Elena's POV
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I sat in front of the mirror, gazing at my own reflection. Despite my unending attempts to wipe them away, they kept flowing like an unstoppable force.
I knew perfectly that the tranquilized atmosphere in the house was temporary even at the late hours of the night. I work like an elephant and hardly get 3 square meals a day.
I've grown to find out that the man who claimed to be my dad hardly stays at home. He's always going on business trips.
My mood was aligned with the heavy cloud and Stormy night. My tears rolled down to the scar on my chin.
“Beautiful,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. At 17, this particular scar was given to me when I was accused of snatching Alana's boyfriend at the prom. The memories flickered in my mind. I could feel the pain.
“It's all for the best,” I said reassuringly, giving myself false hopes and expecting things to get better.
I couldn't help but wonder, why was my entire world built around pain.
Why was I caught up in the cycle of continued pain? The word ‘Peace’ seemed like an illusion, only existing in the imaginary world.
To others, the night is the perfect time to sleep. But to me, it's just a brief moment to pick myself up from the grave of pain and give in to the false hope that is playing in my mind.
The sound of footsteps jolts me away from my thoughts. I quickly wiped my eyes, trying to hide any evidence of tears. The footsteps were approaching my door. After a while, I didn't hear them again. Perhaps the person had left.
Before I could process everything, the door flung open. From the mirror, I could see my stepmother's reflection as she stood at the threshold, her face pale as usual.
“Those scars make you beautiful, honey. Embrace them,” she said coldly, a weird smile on her face. I ignored her and kept on staring at the mirror.“ We've run out of whiskey, go to the bar and buy some, will you?” She dropped the money on the floor and left.
I took a glance at the wall clock and it was just a few minutes past midnight. I walked to the window and checked if the rain was heavy. To my advantage, it was just drizzling. I exhaled slowly and picked up the torn jacket I had, wore it on, and off I was, into the Streets.
The smell of burning cigarettes hung heavy in the air. I could see men lying on the streets like dogs. It was obvious that they were drunk.
“Hey, hottie. A dollar for the night?” They called in unison, expecting a reply.
“Pervs,” I muttered, still hastening my footsteps.
A few miles away from my house, I felt a chill run down my spine. I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was being watched by someone lurking in the dark corners of the street.
I quickened my pace, glancing over my shoulder every few seconds. Aside from the men who spoke naughty words about me, I saw no one who picked interest in me.
I know quite well that it wasn't safe for a lady to be outside by this time of the night. It would only take an insane person to be outside by this time.
I broke into a run, not caring if anyone saw me. I just wanted to get away from whatever that's giving me the creepy feeling of being watched.
I flung open the bar's door, slamming it behind me. I held the door's knob for a while, catching my shallow breaths. I made my way to the counter, ignoring the stares of a few men who were staring at me. I bought the whiskey and left the bar.
I sighed with relief as I made my way home, the whiskey bottle tucked safely under my arms. I decided to try another route, a shorter way to get home.
I couldn't shake the feeling that my stalker was close to the bar waiting for the perfect moment to attack me or maybe even do something far worse.
The streets were quiet and I felt safe. I couldn't help but wonder, maybe the thought of being watched was just in my head. Maybe the night could still be salvaged after all.
I felt my shoulders relax. I could see my house looming ahead of me. I couldn't wait to get home and take off my wet sweater. I walked faster to my door and pressed the doorbell multiple times but I got no reply.
“Where the heck did they all go?” I muttered. Before I could press the doorbell again, I felt a sudden hand cover my mouth and nostrils from behind.
The last thing I could remember was the sound of the whiskey I was asked to buy shattering on the floor.
The world spun around and everything faded, leaving me in a world of pitch black.
