The Weight of Lies

Sensitive content: Infidelity, manipulation, emotional betrayal and sexual undertones.

He was so used to getting away with everything - a typical seducer, player, heartbreaker, traitor, and conman. He viewed women as prey, objects to satisfy his desires. And there she was, walking towards him: a graceful stranger. Her golden mane swayed with the rhythm of her elegant stride, the wind playing with the tips of her hair, and the sway of her hips drawing attention like a magnet. He stepped towards her, ready for his next conquest.

She stopped at a cafe, glancing at the signs, when she felt a slight bump. “Oh, I’m so sorry," came a voice from behind. She turned and gave him a faint smile. He expected more - maybe a deeper interaction? "God, I hope she speaks English," he thought.

Then, to his surprise, he noticed her French accent as she ordered a coffee.

"Yes!" he rejoiced inwardly. He quickly pulled out his phone and dusted off his French using Google Translate.

Meanwhile, the young lady carried her delicious-looking coffee to a table. She rummaged through her handbag, pulled out a book, and craved a moment to herself. He never imagined he could be rejected. "Je suis désolé pour le malentendu," he said in broken French and brazenly sat down next to her. "Qu'est-ce que tu lis? - What are you reading?" he asked.

The girl raised an eyebrow meaningfully, glanced at the object in her hand, looked back at the stranger, and, with absolute calmness, replied, "A book."

"Sarcastic and clever," he thought, excellent. He'd heard about this - French women had a fiery temperament - but he wasn't deterred. It was a challenge, and he loved challenges; they boosted his fragile ego. He chuckled nervously. "Puis-je t'inviter à prendre un café? - Would you like me to order a coffee for you?"

"That's enough," she said coldly, slamming her book shut. "Your French is dreadful, and your stupidity knows no bounds. We're in a café, and I've already paid for my coffee. How do you plan to invite me for one? Will you hand me some change from your pocket, and we'll pretend you bought it for me? What do you want from me? I'm tired of men like you!" She pierced him with a sharp gaze from head to toe. "I know what you're after. You don't care about what I'm reading; you care about what's under my skirt. I'm not naive, and I'm not fifteen!"

His mouth fell slightly open, the intense heat from her words slowly melting him, leaving him disoriented. "That's not true," he replied. "I was intrigued by your accent. I used to study in Paris years ago and wanted to return, but it didn't work out." She almost believed his little lie, and for a second, she might have felt foolish, but she wasn't giving in so easily. She crossed one leg over the other and leaned across the table towards him.

"Look at yourself, Casanova. You've got a freshly ironed shirt, you smell like fabric softener, and it was impossible not to notice the family photo on your phone's wallpaper. Whatever this is about, you should ask yourself if your partner would appreciate you hanging around cafés, lusting after a French lap."

She was so direct; no woman had ever spoken to him like that before. Part of him was offended, but another part was drawn to her like a magnet.

"Consider this a speed date; your time is up," she added, glancing seriously at her watch. "Try finding another victim for the evening," she said as she reopened her book, determined to continue, but the man broke the silence.

"I'm David," he finally said. "You can't just judge me like that. The photo on my phone is of my sister and niece."

His words slowly caught her attention, though she didn't show it. "Can't a man iron his shirt or add fabric softener to the wash?" he quipped with a charming smile, straightening his shoulders as if, for a brief moment, he was a proud peacock. He was pleased, thinking he had salvaged the situation.

“Show me that picture again,” the blonde said. He couldn’t resist. He handed her the phone, thinking he’d won, imagining what he could do with her alluring body. She bit her lip seductively while still looking at the wallpaper on his phone. She glanced in his direction for a moment and then back at the screen.

A broad smile spread across her face as she leaned towards him. “Tell me, are you from around here?” she whispered seductively. “Uh, yes, I live nearby,” he replied, clearly flustered.

What kind of game was this? One minute, she wanted him; the next, she didn’t. He had years of experience, but this was unfamiliar. “Would you like to sit with a glass of wine tonight, get to know me better, and then we could go to your place?” “Uh, I’d really love that, yes!” he breathed, and after a brief pause, added, “But how about we go to a hotel instead?”

He crossed his legs nervously, trying to conceal the pressure in his trousers. “You live with your sister, don’t you?” she asked. “Why else wouldn’t you want to take me to your place? You know, you are such a hunk.” she flattered him, waving her hand with a smile. That wave caught the attention of a petite redhead who had just walked into the café. “David, what a stroke of luck! Your sister’s here. We can ask her if she wouldn’t mind staying elsewhere tonight.”

David froze, his heart pounding. “What the hell…” He caught sight of the redhead approaching the table from the corner of his eye. It was Elowen, his girlfriend, while the French beauty still sat across from him with her hand raised, making sure to draw even more attention to herself. “Damn, no,” he thought. “What a stroke of luck, darling, that your sister is here,” she announced loudly, dripping with sarcasm, clearly wanting to rub it in while ensuring everyone around them heard.

