CHAPTER FIVE: Reality.

PRESENT

“So, that’s why you quit your job?” Her grandmother’s voice cut through the brewing silence like a chopping knife.

“Yes.” Niya huffed, perplexed. Her brows pulled up, then she quickly averted her gaze, letting it drift somewhere past Ma Phil.

There was a long pause. No sound came from either of them as if they were ready to pounce on the first to breathe a word. Finally, Niya spoke.

“It was killing me. And it’s not like I had a choice.” Her eyes finally met her grandmother’s, and something flickered in them. 

Something new that Ma Phil had never seen before. And for the first time, she looked away. Ran her wrinkled fingers through the thick, matted fur of her ugly, puffed-up cat, before her voice dropped to a low murmur, “Since when do you get to make such decisions?” 

Niya swallowed, but before she could answer, Ma Phil slurred, interrupting her. “You’re still under my roof, Niya. I’m the one who’s been here, making sure we didn’t lose this house when your father died.”

Niya felt a lump form in her throat at the mention of her father. Months had passed since his death, yet the ache still remained in her chest, as fresh as the day she lost him.

“I know.” She made the best decision as she inhaled deeply. “I’ve never forgotten that. But—”

“But nothing, Shaniya!”

Shaniya…!

A sudden chill wrapped around her, though the room was warm. The earthy and crisp scent curled around her, weaving into her breath. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. She whipped around quickly, her eyes darting over her shoulder, scanning the room.

No one.

Her fingers twitched against her sides. Her mind desperately grasping for an answer, but it was like reaching into fog, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

Niya refused to let it matter.

Alex was the last person she wanted to think about. He didn’t deserve her thoughts.

Although the scent was gone, it felt like, somehow, he was still here.

Now all she could think about was a young woman who thought she could do better, be better. That if she just worked hard enough, sacrificed enough, she could lift her family out of their struggles. That love and kindness would always be enough.

That young woman who had dreams ready to be chased. She wanted to write. She wanted to be free.

But that young woman was naïve. She thought giving everything she had would make a difference. That if she just endured, she could fix everything.

She had tried, but she was never enough.

Niya clenched her jaw, her fingers balling into a painless fist.

“...think again,” her grandmother's voice brings her out of her head. “You got yourself into this, and I'm not going to sit and watch you throw around the blame. You owe me.”

Owe her?

The words sent a ripple of disbelief through Niya. Her nails bit into her palms as she forced herself to breathe. She’d already sacrificed so much. The hospital bills. The loans. It had all fallen on her shoulders. And still, somehow, she was the villain?

“You gave May to him like I was nothing,” Niya's voice broke in-between words. The words burned her throat, but she needed them out anyway. “How could you replace me so easily?”

Ma Phil leaned forward, startling the cat from her lap. “I kept you out of the streets for so long and you quit your job only a few days after meeting a man? How shameless.”

“You’re my grandmother!” Niya’s croaked. “I—I didn’t have any other choice—”

Ma Phil lifted a gnarled finger, shutting her up. “You thought Alex was going to give you a life?” She shook her head, a dark chuckle rumbled in her chest. “You thought you’d be everything with him? Oh, look at you.”

Anger bubbled within Niya. “You’re the one who told me to marry him, Ma!” Her voice rose before she could stop it. 

She could take the disappointment and the insults. But the mockery? The way Ma Phil flipped everything to make her the fool? No.

“You told me that there was no other way,” her voice tore through the space between them. Her hands shot up to her scalp, fingers tangling in her hair, painfully pulling to ground herself against the rage brewing inside her. Her eyes burned as they widened, vision blurring with tears that spilled freely down her cheeks. “You pushed me into this.”

The subsconscious yearning at Alex's office to the blankness in his eyes at the wedding, the empty cathedral that echoed with vows that meant nothing. The promises, lies dressed up as salvation. The way Niya had convinced herself it was all worth it to keep her family safe.

But now it all felt like a mistake.

And yet, deep down, hadn’t she already wanted him? Hadn’t she been willing, long before she was forced? Maybe that was the cruelest part of all as she realized she'd been a fool all along.

Her breathing turned shallow and quick.

Ma Phil slowly rose from the couch. The lines on her face deepened, and for the first time, Niya noticed just how small the old woman was. But it didn’t matter because her authority was suffocating, causing a ripple in the atmosphere around them.

A chill skated down Niya’s spine, and before she could take her words back and brace for what came next, Ma Phil was already beside her.

The smell of camphor her grandmother probably used for aching joints mixed with faint lavender deeply ingrained her senses.

“I don’t care what I told you, Niya. You still made the choice.” Her voice was quiet now, but enough to draw blood. “You’re too soft for this world. You let everyone walk all over you. You don't think for yourself. Now, you’re gon’ have to pay the price.”

“You were raised you to be stronger than this. And yet, you dared let a ‘man’ turn you into nothing but a bitter child.”

“I am not bitter,” Niya shook her head.

Ma Phil’s lips thinned. “No? Then what are you?”

What was she?

Her phone buzzed on the counter where she’d left it after signing the nullification documents earlier that day.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Niya whispered, totally ignoring her phone. A single tear welled in her left eye. She didn’t even know what she was sorry for anymore. For being weak? For trusting to a fault?

But Ma Phil’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, she looked colder.

“If you really feel sorry, you’ll make it right. Now. You can't keep hiding in this house. You’re a grown woman, Niya. It’s time you made a decision.”

Niya stood in silence as the old woman breezed passed her like they never said a word to each other. Her words still reverberating in Niya's mind. 

She wanted to leave, but she couldn’t she had nowhere else to go. And besides, Niya could never bring herself to truly defy her grandmother, no matter how much she longed for freedom. 

The buzzing started again.

Niya hadn’t received a single call since waking up in the hospital. Although persistent, she dragged herself to the kitchen, the open layout making the space feel both vast and empty. The sitting room stretched wider, with warm light from the high windows spilling onto a worn-out rug. The kitchen took a smaller portion of the space, with a breakfast bar that separated it from the rest of the room. Stony marble counters clashing against the old wooden cabinets her grandmother refused to change.

Niya snatched the phone before it could go silent. Pressing i

t to her ear, “Hello?” she waited.

Immediately, her eyes expanded into saucers as her gut twisted.