Page 53 of She will Always be Mine

UNKNOWN:But before that, I want a glimpse of what you’re hiding underneath those clothes, Nyra.

UNKNOWN:You have until midnight. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

This is what I woke up to.

I stare and stare at the text messages wishing for them to disappear.

My heart was racing a mile a minute as I eagerly grabbed my phone, expecting another message from Riaan, only to remember that I blocked him for real this time.

That’s when I got really scared, like my bad premonition was finally coming true. And it took less than two seconds for my world to splinter into pieces.

I don’t remember how long I sat numb, shell-shocked, and wishing it was a terrible nightmare I was stuck in. PI prayed that it was a bad joke... prayed that Zain was playing with me. Maybe he made a mistake.

I couldn’t believe what my eyes were seeing—or rather,reading. Just like any cornered person, I made up excuses, anything to deny the truth in front of me.

Zain wouldn’t do this to me.

He wouldn’t disrespect me this way.

I’m his little sister, goddammit!!

However, when nothing changed and those same words stared back at me, the tears helplessly fell down my cheeks.

The powerlessness swirling inside me, turned into madness, and I cursed him for having the audacity to threaten me to obey him, as well as to even ask for it. I have done nothing wrong to deserve this.

My only fault is loving Riaan the way that I do.

Still, it doesn’t give anybody the right to punish me for it and somehow justify their vile actions. The decision was pretty easy. There’s no way was I listening to his sick demands. This is going too far.

ME:No. I will never do that.

It’s been hours since I replied back to him and now he’s toying with me again. I sent him the message in the heat of the moment and as minutes goes by with dead silence, dread and doubt creep in.

Have I pushed him too far?

He won’t release the pictures, will he?

And the thoughts only keep getting more frightening than the last. I’m biting my nails when there’s suddenly a knock on my door and I sharply look up.

“Why haven’t you eaten your lunch yet, Nyra?” asks my mom.

After catching me red-handed a few days ago, I’ve noticed a change in her behavior and it has been for the better. She’s being more like her old self with me as if our argument—or rather, theresultof our argument—has given her some peace and satisfaction that felt missing until now. It seems like a breakthrough she was eagerly waiting for.

Perhaps, it came in the form of holding my love for Dad as a bargaining chip.

But if she believes it’ll make things go back to the way they were...

She’s in need of a very rude awakening.

“I’m not hungry,” I curtly reply, refusing to meet her eyes.

I wish she would go away. But instead, she walks farther into my room. I watch from my peripheral vision as she goes to the beanbag chair in the corner, leans down and one by one, starts folding my clothes that I threw haphazardly off the side of my bed. Sadness tugs at my heart because it’s so much like the old her.

It’s these little things she’s been doing the past few days like making my bed, spending more and more time in the same room as me, cooking my favorite food just the way it was before everything happened.

At first, I was shocked, until I realized she was trying to make an effort and not keep me at arm’s length anymore.

I thought I’d be happy with the change in Mom. But now, it’s me who is pulling away from her, giving her the silent treatment. She’s trying to pretend like nothing ever happened and somehow, it stings even more.

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