The blonde tucked her book back into her bag, slid her chair away, and kissed the redhead on both cheeks. “Good luck, Elowen, stay strong. I told you he was a jerk,” she said before walking over to sit at another table a few feet away.

David was dumbfounded. “How do these two even know each other? What the hell is going on?” he thought. “Sweetheart, I swear, this mess has a completely innocent explanation!” “Really?” Elowen replied, her tone icy. “I’m all ears.”

He didn’t know what to say. He began improvising, turning crimson as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. “That French woman, she sat down next to me and started harassing me, I swear!” He sighed, almost as if he didn’t believe himself. “It was terrible; she was trying to seduce me, inviting me to a hotel, even though she saw your picture on my phone.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” came the cynical reply. “That’s enough, darling. I don’t have the energy for your excuses anymore. I’ve long known that you use your testosterone to think instead of your brain. Sabine just confirmed it for me – I don’t know any man who could resist her.” She sighed. “Stop lying to me. I’ve been watching the whole time, and it’s clear to me you didn’t approach her to practise your French, nor did you approach any other woman for that matter.”

He just sat there, unable to speak. He’d been caught; any further lie would only worsen it. He didn’t feel ashamed, nor was he hurt. His mind was racing with excuses and ways to salvage the situation, but none seemed good enough. “You’re a disgusting, narcissistic liar, and I hope you rot in hell,” Elowen declared, her voice trembling with disappointment before storming out.

David sat there in the café, his face buried in his hands. Elowen had left, and her final words still echoed in his mind: “You’re a disgusting, narcissistic liar.” He realised it wasn’t just the end of their relationship but the loss of something far more precious – the trust of his daughter, Anna.

In the past, he’d never had an issue with Anna. She’d seen him as a hero, a loving father. But now, with Elowen revealing his true nature, he was sure that even his daughter would turn her back on him.

He knew that Anna had always looked up to him as a role model, and now that her mother had decided to leave, how long would it take before she realised what kind of father she truly had?

He returned home and sat down on the sofa in his empty flat, surrounded by a silence that suffocated him. Elowen had left, and she had taken their daughter with her. It was the first time he truly understood how empty his life was without them. His heart pounded heavily in his chest, and every breath felt painful, weighed down by a mountain of guilt.

How had it come to this? How had he let things go so far? All those years pretending to be a man in control – the seducer, the deceiver, the one who always knew how to get what he wanted. But now? Now, he was just a man who had lost everything he had ever loved.

He thought of Anna, her innocent laughter and how she used to cling to him when she was little. He loved her more than anything else in the world. And yet, he had lost her.

He loved them both. He realised that now, but it was too late. Her patience, her kindness – all of it destroyed by his foolishness, by his irresponsibility. She had warned him; she had seen it coming. She knew he would make a mistake that would ruin everything they had built together. And he hadn’t listened. He had been so stupid.

“God,” he whispered into the silence. “What have I done?”

He wanted to turn back time. Every lie, every betrayal, every flirtation he’d dismissed as a harmless game. Now he saw that it was a game that had cost him everything. And it wasn’t just about losing Elowen and Anna. He had lost himself. He hated himself. He hated every part of the man he had become.

“Why did I do it?” he asked himself, his head in his hands. The tears he had long held back were now streaming down his face. For the first time in his life, he cried. He cried because he realised he was a broken man. He cried because he knew there was no way back. He could beg for her forgiveness, but Elowen would never see him the same way again. And in his daughter’s eyes, he would always be a liar.

Despair grew within him, and he got up, pacing around the flat like a caged animal. “I have to fix this. I have to get them back,” he whispered to himself, but deep down, he knew he had no plan, no hope. He was a man who had lost his way, a man who wanted to right all his wrongs but had no idea where to begin.

“Please,” he whispered into the empty room. “Please, give me a chance to make it right. I love you; I love you both. For God's sake, how could I have been so blind?”

He collapsed to his knees, his body shaking with sobs. He hated himself for what he had done. All the lies, all the deceit – they weighed on him like sins he carried on his shoulders. He wanted to turn back time. He wanted another chance to be the man his family deserved. But it was too late.

Flashes of moments he had taken for granted ran through his mind – Elowen gently kissing him on the cheek each morning, Anna sitting in the living room just yesterday, drawing on the floor, her big eyes lifting to meet his as he entered. “One day, you'll be a great artist,” he used to tell her. He loved it when she drew him pictures, which he proudly hung on the fridge. All of it was lost because of his foolishness. And now it seemed that even if he screamed and begged for forgiveness, no one would listen anymore.

He was a broken man who had lost everything because of his own stupidity. He had traded the treasure he had for fleeting pleasures. And he knew he would never get back the one thing that mattered most – the love of his family.

The once charming seducer had become an emotionally shattered man. He had lost his family, and slowly, he was losing himself. “I’m sorry,” he whispered one last time, but the emptiness swallowed his words. 

We are all the architects of our own destiny.