A walk on thorns

Chapter 11|First Encounter

Sabrina’s POV

I woke to a throbbing headache I couldn’t ignore. Hunger, I knew, was gnawing at me, but this was more than physical, this was a dull ache clawing at my spirit. The bitterness rising in my throat felt like a promise of fever; my body’s way of protesting, of collapsing under all I’d tried to endure. The day before I arrived here, I’d eaten sparingly, too happy and nervous to manage a proper meal. The journey itself drained me, and yesterday had been worse, no peace of mind, no appetite. The only thing I’d managed was the chocolate MJ shared with me, but that had hardly lasted. Now, nausea twisted my stomach, and the emptiness felt sharp.

I forced myself out of bed, managing a glass of water and a few deep breaths to steady myself. It was past 1:00 pm, and my body demanded food. I shuffled into the kitchen, found some leftover chicken pepper soup in the fridge, and began to warm it. The rhythmic clinking of the spoon against the pot was almost soothing; I felt oddly lost in the small routine, missing the footsteps that approached from behind.

“What are you doing here?!” a voice roared, slicing through the silence like a knife.

I jolted, heart pounding, and spun around to see Ya Mukhtar standing there, arms folded, staring me down with an expression laced with contempt.

“Ya Mukhtar, you scared me,” I managed, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. “When did you get back?”

His face twisted with disdain. “Is that what I asked you?” he sneered, his voice a disgusted scoff. The words stung, sharp and dismissive.

“I was woken up by hunger, so I came to make something for myself,” I replied, keeping my tone even. I turned back to the pot, determined not to let his rudeness get to me.

“Of course you did. Hunger. What else would wake you up?” he sneered, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Eat well, there’s plenty. Clearly, that’s what matters to you.”

The insult cut deep. I clenched my jaw, feeling a flare of anger. For a moment, I was tempted to let it slide, but then I caught myself. No. Not this time. I turned to face him, folding my arms defiantly. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” My tone was firm, my eyes meeting his unflinchingly.

A spark of irritation flickered in his gaze, but instead of backing off, he took a step closer, his towering frame leaning in as he smirked with a cold glint. “Safeeya, or whatever it is...”

“Sabrina,” I corrected, voice unwavering. His eyes narrowed, clearly unamused by my interruption.

“Good for you, Sabrina.” He said my name with a mocking edge, as though he could barely bring himself to say it. “You may think you’re someone special, but here, you’re in my domain. This is my den, and you’d do well to remember that. So, a bit of advice? You’d better learn to bow down.”

“And if I don’t?” I shot back, my voice steady despite the unease roiling within. His arrogance was astounding, and every instinct screamed to tread carefully, but my pride wouldn’t allow me to let him bully me.

He leaned even closer, his face inches from mine. “Believe me, you won’t like the outcome, baby girl.” He smirked, his tone dripping with patronizing arrogance.

I met his gaze, unblinking. “Maybe you should tread carefully too. I can be ‘a walk on thorns,’ Mukhtar, and as for food, I’m more than capable of feeding myself. Save your ‘plenty’ for someone who cares.” With that, I grabbed my bowl and mug and brushed past him, refusing to let him see even a hint of fear in my eyes. His gaze bore into my back, like a wolf sizing up prey, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.

It wasn’t until I reached my room, safely behind a closed door, that I released the breath I’d been holding. The tension drained, leaving me shaky but relieved. This man was beyond intimidating, he was downright menacing. How could anyone endure living in the same house as someone so cold, so devoid of empathy? How did Anisha manage it? My heart ached as I thought of her, caught in this toxic web. The man I’d just encountered was brutal, calculating; there wasn’t an ounce of kindness in his expression. No wonder she’d seemed so withdrawn and fearful. She had to survive this hostility every day.