Raymond's POV I burst into the room, anger evident in my facial expression. My father, seated on the couch with a cup of whiskey, looked at me, his face pale and free from all emotions. “ You can't do this to me, Dad. You just can't!” I yelled in anger. “ I know you think I am irresponsible, but forcing me into marriage and choosing a bride for me without my consent? That's unfair!” My father's eyes narrowed and he put his drink on the table. “ The last time I checked, I never sought the opinion of an irresponsible child. Never in my life have I reduced myself to debating with irresponsible people. Just do whatever I instruct. Don't ever question or challenge me.” he replied, rolling his eyes. “ You're doing this for your selfish interest! What did you promise the godforsaken bride? A house? At times I wonder if I'm truly your son.” My rage was boiling and threatening to spill. I had to keep it in check. “ Let me burst the bubbles, Raymond. Y
Your wedding day, they say, is an important event in every young woman's life. But why don't I feel happy? Rather, I feel relieved that I have managed to salvage the reputation of my family name from the claws of the media. As I sat here, surrounded by my guests, I couldn't help but fix my gaze on Alana, my sister, the trophy daughter of Williams Woods. Her makeup is beautifully done, with just the right amount of elegance and subtlety that perfectly complements her natural beauty.One who's not a family or a close family friend might not be able to differentiate us because we could pass for twins. The only difference between us was the mark on the right side of my face, a reminder of the mishandling I suffered at birth by a public hospital midwife.As I caught sight of her, I was taken aback by her pale and unhappy appearance, and a wave of realization struck me. Was my marriage to Raymond not what she wanted?This thought kept running through me as I tried to concentrate on the g
ELENA’S POVAs the first glow of dawn came in through the curtains, a wave of nausea hit me like a tonne of bricks. For some time now my morning sickness had become an unwanted companion, a relentless force determined to disrupt my day. The harshness was beyond my expectations, as I had never experienced such discomfort before. No matter how much I tried to avoid it I had a continual reminder that a new life was developing within me.Every breakfast seemed like a battle, a fight to keep my meal down. My stomach always cramps in protest, as I struggle to keep eating just to give my baby something to munch on. In times like these the very thought of food caused my stomach to twist and spin, and my mouth watered with the possibility of vomiting. Even the smell of my favorite oven-fried chicken brewing in the kitchen made me flee to the protection of the wash basin.My morning sickness symptoms extended beyond nausea. Even after a full day's sleep, I would feel exhausted. As the days
ELENA’S POV"Who is the father of that thing you are carrying, Elena?" Mrs Lawrence's voice echoed through the sitting room, full of irritation and anger.I felt the weight of her question push down on me, filling me with guilt and resentment. I strained to compose myself, my heart beating as I searched for the appropriate words. "I...I don't know," I muttered, flushed from humiliation.As the seconds ticked by, all I wanted was to disappear into thin air, free of the implicit accusations and bearing the burden of my doubt.I heard that old wall clock ticking away in the background, mixed with the eager chatter of the stewards who were eager to listen to Mrs Lawrence's conversation."Once again, my mother-in-law's voice sliced through the sitting room air like a rusty blade. 'Who is the father of that child?' she demanded. I jolted back to reality, a guilty flush creeping up my nerves."I tried to reply to Mrs Lawrence.“I…I can ex…p…lain” I muttered trying to catch my already
Elena go upstairs, you aren't moving an inch out of this house” Mary! Sabatine!. “Move these bags upstairs right now”. Said my dad as he walked from the garden to the sitting room where I was standing.You don't have any moral justification to throw your wife out. Yes, your wife because Elena is your wife and she must be treated as such. Honey, I didn't expect this attitude from you. You are a woman you should know better. Elena is a member of this family and that child is a ‘‘Lawrence’’. The earlier you accept It the better for everyone. Dad’s face fell with disappointment as he walked out of the sitting room. Knowing who my dad was, I expected him to kick her out without blinking an eye. But why is he on Elena’s side? Why is he protecting her? My mind wondered.As he made his points clear my mom and I gazed at each other in confusion. It was obvious that he meant every bit of what he said. Still in shock, I sat down on the sofa to process the shocking news that I just heard m
RAYMOND’S POV.I woke up feeling rusty and sluggish. Figured it may be the alcohol of the previous night doing its job.Headed downstairs for lunch since I missed my breakfast some hours ago. As I descended the stairs, I noticed Elena was already seated at the dining table, likely waiting for Mary to get her lunch.Lately, Elena and I barely exchanged words. We say a few hellos and hi's whenever we came across each other.I sat at the dining table and responded to her “Hello” while requesting some oven-dried chicken with macaroni Pasta salad. Hmm, back at this issue again. The president doesn't give a damn about you all. You go on protests every other week and nothing changes," I muttered, staring at the television. "Yet you still believe them. That's the difference between you guys," I pointed at the television, "and the rich, ha ha," I scoffed as I forced a piece of dried chicken placed in front of me."Bring me some orange juice," I called out to one of the housekeepers standing
ELENA’S POVMy marriage with Raymond has become a real puzzle since the discovery of my gestational age. My once close bond with Mrs Lawrence has turned sour, and now she acts like I don't exist. Nobody seems to care about me or my feelings, but thankfully my father-in-law and Mary treat me with the love that I desire.My stepmother and step-sister have never stopped by to say hi, and they never check in on me. Anytime I try to visit, I'm always stopped by one of the new stewards who politely tells me that they are busy at the moment or they aren't at home.The last time I heard my stepmother's voice was when Mrs Lawrence called about my pregnancy. And my dad, well he calls but it's not as often as I'd want him to. Our conversations are always short, and it feels like he is always rushing to get back to work.Raymond, my supposed husband, does nothing to make the situation better. All he does now is come home drunk and mess around with women.Even though Doctor Lucas and his parents
Raymond's POV.After my dad had scolded me about my supposed wife, I stormed out of the room with my car keys and drove off to Concave Bar. No matter how much my mother tried to chastise me, I just couldn’t get enough of this place. “I can't put up with Elena anymore, she is driving me nuts I need to find a way to get her out of my life,” I said as I began to ponder on my misery.I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket with a shrill sound, I glanced at the screen and noticed that it was Lucas. “Why are you calling?” I questioned with a gruff voice. His nosy call was interrupting my good time here in the bar. “I just wanted to know where you are, your mom called again she sounded worried, bro where are you? I could come meet you yunno” said Lucas“Sorry Lucas, I can't tell you. You're just gonna spill to mom again.”“Absolutely not, I would never do that” Lucas replied with a gentle smile. “We simply just need to talk, I'll even treat you to your favorite whisky, what do you say?” he