Anisa climbed into the taxi, her vision blurred by fresh, silent tears. Her mission had been straightforward: share the painful truth with Yugh and, perhaps, find an ally in this tangled web of betrayal. Instead, she had been met with a wall of furious denial and expelled from his doorstep. 😪
As the taxi pulled away, the controlled facade she'd maintained crumbled. Tears, hot and unchecked, streamed down her face. What did I do wrong? The thought was a hollow ache. Her mind replayed the four years with Zayan, years painted in hues of trust and contentment. Not a single shadow of doubt had crossed her heart. He had been her certainty.
But now… even as part of her desperately wanted to reject the image of him as a cheat, the evidence was piling up, undeniable and cruel. The dissonance was a physical pain in her chest. 💔
The taxi finally arrived at the house that was her gilded cage. Paying the driver, she entered, her spirit heavy. In the living room, Zayan's sister lounged, meticulously painting her nails. "Anisa, where did you go? I made lunch so you wouldn't have to trouble yourself," she cooed, the picture of faux concern.
Anisa saw through the performance with crystalline clarity. It was all a charade. For his sister and their mother, she was merely the temporary holder of assets they coveted. Their "kindness" was a transaction, a slow-burning play to inherit what Zayan had left behind. Anisa offered no reply, moving wordlessly past her toward the sanctuary of her room. Engaging would only invite more of their tangled drama. ðŸŽ
Later, seeking a different kind of solitude, she stepped into the shower. She let the hot water cascade over her, hoping to wash away the grime of the day, the sting of Yugh's words, the acid of her own grief. But as she closed her eyes under the spray, no peace came.
Instead, the water seemed to etch the final, horrific image onto the backs of her eyelids: Zayan and Zahra, their hands clasped not in a secret promise of love, but in the shared, fatal grip of the accident. The image she had tried to rationalize, to explain away as tragic coincidence, now pulsed with a new, sinister meaning. It was no longer just a snapshot of a disaster; it was a testament to a connection that had existed in the shadows, a connection that had ultimately claimed them both. The water ran, but it could not cleanse this truth. It was etched into her, as permanent as the cold tiles beneath her feet.🌀