Tip-toeing through the room looking for Zayn. I can hear my sister's voice echoing in the next room in front of me. I decided to make some silent runs and prevent my hill from making a sound against the tiles.
Almost at the edge of entering the room, I could hear my sister's voice. "You have feelings for me? I already know you made it so obvious," I move closer to stay at the entrance to hear clearly and see who she's speaking with. "Only a dense fool like my sister wouldn't realize," what I heard shattered my heart. "I thought it was just a phase and overlooked your cute crush. But how dare you?'' She takes two steps forward, closing the space between them. "How any of you and Emma are so similar? Why do you both not know your place?" her voice rang out with anger, each word a sharp dagger cutting through the air. Her words echoed in the room. "You desire the things you can't have and create a mess…" her voice cut when she realized my presence from the entrance, a look of tension gripped over her. "Emma," my husband's mouth became wide open without even having the strength to close it. My sister rushed out with anger radiating in her, thinking I was the one who tried to ruin her company with my husband trying to run after her. "It's not true, right?" He pursed from going after her. "There is no way you would do this to me right?" he inhaled sharply moving closer to me. "Has anyone ever told you it's rude to listen to other people's conversation?" His deep voice cuts through the silent space. Interrupting my thoughts in the process. "I meant to tell you today," he let out the envelope in his hand to me, telling me to read it. As I unfolded the paper he handed me, my heart sank. It was a divorce letter, neatly typed out. Shock gripped me as I came to realize his reasons for wanting to end our marriage. Tears welled up in my eyes as I struggled to comprehend the sudden unraveling of our life together. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Why did you marry me if you were going to do this? So you could be by Elena's side? Just because of that?" He shook off his head disagreeing with me. "Because I pitied you." "What?" I was shocked when he mentioned the word 'pitied.' "You worked hard to win your parent's favor," he slid his hand into his pocket. "And you were happy with whatever they gave you. You were like myself, like me, you were a pitiful soul." Tears fill my eyes but I rub them off. I was tired of crying. Tired of chasing after a man that didn't want me. "How dare you take pity on me? You have no idea how hard I work for my life, who gave you the right to pity me? Who gave you the right?" I let out some punches on his chest. "Am sorry, Emma." "Stop it!" I exclaimed, dropping the letter on the floor. My heart leaped into my throat as I caught the sight of the police through the corner of the room. Panic surged through my veins, and without a second thought, I dashed away. Adrenaline coursed through my body, urging me to flee as fast as I could. Every footstep felt like thunder, echoing in the confines of my mind. I knew I had to escape, otherwise I would rot inside the jail. My only chance is to reach my car and disappear into my car before they catch me. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably as I gripped the steering wheel with trembling hands. The weight of betrayal pressed down on my chest like a ton of bricks, each breath a struggle against the suffocating reality of my situation. How could my mother and Zayn do this to me? I had always believed in family, in loyalty, but now those ideals felt like nothing more than shattered illusions. My own mother had thrown me to the wolves to protect her precious daughter's company, leaving me to face the consequences of her lies alone. But now, as I sat alone in my car, the world around me felt empty and void of any hope. Where could I go? I had no plan, no destination in mind. I was just running, running away from the pain, the betrayal, the crushing weight of it all. My phone began to ring, I hesitated before answering it after seeing it my mother. "Mother," my voice wavered, betraying the turmoil raging within me. 'Where are you, Emma?" her voice washed over me like a bittersweet tide. "Mother, why are you doing this to me? I didn't do anything wrong," I asked, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. "Now is not the time to be emotional. If words get out to the public, we don't know what will happen," there is a pregnant pause on the other end of the line, filled with the weight of unspoken truths. "You should repay my kindness with this. I took you in when you were a homeless orphan," I closed my eyes, willing the tears to stop, but they floured unabated, a relentless torrent of pain. There was another pause, this one heavier than the last, before she finally spoke again. "I'm sorry for the harsh words. Who else can I ask for help? You're the only one, Emma," her words cut through me like a knife, reopening