*THE ART OF DECEPTION* *Story by Klyrical Rhymes* *Part 5/5* If pain had a post address, Adrian Mwangi now lived there. He fell for the one woman who saw through his mask and burned it, with a smile. But let’s rewind, because Nairobi doesn’t tell stories straight. It prefers irony over clarity and heartbreak served with sarcasm. Two Weeks Earlier. Evelyn’s Apartment, Kilimani. Zawadi kicked off her heels like she was dropping emotional grenades. “So what’s the plan now, Lady Vengeance?” Evelyn swirled her tea like a villain sipping poison. “We take him down slowly. With elegance. Think Lupita with a blade.” Zawadi cackled. “I live for this season.” Evelyn’s face, however, wasn’t playful. Behind her calm was grief, the kind that doesn’t scream, but simmers. It had taken her days to cry, and when she finally did, it was so silent even her own mirror looked away. She hadn’t just loved Adrian. She’d trusted him. And trust, in her world, was more dangerous than desire. So she turned pain into strategy. Adrian saw Bianca approaching the boardroom. Enter Bianca. Yes, that Bianca. The ex with a PhD in pettiness and unfinished business. She waltzed into Adrian’s boardroom like karma in heels, portfolio in hand and revenge in her purse. “I heard you need damage control,” she purred. Adrian stared. “You’re applying for PR?” She smiled. “No. I’m applying to ruin you slowly, legally, and with a killer wardrobe.” Jackson, seated nearby, whispered, “This is better than Netflix.” Adrian ignored him. He was hemorrhaging respect, losing investors, and the media smelled blood. But the worst part? He couldn’t stop thinking about Evelyn. Not the woman he seduced, but the one who sat on the floor of her NGO office, cradling a child’s drawing like it was gold. She had integrity. And that made his betrayal lethal. Evelyn on a local station when she was asked about Adrian. “I don’t hate him,” she told the journalist, in a tone more terrifying than rage. “He’s just... a reflection of what happens when brilliance forgets to be kind.” The journalist blinked. “You’re... forgiving him?” Evelyn tilted her head. “Oh no. Forgiveness is for healed people. I’m just choosing not to bleed in public.” Twitter exploded. #softrevenge trended. Adrian watched it unfold like a man strapped to a chair, forced to witness his own funeral, served in bite-sized hashtags. The city sprawled below, loud and alive. But the rooftop was silent. Just the two of them. Evelyn wore black. Again. Like grief. Or power. Adrian arrived, not in a suit, but a simple hoodie. The man who once played god now just looked... human. “I came to say I’m sorry.” Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Do you want a sticker?” He laughed. “I deserve that.” She stepped closer. “No. You deserve worse. But I won’t give it to you.” “Why?” “Because you’re already living it,” she said. “I loved you, Adrian. With the parts of me that were still learning how to believe again. And you turned me into a case study.” He flinched. “Say something smart,” she challenged. “Come on. Give me a quote. A line. A speech.” But he had none. So she walked away. Again. But halfway down the stairs, he followed. He grabbed her arm. “Evelyn. Please.” She turned, fury sharp in her voice. “Do NOT touch me like I’m yours. You lost that privilege the minute you chose ego over honesty.” “I was scared,” he confessed. “For once in my life, I didn’t know how to win you. And that terrified me.” “Good,” she snapped. “Now you know how the rest of us feel, loving someone who might not choose you back.” “I do choose you.” She shook her head. “No. You choose to want me when it’s convenient. That’s not love. That’s selfishness with good branding.” There was silence,“I’m pregnant.” Pause. Rewind. Re-what? Evelyn stared him down. “I found out last week. No, I didn’t trap you. No, I’m not asking for anything. I just thought the man who built empires might want to know he created life too.” Adrian looked like his soul had been hacked. He opened his mouth but no words came. “You can leave now,” she whispered. And this time, he did. Evelyn stood before a crowd of women at her NGO launch event. “We’re not just teaching girls how to survive,” she said. “We’re teaching them how to win with integrity.” Thunderous applause. In the corner, unnoticed, Adrian watched. He wasn’t there to reclaim her. He was there because for once in his life, he wanted to witness greatness and not ruin it. And in his arms? A tiny baby barely three weeks old. His daughter. Evelyn had let him co parent, but not return. “You can be her father,” she’d said, “but not my man. That seat’s taken—by someone I haven’t met yet, but who won’t need to lie to love me.” Final Narration (Adrian’s voice): “They say love is a battlefield. But that’s a lie. Love is the truth that exposes who we really are. And me? I was a king of deception. Until she crowned me with consequences.” THE END. Or maybe... just the start of redemption.