A walk on thorns

Chapter 50| Perfect Advice

Anisha's POV

I was walking on the last thread, feeling the fray beneath my feet. Every moment felt like a delicate balance, a misstep away from collapse. Jalila's gaze drilled into me, fierce and expectant, demanding an answer I wasn't ready to give. Her eyes were sharp, gleaming with intent, while mine wavered under the weight of indecision. My mind was a storm, whirling thoughts, crashing doubts. Why am I always like this? Why can't I decide?

Sabrina had just returned from school. The sight of her tugged hard at my chest, a pang of guilt mixed with something else, protectiveness. She didn't deserve this. She was already drowning in her own battles. The acid attack had left scars, deep and unforgiving, both visible and hidden. I pitied her. I ached for her. But I couldn't have her blaming my husband for everything. This wasn't the time. Not now.

Jalila's voice, sharp and cunning, cut through the silence like a blade. She never spoke softly, her words were always weapons, deliberate and pointed. I was dead sure Sabrina had overheard half of what she said.

"It's high time you became the Luna of your Alpha," Jalila pressed, her voice low but insistent, coaxing and manipulative. "Stop letting Nadeera take what's yours."

The words hung in the air, heavy and dangerous. My chest tightened. The idea felt like stepping into quicksand. I couldn't forget how the anniversary celebration spiraled into chaos, leaving me reeling. But Jalila's words... they were tempting, a siren's call I wasn't sure I could resist.

"One thing about men you don't understand, Anisha," Jalila continued, leaning in, her voice dripping with calculated persuasion, "is that they love seeing women fight over them. Mukhtar stays with Nadeera because he thinks she's the most powerful. But the moment you push her aside, make a move that shakes everyone, he'll come crawling back. Head over heels."

Her eyes gleamed with something cold, almost cruel. The words echoed, familiar and haunting. Aunt Haseena. Aunt Salmah. They'd said the same thing. The logic was sound, but it felt... wrong. Cheap. Yet, the thought of reclaiming what was mine stirred something deep inside me.

I was drowning in that storm when Sabrina walked into the room, her steps purposeful but weary. She carried the weight of someone who had seen too much.

"Ya Anisha, Mama said you should call her. She couldn't reach you since morning," she said casually, but there was a sharpness in her eyes, a flicker of awareness. She turned to leave, but I couldn't let her go.

"Sabrina," I called softly, almost pleading. "Come here. Please. I need your help." My voice trembled, and her eyes snapped to mine. Jalila's gaze followed every move Sabrina made, calculating, dissecting.

Sabrina froze, her expression unreadable, a mix of wariness and something colder. She despised Jalila, anyone could see that. And she wasn't hiding it. "What is it?" she asked, her voice clipped, her body rooted in place, as if bracing for impact.

"Please, Sabrina. Come over. I need your assistance," I repeated, the desperation clawing at my voice. A tense pause filled the room, thick and suffocating. Finally, with a sigh, she crossed the room and sat next to me, rigid and guarded. The space between us felt like a chasm.

"What is it?" she asked again, her tone laced with discomfort. Her gaze flicked between me and Jalila, suspicion evident in every glance.

"We were having a serious discussion," I began, glancing at Jalila, who smirked slightly. "And we couldn't find a midpoint. I was thinking of coming to your room when you walked in."

Jalila, ever impatient, cut in. "Look, Sabrina, it's not that serious. I'm just advising her to stand up for herself."

Sabrina's eyes narrowed, her brow furrowing. "Stand up for herself? How?" Her voice was sharp, laced with disbelief.