "Stop tiptoeing around it like you're discussing the weather over tea. You can’t just avoid it!”

"I've tried," I confessed, my voice heavy. "But I can't rush it. I need time to gather my thoughts, to mend what I've broken. I want to take it slow, for both our sakes. But instead of giving a damn about me, she's out there with every Tom, Dick, and Harry. Can you believe it, Bee? That little vixen is not giving single flying fuck about me. I can’t fucking take it!”

To my astonishment, Bianca's response was a slow, deliberate murmur, "Perhaps she should..."

My blood boiled at her audacity. "What the fuck did you just say?" I demanded, my patience snapping like a brittle twig.

"Nothing," she shrugged it off with a laugh, "But listen to me. She's hurt, furious even. And what better way to lash out than by being in the arms of another? She wants to see you squirm, to feel the sting of your jealousy like a lash across your skin. So, if you want any chance of salvaging this mess, you need to stop playing into her hands. And for god's sake, make sure she doesn't wander into the arms of some lowlife. Heartbroken women are easy prey for predators. You need to fucking protect her, even if she sees you as the enemy."

"But she won't let me," I spat bitterly, frustration bubbling up like bile in my throat. "To her, I'm nothing but the villain in her twisted narrative.”

Bianca's words hit me like a slap in the face, each syllable laced with a biting truth that I had been desperately trying to ignore. "Because you broke her damn heart, you idiot," she snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a razor. "What did you expect, Jacob? A warm fuzzy hug and a kiss on the cheek? You screwed up, big time, and now you need to step up and fix it. Take your time, endure her actions, and find the right moment to make things right."

"You don't understand, Bianca," I sighed, “It's not as simple as convincing her. She's reveling in this twisted game, and the only way to win her back is to outplay her."

"What the hell are you talking about? This isn't some stupid video game—it’s a relationship,” Bianca retorted, her frustration palpable.

But she didn't comprehend the stakes, the burning desire clawing at my insides. "You won't get it," I dismissed her with a wave of my hand, ending the call before she could protest further.

"No wait—"

Alone in the dimly lit room, I tossed my phone onto the bed, its screen flickering in the darkness. I stripped off my shirt and headed for the bathroom, the cold water hitting my face like a wake-up call. My nerves were already on edge, my mind racing with the urgency of my mission.

I had to win Evelyn back before someone else swooped in to claim her. And if that meant resorting to tactics I never imagined, then so be it.

I knew I fucking broke her, that I should be begging for her forgiveness, pleading for another chance. But patience was a luxury I couldn't afford, not when every fiber of my being screamed for her touch, to feel her, to have her close and her legs spread before me on the bed— I burned for her, a fire raging out of control, consuming me from the inside out.

I needed to get her back. At any cost.

It was hard to even breathe when she wasn’t near me.