Chapter 4
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 response. I wanted to say something, to ask her why she was here, but my throat was dry, and the words wouldn’t come.
Without a word, she reached over to the machines, her fingers moving with unsettling precision. I watched in horror as she began to unplug the various cords and tubes connected to me. The beeping of the heart monitor became erratic, then flatlined into a continuous, ominous tone.
"Now it is so quiet right?"
"Mother," I croaked, my voice barely more than a whisper.
She looked down at me, her expression icy and unyielding. She bends a little and takes a seat beside me.
"Finally, we're here alone, just the two of us," panic surged through me, my body struggling against the pain and weakness. I tried to reach out to stop her, but my limbs felt like lead.
"Can I be honest with you now?" she said, her voice devoid of any emotion.
"Emma, from the get-go, I never liked you," desperation clawed at me, but my body was too weak, my voice too faint. I could only watch aimlessly.
Her face twisted with a cruel, cold smile. "Do you remember? The day we first met," her voice eerily calm. "At the orphanage, you were just a small, frightened child, and you offered me a cup of water."
I remembered. I remembered the small kindness, the way I had looked up at her with wide, hopeful eyes.
"You tried so hard to win me over, and you succeeded. But when you moved in with us, you cried saying you felt bad that you were now living in a nice house, eating good food when the other kids at the children's home weren't," tears welled up in my eyes.
"I was baffled when you did that and I became more curious over time. I wonder how much longer you will be able to hide your greed. I always ask you if you need anything and you always turn me down. I waited for the day you won't be able to keep your pathetic ways until the day I saw your genuine smile at Zayn and I think I caught you."
"Observing this, you taught me everything. A life where you can't even say what you want. And living that life, not even knowing that people look down on you and badmouth you for that. It really is the worst," tears begin to find a way to flow out of my eyes because have never imagined this angel would turn into my worst nightmare.
As I lay there, feeling life slip away, she straightened up, reached into her bag, and pulled out a small mirror with meticulous care. She adjusted her hair, ensuring every stand was perfectly in place.
"Let me give you a piece of advice for our last times' sake," she moved closer to the bed I was laid on, bending little to a level of kissing me.
"In your next life, don't be too nice," another drop of tear fell from my eyes. "It only makes your own life more difficult," she said softly, almost to herself.