wounds I had thought long healed. Hearing this makes fresh hot tears stream down my face, each one a tiny explosion of emotion that I can contain. My lips trembling and sore, felt swollen from the countless times I had bitten them, trying to stifle the sound of my grief. "The attorney will settle the rest. If you promise to return the money and reflect you won't even get probation. And I'll pay the fine for you." Her words struck like a physical blow, leaving me reeling, unable to respond. I blinked rapidly trying to clear my eyes enough to see the road. "Emma, please? We're family, after all," the word family pierced through me like a knife. I know I have long fallen for that word but not anymore. I can't believe she had turned my own words against me, twisting them into weapons. I tried to blink away the tears, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My lip throbbed where I had bitten down hard, trying to stifle my sobs. The taste of blood was sharp on my tongue, mingling with the salt of my tears. Without realizing it, I had approached an intersection. The traffic light had turned red, but my distracted mind didn’t register the change. It wasn’t until I was almost in the middle of the intersection that I noticed the red light. Panic surged through me, and I instinctively turned the wheel to the left, desperate to avoid running the light. In that split second, everything happened too fast and too slow all at once. The blaring horn of a lorry filled my ears, and I glanced to my side just in time to see its massive form barreling toward me. There was no time to react. The impact was violent, a thunderous crash that reverberated through my entire body. The car crumpled around me, metal screeching and glass shattering. Pain exploded in my head, and the world spun into a dizzying blur of lights and darkness. My last coherent thought was a desperate, fractured plea: “Please, no…” Then everything went black.I woke slowly, groggy and disoriented, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling my nostrils. The soft beeping of machines was a constant, steady rhythm, a reminder that I was still alive. My body ached all over, a dull, persistent pain that seemed to come from everywhere at once. I tried to shift slightly, wincing as a sharp pain shot through my side. My eyes fluttered open, the harsh overhead lights making me squint. The room was a blur of white walls and medical equipment. It took me a moment to remember where I was and what had happened—the accident, the lorry, the crash. As my vision cleared, I noticed a familiar figure standing at the foot of my bed. My mother. For a moment, a flicker of hope sparked within me. Maybe she had come to apologize, to show some semblance of care. But the look in her eyes was cold, calculating, devoid of any warmth. She approached the bed, her steps deliberate and slow. My heart pounded in my chest, the beeping of the monitor quickening in respons
The truth is, I really can't believe this. I was not a good girl. I remembered my mistress. She was a stern but kind woman, with a heart much softer than her demeanor suggested. She had a way of making us all feel seen and valued, even when the world outside seemed to overlook us. It all began one afternoon, she called me into her small, cluttered office, the air filled with the scent of old books and the faint aroma of lavender from the sachets she kept in her drawers. "Sit down, dear," she said, her voice gentle but firm. I took a seat, my small legs dangling off the chair. "Is something wrong, Mistress?" I asked, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and curiosity because I didn't know what have done this time. She smiled, the lines on her face softening. "No, Emma. Nothing is wrong. Everything is alright, I just want to talk to you about something important." I nodded, my eyes wide with anticipation. "You're a good girl, Emma," she began, her gaze steady and warm. "A
Standing in the living room, I faced my mother, or rather, the woman who had raised me. My heart was a fortress of ice, my words sharpened by the memo of betrayal. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What? Say it again," her hand ran through her hair and then down to her neck, a nervous habit I'd want to see from now on. "I'm not marrying Zayn," I said, my voice cold. Hearing this, she sat her glass of water down, her hands shaking slightly. Her face hardened with her eyes flashing with anger. "I feel under the weather." A flicker of confusion crosses her face, a rare crack in her otherwise impenetrable facade. She blinked, taken aback by my sudden coldness. Her gaze shifted momentarily, and she noticed the maid stand silently by the doorway, a witness of our fractured exchange. "Go get me some chicken. I'll boil it for dinner." She instructed the maid, her voice unnaturally steady. The maid nodded and quietly exited the room, leaving us in a sense of silence. "Don't you
