Reborn For Revenge

"What? Don't you know you're no longer our family when you get married off? You should think about your family now that you're married. You shouldn't be so greedy". "I'm so sorry Mother," l lost all my appetite for a smile. Loads of water are already gathering in my eyes waiting for a blink for them to drop. "Hurry up and get rid of it, we don't want anyone to think our exhibition is lousy, " she turned to take her leave. "That's so harsh mother," Elena also turned, forming her lips to make a mockery of me. "Instead of looking at the painting, can't you see how I feel? Sure, I may not be up to your standard, but I worked so hard on it with all my heart," I spurted out as tears rolled down my cheeks. "Hey listen, you were working on that painting while you should've been working harder. That's why I was upset." "I'm sorry. I misunderstood you. It's for a good cause, so I'm doing my best and I won't disappoint you," I retorted, trying to find her favor. "Let me know if you

With my heart racing, I follow the officers, determined to uncover the source of the disturbance. As I rounded the corner, my breath caught in my throat when I saw the appearance of someone lashing out, slapping someone. Someone familiar, someone I never expected to see in such a predicament with a force that echoed through the room. It was my mother who was being slapped by one of her customers, Mrs Rodriquez. Shock and disbelief washed over me as I struggled to make sense of the scene unfolding before my eyes. How could this be happening? What had led my own mother to be slapped by someone not up to her level as she always claimed? Shock and horror coursed through me as I watched my mother stagger backward, her hand flying to her cheek in disbelief as she collapsed within a second with her assistant manager gripping her to stand. "The police will find out. What should I do?" I read the words forming on her lips. She whispers to her manager's eardrum. I can see the look o

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 respons

Standing in the living room, I faced my mother, or rather, the woman who had raised me. My heart was a fortress of ice, my words sharpened by the memo of betrayal. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What? Say it again," her hand ran through her hair and then down to her neck, a nervous habit I'd want to see from now on. "I'm not marrying Zayn," I said, my voice cold. Hearing this, she sat her glass of water down, her hands shaking slightly. Her face hardened with her eyes flashing with anger. "I feel under the weather."A flicker of confusion crosses her face, a rare crack in her otherwise impenetrable facade. She blinked, taken aback by my sudden coldness. Her gaze shifted momentarily, and she noticed the maid stand silently by the doorway, a witness of our fractured exchange. "Go get me some chicken. I'll boil it for dinner." She instructed the maid, her voice unnaturally steady. The maid nodded and quietly exited the room, leaving us in a sense of silence. "Don't you hear me? Or