CHAPTER THREE – MR. CUNNING
Now the next guy...
He was tall, dark, and undeniably handsome. The kind of man that could walk into a room and make hearts stutter. His jawline was carved like art, his voice—velvet, smooth, comforting, and dangerously inviting. When he smiled, it felt like the sun had personally chosen to shine only for me. You might be tempted to think, Ah, finally—this is Mr. Right.
But hold that thought.
Because sometimes, the devil doesn't come with horns and fire.
Sometimes, he shows up in the form of perfection.
And this one? He wasn't Mr. Right.
He was Mr. Cunning.
At first, everything felt like a fairytale. He knew exactly what to say, when to say it, and how to say it in a way that made me melt. He gave me attention like I was the only girl in the world. He opened doors, remembered little details, called me beautiful when I felt like a mess, and texted good morning before the sun even had time to rise.
But beneath all that sweetness… was rot.
His compliments were calculated.
His gestures rehearsed.
His love? Nothing but a game.
Because you see, Mr. Cunning doesn't come to love you. He comes to collect you. Just one more trophy on the shelf of broken hearts he's proudly built in his head. A walking red flag dressed in green.
But I didn't see it.
Not at first.
Why would I? He was everything I thought I wanted. He ticked every box. He did all the "right" things… at all the right times—and even the wrong ones too. Flowers for no reason, late-night calls, emotional vulnerability, promises of forever. He said all the right words, painted dreams of tomorrow, played the role of the perfect partner...
But it was all performance.
There was a method to his madness.
Because not all guys who are "nice" are genuinely kind.
And Mr. Too Nice? The one who seems flawless from the very start?
Be careful with him.
Sometimes the too nice ones are just too good at pretending.
And by the time the mask slips, it might already be too late.
That's the thing about Mr. Cunning—he doesn't give you reasons to doubt him at first. He builds trust only to shatter it. He listens not because he cares, but because it helps him learn how best to manipulate you. Every date, every call, every sweet message was part of his script, and I was just another scene.
And the worst part?
I let myself fall.
Hard.
I ignored the subtle signs. The moments where he'd turn cold for no reason, disappear for days, gaslight me into believing I was overreacting. He was charming, yes—but also calculated. Strategic. He knew exactly how far to go to keep me hooked and just how little to give to never truly commit.
It wasn't love.
It was a chase.
A conquest.
And when he finally had me—mind, body, heart—he ghosted like I never existed.
No explanation.
No goodbye.
Just a deafening silence that broke me in places I didn't even know existed.
That was the moment I realized… relationships are not to be rushed.
Love isn't built in a day, and just because someone shows you affection doesn't mean they have the right intention. There's a difference between a man who values you and a man who uses you.
Mr. Cunning taught me that.
The hard way.
He made me question my worth.
Doubt my instincts.
Blame myself for being too trusting, too open, too desperate for love.
But in the ruins he left behind, I found something he never expected.
Me.
And while the world tells you that Mr. Right is the one who says all the right things and looks like he walked out of a romance novel—know this:
Mr. Right is not always Mr. Nice.
And Mr. Too Nice is not always Mr. Right.
It took heartbreak to teach me that.
It took being used to understand value.
It took losing myself to finally find myself.
So, to the next woman reading this...
Watch out for the man who does too much too soon.
Because not all storms come with thunder.
Some wear a smile.