Sitting on my bed, my mother and sister's cutting words still fresh in my mind, I felt a surge of determination. They had treated me with such contempt, and I was done being a scapegoat.My finger hovered over my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I found the name I was looking for, Mia. Not only was she a good friend, but she was also a reporter and the cousin of my sister's boyfriend, Amory.I took a deep breath and pressed the call button. After a few rings, Mia picked up."Hey! Long time no talk," she said cheerfully."Hey, Mia. It's me," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "When are you free? I need to talk to you about something important.""Is everything okay?" she asked, cover creeping into her voice. "Not really," I admitted. "But I'd rather explain in person. Can we meet at that little restaurant downtown? The one we used to go to.""Sure, I can be there in an hour," she agreed without hesitation. "See you soon."Hanging up the phone, I felt a mix of nervousn
With the information in hand, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. I would meet Amory first, charm him, and set my plan into motion. They had underestimated me for too long, it was time for them to face the consequences of their actions. The next day, I dressed carefully, choosing an outfit that was elegant yet approachable. I arrived at the Noelle hotel well before 4 pm and found a spot where I could watch for Amory Without being seen. My heart pounded as I waited, determined to make my move. At 3:45 pm, I saw him walk into the hotel's luxurious lobby. He was tall, with a hair of quiet confidence. My pulse quickened. This was a chance. I watched as he sat down in one of the plush armchairs, glancing occasionally at his phone. Taking a deep breath, I approached him. My feet felt heavy with fear, but I forced myself to move forward. "Hello, Amory. Could I sit for a second?" I asked, flashing a polite smile. Amory looked up in surprise. "Emma?" Hearing this sends down a mix
"What? Don't you know you're no longer our family when you get married off? You should think about your family now that you're married. You shouldn't be so greedy". "I'm so sorry Mother," l lost all my appetite for a smile. Loads of water are already gathering in my eyes waiting for a blink for them to drop. "Hurry up and get rid of it, we don't want anyone to think our exhibition is lousy, " she turned to take her leave. "That's so harsh mother," Elena also turned, forming her lips to make a mockery of me. "Instead of looking at the painting, can't you see how I feel? Sure, I may not be up to your standard, but I worked so hard on it with all my heart," I spurted out as tears rolled down my cheeks. "Hey listen, you were working on that painting while you should've been working harder. That's why I was upset." "I'm sorry. I misunderstood you. It's for a good cause, so I'm doing my best and I won't disappoint you," I retorted, trying to find her favor. "Let me know if you
Have you ever felt like your heart has been put in a mincer? That is how I feel right now looking at them. I feel like my heart has been shredded into pieces. I wanted to run away. To look away, but I don't want him to see me feeling jealous of him. Unfortunately, Amory's phone rang, giving me the chance to leave the room. Feeling a lump form in my throat, I excused myself to the bathroom, needing a moment to compose myself. As I splashed cool water on my face, I couldn't share the feeling of inadequacy that gnawed at me, wondering all over my sister's words. As I hurried out of the bathroom, my mind still swirling with emotions, I failed to notice the figure approaching from the opposite direction. Before I could react, I collided with someone, nearly stumbling backward in surprise. Looking up, I find myself face-to-face with Amory. His eyes widened momentarily in shock before softening with concern. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he exclaimed, reaching out to steady me. His touch w
With my heart racing, I follow the officers, determined to uncover the source of the disturbance. As I rounded the corner, my breath caught in my throat when I saw the appearance of someone lashing out, slapping someone. Someone familiar, someone I never expected to see in such a predicament with a force that echoed through the room. It was my mother who was being slapped by one of her customers, Mrs Rodriquez. Shock and disbelief washed over me as I struggled to make sense of the scene unfolding before my eyes. How could this be happening? What had led my own mother to be slapped by someone not up to her level as she always claimed? Shock and horror coursed through me as I watched my mother stagger backward, her hand flying to her cheek in disbelief as she collapsed within a second with her assistant manager gripping her to stand. "The police will find out. What should I do?" I read the words forming on her lips. She whispers to her manager's eardrum. I can see the look o