Chapter 111

Before Lazarus and I got married, it wasn't that easy to gain the trust of my parents, aunts, and other relatives for Lazarus.

Aunt Lauren almost filed a case against him. She had found out about what happened when I was just sixteen years old, that he raped me, and that's why he hadn't asked me to marry him yet. He wanted to clear everything before he'd let me into his troubled life.

I was not raped.

It was my fault that it happened.

The ecstasy. If I hadn't mixed the drug in his drink, then it wouldn't have made sense for him to take my virginity.

He was drugged; ecstasy was irresistible when it had full control of a person's body. I knew some effects of ecstasy that a person might experience.

Including paranoia, aggression, and psychosis. And more.

Muscle aches and stiffness, increased energy and confidence, sweating, increased body temperature, feelings of closeness to others, dilated pupils, loss of appetite, heightened sensations. Those were the effects I witnessed from him after almost twenty minutes of him swallowing the drink with ecstasy in it. I was observing him in that moment, and he was like a zombie, ready to devour a human brain.

He wasn't in his right mind.

So I helped him, I gave myself to him. I offered my body willingly because from the very beginning, it was undeniably my fault. I was weak and foolish.

I should have known that what I was about to mix in the drink was a drug. Who could have known? I had never seen a liquid drug before.

The effects of ecstasy would last approximately six hours. I looked it up after he used me. I left him there in his condo after six hours of being held by him in his own bed.

Yes, he held me, cradling my body as he fell into a deep sleep from exhaustion. His body was restless, like it had been overused.

We were both tired after making ourselves slaves to lust and drugs.

It wasn't rape because no matter how many times I try to forget about it and convince myself it was rape, there's another side of my brain, shouting, screaming, yelling, and repeatedly telling me that I loved what we did.

After that, what was supposed to be a one-night stand was followed by sex two more times in school.

I should have given him a chance only once, just to save him from the heat he was feeling, but why didn't I resist when the next thing happened between us?

Because I was starting to like it too, but I still had my doubts.

The day I discovered I was pregnant, and inevitably, he didn't listen to me, was the day I swore to be strong and brave for my baby. Years passed, and I never found a man who would love and satisfy me. Many tried, but they all ended up with broken hearts because my own son rejected them.

Certifiably, it wasn't me who rejected those men who were willing to take a chance on me as a single mother. I had the right to turn down my suitors, but I couldn't. It was my baby Luzon who would reject them preemptively. He was protective yet standoffish. The little monster would do everything he could—even things he couldn't do—to make the guys give up and abandon the chance to be my boyfriend. No man had his vibes and trust except for his hardcore and calming father.

The men would retreat and admit defeat.

I also remembered the day in Lazarus' own condo when he let us live there, knowing that my two-story house had burned down, leaving me with nothing but ashes. It happened a month after Luzon found and followed his daddy to a bank.

I can clearly state that it wasn't rape. The time he took me down on the dining table wasn't rape.

I eventually responded to his every thrust, moving my hips to follow the rhythm of his movement because the heat of lust had already arisen. I did fight back at first to stop him, why? Because I was angry at him for leaving me behind with the baby. I couldn't let that slide, I couldn't just forgive him. I was prone to anger, but unfortunately, the lust in me melted the ice of bitterness and antipathy for him.

Nevertheless, I couldn't accept for myself that I responded to him, so I just cried. Plus, his size was much bigger than before when we were in high school. It truly and deeply hurt me that time, but I didn't mention a single detail about it. I was embarrassed because he was right, I loved what he did, what we did, that's why I was wet, and not just because it was normal to be wet.

My whole body and the other half of my mind wanted him.

He was rough during sex, but in the end, he became gentle. Yes, I was unconscious after it happened, but I could sense how he carefully carried me from the dining table to his room.

He even dressed me while I was losing myself and consumed by sleep.

There was no such thing as rape. I was just confused with my addled mind, torn between anger and lust, that's all.

I fought against my parents, relatives, and aunts about it. They didn't meddle anymore, and they didn't file a case against Lazarus, so not even a second after he heard about it, he quickly demanded a hasty marriage. He said he didn't like long-term engagements.

I woke up the next morning and sat on the bed.

My gaze lowered to my three-month belly.

I was three months pregnant with baby number three. My baby Luzon was now twelve, and my baby Praise was five.

I panicked when I saw that Lazarus wasn't beside me. I was overthinking again, what if he left? He left because I had been so demanding and grumpy these past months.

What if he didn't love me anymore because I was gaining weight?

"Laz?" I called out at the slightly open door of our room, only to receive no answer. "Lazarus!"

I quickly turned to the bathroom door inside the room when it suddenly opened, and Lazarus immediately appeared, completely naked. He was soaking wet, with a few bubbles still clinging to various parts of his body. He didn't go out, he just opened the door for me to see him.

"What's wrong, baby?" he calmly asked while running his wet fingers through his dripping hair. "Are you hurt?"

Instead of looking at his face, I couldn't because he was flaunting his gentle maleness at me.

I averted my gaze when I saw that his gentle demeanor was slowly hardening.

I looked at Lazarus with pleading eyes, hoping that his abusive masculinity wouldn't manifest. "I thought you left me..."

"No, no, I won't leave you," he quickly assured, gesturing with his wet hand. "Come closer to me."

I slowly got up from the bed to go to where he was, in the bathroom.

