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A cheated-upon wife enacts a most delicious red revenge.
That's why when he asked me out three days later, I was thrilled. And just like that, I had my first boyfriend. How about that?
In the beginning, Akbar was wonderful. He was charming and generous, and always complimented me. The night we first made love is a night I shall never forget. I was falling in love with Akbar, and told my family I thought he might be the one for me. This saddened my parents, who told me that Akbar was Muslim, and not only that, he was also a Saudi. The most strict Muslims around. They make their women wear the burka all day and won't even allow female drivers in their country. My parents warned me about Akbar, but I wouldn't listen. Akbar and I continued seeing each other. I thought I had found a wonderful man who liked me for me, and I wasn't about to give him up. Everything was perfect, until Akbar began to change. He began to pressure me to change my religion, to leave Christianity for Islam. I had never given much thought to what being a Christian meant. I mainly went to church out of habit. Still, was I ready to abandon my faith? Absolutely not. I told Akbar that my Christian faith mattered to me, and that if he wanted to be with me, he had to accept me as I am. What did he do when I told him this? He smacked me hard across the face and called me an infidel slut and a kafir for rejecting Islam!
With tears in my eyes, I looked at the man I thought cared about me. Akbar's handsome face was a mask of rage. It's like I didn't know him at all. I walked away, and he shouted that I would regret it, that there was no place on earth where I could hide from him. I went home in tears, and my mother hugged me. I looked into her eyes and told her what Akbar had done. When my father came home, I told him what Akbar had done. Dad wanted to kill him, but mom persuaded us to go to the police. I went to bed, but I was unable to sleep. I thought about what Akbar had done to me, and how wonderful he used to be. Was it all a lie? That night, I got a call from an old friend I hadn't seen in a long time. Patrick Meilleur. This tall, good-looking young Black man who grew up next door to us in Orleans. His parents Guillaume and Regina Meilleur are from the island of Haiti. They own a restaurant in Vanier and they go to the big Haitian church downtown near the Rideau Shopping Center. We've been friends for a long time.
Patrick and I have been good friends for years. His family knows me and I know his family. I wanted him to go to Ottawa University with me but he opted for Seneca College in the City of Toronto, Ontario. I hadn't spoken to him in ages. Patrick excitedly told me about his graduation from the Police Foundations program at Seneca College. He also told me he'd gotten accepted at the Police College of Ottawa, hence why he was coming home. I was happy for him, since becoming a policeman was his dream. Before his parents went into the restaurant business in Ottawa, Patrick's father Guillaume was a police officer in Haiti. I was thrilled that Patrick was coming back, but also saddened. He sensed my mood and asked me what was up. I told him about Akbar, our whirlwind romance, and the disaster that happened tonight. Patrick reacted the same way my father did, he wanted to get Akbar! I told Patrick to calm down, that we were going to the police the next day.
The next morning, my parents and I went to the police station in downtown Ottawa.