Breaking Point.

As I strolled down my street one fateful Wednesday morning, en route to the tutorial center, a blue BMW pulled up beside me. Its tinted windows obscured the driver's identity. Moments later, the tinted glass slid down, unveiling a man in his thirties. With a bald head and a captivating smile, he instantly caught my attention.

"Hello, pretty," he greeted. "The morning sun seems too hot for you to be walking under. I wouldn't want you to melt. Why don't you hop in, and I'll take you wherever you're headed?" he offered.

"Good morning, sir," I replied politely. "You don't even know if you're going my route," I pointed out, continuing to walk while the car trailed slowly beside me.

"For a pretty girl like you, your route is automatically my route. Just come in. I don't bite," he insisted.

Under the blazing sun, with my shirt soaked around the neckline, the thought of the long distance to the bus stop weighed on me. Reluctantly, I decided it was best to accept his offer. I approached the other side of the car and got in. I settled into the luxurious leather seat, welcomed by the cool air conditioning and the song "Mr. Lonely" by Akon playing through the car stereo. I shut the door and strapped myself in for the ride.

"Are you lonely?" I teased, making a playful reference to the song he was listening to.

He smiled, turning to look at me. He had the most dazzling set of white teeth I had ever seen. Despite his slightly chubby frame, with a bit of protrusion around the stomach area, he was a good-looking man.

"I'm Stanley. I'm your neighbor, and I've been watching you for a very long time. In fact, to be sincere, I saw you coming out of your house, and I rushed out just to catch up with you because I've been meaning to have this moment," he responded.

I was taken aback by the revelation. Despite seeing the BMW around, I couldn't recall ever noticing him before.

"I'm Zizy. I'm heading to Uncle Ben's tutorial center at Ring Road. Is that your route?" I asked, choosing to ignore everything he had mentioned earlier.

"Yes, but even if it weren't, I already told you that your route is mine this morning," he reiterated with a smile, maintaining his earlier sentiment.

That's how a new friendship blossomed, and soon Stanley became my personal chauffeur, driving me to the lesson center and back every day. After a month, he asked me to be his girlfriend. Despite discovering he was 15 years older than me, I accepted, largely influenced by his consistent spoiling and the special treatment he had been showering me with during the past month.

Everything remained smooth until six months later, when Stanley's behavior shifted. He stopped dropping me off and picking me up, citing his busy schedule and early work hours as excuses. Communication became strained, as he frequently made excuses for not answering my calls or responding to text messages. It became exhausting trying to reach him, so eventually I gave up. For a whole month, we didn't speak or see each other.

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One day, a friend called and asked to meet up at Tantalizer restaurant on Ring Road. On arrival, he was nowhere to be found. I stepped outside the restaurant and stood by the road to call him. He apologized for running late and promised to join me soon.

As I stood outside waiting for my friend, my phone rang, and I pulled it out of my bag to check on the caller. Stanley's name flashed on the screen. I let out a sigh and returned the phone to my bag. The call ended, but he kept calling repeatedly. I knew exactly what it meant—he had spotted me.

My friend arrived, and we entered the restaurant. Throughout our time there, Stanley's incessant calls continued, threatening to drain my phone's battery if I didn't answer. He even sent a text message demanding that I report to his office immediately. I chose to ignore his messages and focus on my meeting instead. Despite the four-hour duration of our discussion, Stanley's calls persisted relentlessly.

After the meeting, I proceeded to pick up my dress from the tailor's, with my phone still ringing incessantly. Finally, I decided to answer, and I could sense Stanley's fury in his voice. After a brief exchange on the phone, I made the decision to meet him at his office to discuss the future of our relationship.

I arrived at his office to find Stanley drinking from a nearly empty bottle of alcohol, which was quite surprising as I knew him to be a non-drinker.

"How could you? How could you ignore my calls?" He asked, waving his finger in my face.

I glanced at him and sensed the rage building up. His body seemed to vibrate with intensity as he took steps toward me, prompting me to instinctively retreat a few steps backward.

"I really don't understand why you are getting all worked up. You've been doing the same to me for months. I only gave you a little taste of your own medicine."

"You're cheating on me. Am I dating a flirt?" he accused.

I couldn't believe Stanley could accuse me of cheating on him. The discovery broke my heart and without control, tears welled up in my eyes threatening to fall down my cheeks. "Please! I want to go home," I pleaded.

He walked towards me and held my hand "You are burning up. I'll go and get some medication from the pharmacy and then we will talk about this. Would you like me to buy some meat pie?"

I shook my head in response. He opened the door and stepped out, leaving it ajar. I waited for him to move farther away and gathered my bag, and I left.

That evening, he had the audacity to show up at my house. My brother informed me that I had a visitor downstairs, and when I came out, I found him waiting by his car, holding out some new sets of shoes and a handbag.

"All the gifts in the world won't mend what is broken, Stanley. It's over between us. Dating you was a mistake," I declared.

With those words hanging in the air, I turned and walked back into my house, ignoring his calls and pleas as I shut the door behind me, determined to move forward without him.