While I was pregnant with Praise, I didn't want him. Now, it felt like I was going to die from thinking that he might find someone else who's even more beautiful and sexy, and he'd leave us.

"What then, baby? Tell me, please? I wanna know, please? Sorry in advance, okay?" he said, sounding like he was trying to plead as he approached me, not even bothering to grab the towel hanging nearby to cover himself.

"B-But what if you find another woman, Laz? My underarms are darkening because of my pregnancy, and they say that means I'm carrying a boy..." I couldn't help but blurt out due to the senseless thoughts running through my mind.

"What?" his dark brows furrowed as he held my arms, helping me stand up from the closed toilet lid. "What are you saying, Calista?"

"I told you, you don't want me anymore—"

"Arms up, baby, I wanna see your armpit," he ordered, completely calm.

"Okay..." I raised my arm, swallowing hard, nervous about what he might see.

"It's not even dark. I might as well give it a kiss," his calm and authoritative voice oozed confidence.

That made my gaze instantly drop to my exposed armpit.

It's true.

Silently, I watched as he leaned down and tilted his head to the side to kiss my clear-skinned armpit. I hadn't expected to see it like this; just last week it had dark spots. Desperately, I had tried to remove some lines and faint dark spots from it over the past few days. Timidly, I bought some underarm whitening cream, fearing that my darkening armpit might discourage Lazarus.

Almost three minutes later, Lazarus was still continuously kissing my armpit, lightly extending his tongue to taste the skin.

"Lazarus!" I scolded when he didn't stop, feeling ticklish due to what he was doing.

His wet lips slid from my armpit up to my exposed shoulder. Since I was wearing a spaghetti strap nightgown, he brought down my arm and proceeded to attack my neck.

My head involuntarily moved back as he suddenly pressed his wet face there, repeatedly kissing his favorite part of my neck.

Sliding his muscular arm around me, I kept my balance and just tilted my head to give him free access.

"Laz? How do I know if a man is loyal?" I asked, closing my eyes, feeling the wetness of his lips and tongue playing against the soft skin of my neck.

"A man is loyal if he eats his woman's vagina," his voice carried a very dangerous calmness. "You're overthinking, baby. I should eat that sweet down there immediately and prove to you that I will never leave you."

I was alarmed by the warning I heard in the tranquility of his baritone voice.

"No, not now, Lazarus," I gently pushed his wet broad chest, stopping him from kissing, licking, and sucking my neck, which had awakened my desire to face him. In a serious tone, I looked at him. "I just woke up, I haven't even gone to the bathroom yet, and besides, I'm pregnant, okay?"

He scratched the back of his head, like a boy apologizing for a mistake. "I'm sorry, I forgot about the baby."

"Even though the doctor said it's okay for something to happen between us while I'm pregnant, I'm still scared, Lazarus," I said, and I took the towel, putting it around his waist myself.

"I'm sorry..." he said, looking down.

"Get dressed, I'll just check on the kids," I commanded and tiptoed to give him a peck on his lips. I turned on my heel and walked out of the bathroom.

Before I could fully exit, I heard Lazarus mutter to himself.

"Why do you have to be so big? You're not cute anymore."

I just smiled to myself.

I was five months pregnant now, and it felt as quick and easy as taking a breath. I was craving for this—I didn't know what kind of fruit it was, but when Irithel gave me some, I got hooked and addicted.

Lazarus didn't know.

My cravings started at the end of the first trimester, and they were even stronger now that I was in my second trimester.

"What kind of fruit is this?" I asked, holding up the fruit, a slice stuck on my fork. It looked like a melon, but when I bought melon yesterday, I didn't like the taste.

This one was different, and it wasn't a normal melon. It tasted like the sweetest melon.

"It's the world's most expensive fruit as of this year, Cali my loves," she answered, very proud. "Yubari King Melon. That's the last one I bought from an auction in Japan, and the highest record price was ¥5 million. Don't worry, I'll buy more, maybe in two months? I have another trip to Japan."

My shoulders slumped when I realized that this was the last fruit I—by chance—got to eat.

In two months? I wouldn't be craving this anymore, since my cravings slowly subsided after the second trimester.

Where could we buy a Yubari King Melon? I didn't want to waste money just to eat such an expensive fruit. Why couldn't I just eat a normal melon?

I wanted to call Lazarus to buy me one, but it was impossible to find it here in the Philippines, and he was busy working, our babies were at school.

Maybe I would just let it pass until my cravings for Yubari King Melon subsided.

Days went by, and I guess it's been a week since I last had the fruit I was craving.

It's nine in the evening, and the babies are now sleeping soundly in their own room after watching their favorite horror movie. They didn't even seem afraid or frightened.

I'm in our room, waiting for Lazarus to come home. I couldn't help but cry on our bed because I really wanted to eat that Yubari King Melon.

I turned towards the door as it opened, revealing Lazarus carrying his things. I saw how his calm demeanor earlier turned into panic when he realized I was crying. He immediately came to me without hesitation.

"Cali, baby? What's wrong? Are you in pain? Tell me, where? I'll call the doctor," he held both my arms and gently stroked them, providing warmth as if trying to comfort me. "Calista, please, answer my question. I'm worried."

Tears continued to stream down my face as I looked into Lazarus' concerned eyes.

"I-I'm hungry, Lazi," I sobbed.