A walk on thorns

Chapter 48| Who Is She

Anisha's POV

I was more than shocked, yet undeniably impressed, when I stepped into the park. The event planner they hired was clearly top-tier. Everything was meticulously organized, each detail so flawless that it felt as though the setup had existed since the dawn of time. I didn’t need to ask to know who was behind it. It had Sabrina’s touch all over. She sent Rubina to deliver the dress, fully aware that I wouldn’t be able to turn the girl away. Especially not with that radiant, expectant smile. What a clever move, what a good kick!

I was content, basking in the ambiance while keeping to myself, until they arrived. Miss Satanic and Mrs. Demonic. Jalila and Ummi. I had no idea who invited them, nor how they even discovered the event’s location. Then it clicked, Amna Jalila’s daughter attended the same school as Rubina. One loose thread, and Jalila pulled the whole tapestry apart. But it wasn’t their presence alone that rattled me. It was the fact that Jalila brought Ummi. That terrified me. What were they plotting?

There had been tension, huge friction, between Jalila and me the last time she came to my house. She wasn’t here by chance. This was deliberate. A calculated act of vengeance, her weapon of choice being Ummi’s silent, menacing presence.

I missed the cutting of the first cake because they cornered me, pulling me away from the crowd. To my surprise, Jalila wasn’t hostile. No threats. No taunts. Instead, she offered advice. She encouraged me to take steps that would help me retain my husband. A cryptic warning wrapped in sugar-coated words. To figure out where the threat lies is for the wise. And then there was Ummi. Silent. Smirking. Watching. The bitch.

The Mid-Year Ball at M.A. Wazeeri Investment was on the horizon. This wasn’t just any gathering, it was monumental. A congregational celebration, marking the signing of partnerships with three international enterprises: Mr. Fernandez from FRD in California, Tom Drew in Addis Ababa, and TeensXT in Sudan. Jalila and Ummi weren’t here to play games. They were urging me to attend. To stand by Mukhtar. To reclaim my place. To stop Nadeera from being the one by his side on that pivotal day. Their motives were obvious, but I couldn’t ignore the opportunity for personal gain.

We left Sabrina at the event center to see the planners off. Nearly three hours passed, and still, no sign of her. I waited in the downstairs parlor, the house eerily quiet. Mukhtar and Nadeera weren’t home; they had traveled, to God knows where. I tried calling Sabrina. Her voice, tight and strained, was all I got in return. I’ll be home as soon as possible.

Something was wrong. I heard it in her tone.

I hoped, prayed, it wasn’t Mr. Right seeking revenge. The way they interacted earlier, the intensity in his gaze… something about it unnerved me.

Rubina, excited but exhausted, waited eagerly for Sabrina to help her unwrap the gifts from her friend. Eventually, sleep claimed her, and Sarah carried her to her room.

Then, Sabrina walked in.

Her makeup was smeared, streaks of black tracing the path of her tears. Her clothes were stained with sand, her body trembling. She didn’t need to say a word. The sight of her, broken, unraveling, was enough.

And I knew, deep in my bones, that it involved him.

Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihi raji'un!

“Ya Allah,” I whispered, each breath jagged with fear. Please, don’t let it be what I’m dreading. Sabrina doesn’t deserve this kind of pain. Ya Allah, protect her.

She stumbled forward, eyes distant and unfocused, her makeup smeared and her clothes stained with sand. Her face, once vibrant, was now pale, hollowed by whatever horror she had just endured. I rushed to her, my heart in my throat, sending silent prayers with each step.