𝚸1 𝐎𝐅 𝚨 " 𝐓𝐖𝐎-𝚸𝚨𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒" | 18+
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A voice so tempting triggers the darkest parts of her mind, it makes her think unimaginable things, like the pain she thought she escaped.
His obsession for her deeply and darkly abnormal, the i...
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11
Words can hardly express the overwhelming emotions coursing through me. First, I find myself, against my will, depending on a man—likely for the rest of my life—because I may be pregnant. After everything, we finally reached our destination: a mansion where, supposedly, my mom is living.
I wish Stassie were here. I need a friend's support right now, but I've come this far with no friends by my side. So why should things change now?
"Ami, I need to take care of a few things, but we'll have dinner later. I'll see you, beautiful," Reign said, his voice soft. The car came to a full stop in front of the grand house. I nodded, still uneasy from our earlier conversation.
Reign gently stroked my bottom lip with his thumb before kissing me passionately. The door to my side opened on its own, and I hesitated for a moment before stepping out and heading toward the front door. I took a deep breath, heart pounding, as I rang the bell—fear tightening in my chest.
When the door opened, there she was—my mother's face, eyes wide with shock. "Amina?" Her expression shifted instantly to one of surprise, and then, a wide smile spread across her face. She rushed forward, pulling me into a tight embrace.
"I've missed you so much, Mom," I whispered. She cupped my face gently, kissing both of my cheeks in response. As soon as I felt her arms around me, I couldn't hold back anymore—I began to cry softly. Her face softened with concern, and she quickly wiped away my tears with her thumbs.
"Come, come," she urged, pulling me inside and shutting the door behind us. I couldn't help but glance around her place. Music played softly in the background, accompanied by low murmurs of conversation from a room on the right. I furrowed my brows, looking at my mother, realizing only then that she was dressed in an elegant pearly white gown.
"Mom, are you having a party?"
She hesitated for a moment. "Uh, honey, you caught me by surprise. Let's talk upstairs—" Her Portuguese accent was still there, but the way she spoke so much English surprised me; her fluency had clearly improved over time. I nodded and agreed to head upstairs, though I remained both confused and curious.
We reached the open balcony, and Mom took hold of the railing, inhaling deeply before turning to face me with a wide, closed-lip smile. But even that faded when she noticed the stoic expression on my face.
"Princesa, are you okay?" Her voice was slow, deliberate, as though she were measuring each word.
A tear slipped down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away. "Y-yes, why do you ask?" I forced out a laugh, trying to cover it up.
My mother said nothing but looked me directly in the eyes. This was how she read people—just like she used to do with Dad. She'd stare at him like this, knowing he'd break under her gaze. It was a quiet kind of pressure, but one that spoke volumes.
