Tomorow will tell

—SAMANTHA—

After spending some time with Grandma, I finally left the Frost Villa. As soon as I walked outside, Maryjane rushed toward me, her face full of anticipation.

"How did it go?" she asked, searching my face for answers.

I let out a tired sigh. "I told you, nothing ever changes in that house."

Then, I briefly explained what had happened and how Ophelia stole the spotlight as usual. By the time I finished, my voice drained of energy.

Weakly, I said. "Just take me home, Mary."

Maryjane hissed, rolling her eyes. "Ugh, those Frosts, especially that witch, Ophelia! I swear, if you just give me the word, I’ll—"

I shook my head, cutting her off. And this made her angry, and she resorted to cursing. I let her.

I knew this was just her way of venting since I wouldn’t let her do anything reckless.

We got into the car, and I leaned my head against the seat, closing my eyes to escape reality for a little while.

The next thing I felt was someone shaking me gently.

"Samantha, wake up."

Blinking my eyes open, I realized we had arrived at the Frost mansion.

Maryjane turned to me with a serious expression. "Sammie, I’m going to say this again—leave this people. Get out of that toxic house. You don’t deserve this."

I sighed, looking away. "I can’t, Mary. I have to fulfill my promise to Gina."

Maryjane groaned in frustration, then rested her hands on the wheel as she slowly said. "Well, I have this odd feeling that you’ll be divorcing Zeke yourself very soon."

I let out a short, bitter laugh. "That won’t happen. Nothing will make me break my promise to Gina. I won’t let Amore grow up without a father."

Maryjane stared at me for a long moment before shaking her head in defeat. "Fine. But when that day comes, don’t say I didn’t say so."

I got out of the car, and Maryjane promised to come by tomorrow. I nodded, thanking her before heading inside the mansion.

Just as I was heading towards the entrance through the driveway, laughter and chatter drifted from the poolside.

I turned my head slightly and was stunned to find Zeke already at home, drinking with his friends. And Ophelia was right there beside him, leaning on him with a smug smile, her head resting on his shoulder.

I stiffened, my stomach twisting in unease. I didn’t want to deal with them tonight. Quickly, I turned away, picking up my pace.

But then—

"Samantha," Zeke’s cold, deep voice rang out. "Come back here!”

I stopped in my tracks. My heart sank.

I had a bad feeling.

But I had no choice.

Clenching my fists, I forced myself to walk over.

As I approached, Ophelia smiled sweetly—pretending to be oblivious—but I saw the mockery glimmer in her shiny brown eyes.

Zeke’s friends whispered among themselves, their voices carrying just enough for me to hear.

"God, she’s so plain."

"Does she even know how to dress?"

“With those bandages, she looks like a mommy. I'm scared…”

"I don’t get why she’s still around. She’s from the countryside—she has nothing!”

"But Ophelia? Now, she’s got class. She’s a famous designer. She's from a rich family and can actually help Zeke build his company."

I ignored them, keeping my face blank. "What do you want, Zeke?"

He leaned back in his chair, lazily glancing at me. "Peel some oranges."

A small frown formed on my lips. Zeke didn’t even like oranges.

Still, I silently did as I was told, picking a few from the plate and peeling them. When I finished, I placed them neatly on the tray in front of him.

But instead of taking them, Zeke tilted his head toward Ophelia. "Give them to her."

A wave of humiliation washed over me.

I swallowed hard as Zeke’s friends chuckled, whispering about how pathetic I looked.

Ophelia sighed dramatically. "Oh, Zeke, you didn't have to trouble Sam for me.” She reached out and took the plate anyway, playing the bigger person.

I turned to leave, wanting to get away from this circus.

But—

"Stop," Zeke ordered.

I stopped but didn’t turn around.

"Go inside and get a blanket," he said lazily again. "Ophelia’s cold."

This evil son of a bitch!

My fists clenched.

They wanted to see me break. They wanted a reaction.

But I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Without a word, I walked back inside the mansion, grabbed a blanket, and returned.

Zeke took it from me without even looking at me. Then, with the gentlest touch, he draped it over Ophelia’s shoulders.

"Better?" he asked softly.

Ophelia nodded, casting me a fleeting smirk.

I turned away again.

But—

"Pour me a drink," Zeke ordered.

My patience was razor-thin now, but I kept my face neutral. With steady hands, I picked up the bottle, poured the drink, and handed it to him.

Zeke took the glass from me.

Then, without warning—

He ruthlessly splashed it in my face.

I gasped.

The ice-cold liquid soaked my clothes, dripping down my skin as I stood there, frozen.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, a loud peal of snickering.

His friends howled, mocking me even more.

"Wow. She really takes anything, huh?"

"How embarrassing."

"She’s so out of Zeke’s league. It’s obvious he loves Ophelia more.”

“True. Yet the country bumkin wouldn't leave Zeke and still clings to him like a bug, she's trying so hard to catch his attention,” sneered the young fine man sitting opposite Zeke.

That was Michael, Zeke’s best friend.

My hands hung awkwardly at my sides. My body trembled, not from the cold, but from something far worse.

Humiliation.

Pain.

And maybe, just maybe—

The last of my patience slipping away.

I stood there, feeling the sting of their laughter gnawing at my insides, my wet clothes clinging to my skin like a reminder of how small I felt in their eyes.

The coldness of the drink on my skin didn’t compare to the chill in the air between me and Zeke, but somehow, it was enough to make me feel like an outsider in my own home.

I didn’t move. I didn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me break down. My hands were clenched into fists at my sides, and my mind screamed to leave, to escape. But I couldn’t—there was something deep inside me that refused to give them the pleasure of seeing me run. I was better than that, even if it didn’t feel like it right now.

Zeke’s friends continued to laugh, their voices carrying through the air, each comment sharper than the last. I tried to block them out, focusing on the ground beneath me, forcing myself to breathe evenly.

"She really is pathetic," one of them said, and I could feel my chest tighten in response.

"Ophelia’s definitely the better choice for him," another chimed in. "I mean, look at her. She’s everything a man wants, unlike the poor loser. Who would want her?”

I looked over at Ophelia, still leaning into Zeke, a satisfied smile playing at her lips. She met my gaze for just a moment, her eyes full of something I couldn’t quite place—triumph, maybe. Or maybe it was mock pity. It didn’t matter. I didn’t care what she thought anymore. I was beyond that.

I forced myself to look away from her, but Zeke’s eyes caught mine. There was something cold, almost calculating in his gaze, as though he enjoyed watching me suffer.

"You’re a joke, Samantha," Zeke’s voice broke through my thoughts, low and almost cruel. "You know that, right?"

I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep from responding. He wasn’t worth my anger. Not anymore.

Instead, I turned, slowly making my way toward the house. I could feel their eyes on me, the weight of their stares burning into my back. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could pretend it didn’t bother me. How much longer can I hold in all the pain and humiliation.

The weight of everything; of Zeke, of Ophelia, of the Frost family and their expectations—hung heavy on my shoulders.

I wasn’t sure how much longer I could carry it.

But for now, all I could do was keep moving forward, even if it felt like I was walking through a storm with no end in sight.

Tomorrow will tell.