A walk on thorns

Chapter 20| Silent Is The Best Answer...

Sabrina's POV

“Sabrina! Sabrina!” Her voice pierced through the stillness, harsh and desperate, as I slammed the door behind me. What now? I exhaled, my nerves fraying, and my patience evaporating with each passing second.

“What is it again?” I asked, my voice sharp as I carelessly tossed my glasses aside, already done with whatever drama she had in store. I didn’t need this right now.

“Why are you behaving like a child?” she stormed into the room, her words laced with frustration and something else, a deep, simmering anxiety. But I couldn’t bring myself to care. She had crossed a line, and now there was no turning back.

“What do you want?” I asked, uninterested, removing the camera from around my neck with a deliberate nonchalance. Her nerves were eating at her, I could see it in her jittery hands, but I wasn’t about to get pulled into her chaotic orbit.

“I want to talk with you.” Her voice wavered, like she was trying to brace herself for something. But whatever it was, I had already checked out.

“Are you ready to get a divorce or go back home?” I shot back, the sarcasm biting, the bitterness in my tone unmistakable. The words hung in the air between us, too loaded to ignore.

“Don’t you dare start that, Sabrina!” She bellowed, her voice cracking under the strain of her emotions. There was something almost desperate in her tone now, like she was pleading for me to give her a break. But I wasn’t feeling generous.

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaustion creeping in. “If you want to talk to me from the bottom of your heart, then don’t yell,” I said, barely controlling my sigh. “For the sake of your daughter’s happiness and our peace in this house, just, calm down.”

“I want to talk to you about earlier...” she began, but the words faltered in her throat, laden with guilt and uncertainty. She had messed up. I could feel it hanging in the air. The shift in her demeanor, she knew it.

“What’s up with earlier?” I interrupted, the sharpness in my voice cutting through her attempt to explain. I wasn’t in the mood for half-measures.

“Unless you listen and stop cutting me off, I can’t be done and go.” She was visibly annoyed now, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her gaze fixed stubbornly on the floor. She refused to look me in the eye, a clear sign that she knew what she had done was wrong, but she wasn’t ready to admit it. Not yet.

“I’m all ears.” I muttered flatly, more out of obligation than anything else. I didn’t care anymore. Let her speak, let her get it all out. It wouldn’t change anything.

“I just wanted to tell you that you heard the wrong information earlier before you came bombarding me,” she said, her voice laced with defensiveness. Her eyes flicked to the side, but never met mine. She was avoiding it, the truth, the confrontation, the reckoning. She couldn’t even look at me.

“Okay,” I responded, voice dry and indifferent, as I continued to unhook my abaya, slowly and deliberately. It was eating her up, I could see it. She wanted me to react, to rise to her level. But I wouldn’t. Silence, that was all she was getting from me.

“Okay, what?!” she spat, her voice rising, frustration reaching its peak. “Okay as in how? Sabrina, aren’t you going to talk to me?!” She was visibly shaking now, her breath ragged with anger and guilt, her chest rising and falling erratically.

“Yes,” I responded, without a flicker of emotion, my expression frozen. Silent treatment. The only thing that worked on someone like her. I had nothing left to give.

Her nostrils flared as she took a step closer, her body flushed with anger, her hands raised in exasperation. “Sabrina, you’re getting on my nerves. You know we have to talk about this, don’t you?!” She was a storm of rage now, her face red from frustration. But none of it mattered. I didn’t care anymore.