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". Mother’s words hit me like a slap across the face. My stomach churned, and suddenly, the urge to cry became overwhelming. "I'm so sorry Mother," I whispered, my voice trembling as I fought back the tears gathering in my eyes, just waiting for a blink to spill over.. "Hurry up and get rid of it,” she said coldly before pressing on. “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, her lips curled in mockery as she glanced at my painting. "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 w
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
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
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