MJ
The moment Aliza told me what happened, I ran to our room like a madwoman. He better not have said or done anything to her.
The image of her crying tore through me like shards of glass. I wanted to find that bastard and make him pay. How dare he hurt her?
I banged on the door, my voice trembling with urgency. “Sonia, open up!” No response. My heart thundered in my chest as I fumbled for my keys.
The door swung open, and I froze. She was on the floor, clutching her chest, her breaths shallow and ragged.
“Sonia, what’s wrong?” I rushed to her side, my senses spiraling out of control.
“I... can’t... bre...athe,” she gasped, her chest heaving.
Panic surged in me, but I forced it down. She needed me calm.
“Listen to my voice,” I whispered, leaning close, my forehead brushing hers. “Just breathe, baby. Breathe.”
I counted softly, guiding her through each inhale and exhale, my voice steady even though my insides were in turmoil. Gradually, her breathing evened out, but tears still streamed down her face.
I pulled her into my arms, cradling her as if that alone could shield her from the world. Watching her curl up on the floor, struggling to breathe, was like a knife twisting in my gut. I’d never been this terrified of losing someone before. Not even when Celine walked out of my life.
When her breathing steadied, I lifted her gently and placed her on the bed, tucking the covers around her. My arms curled protectively around her waist as I held her close, afraid to let go.
“Hey,” I murmured groggily hours later.
“Hi,” she replied, shifting to nestle between my legs.
“What time is it?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
“Two.”
“P.M.?”
“A.M. We’ve been out for six hours.”
“Oh.” She rubbed her swollen eyes, the events of earlier flashing across her face. "What happened?" She asks nestling between my legs.
“You had a panic attack,” I said, my hand brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“I did?” Her voice cracked.
“What did he do to you?” I asked, pulling her closer. Her silence spoke volumes before she finally whispered, “Do you think I belong here?”
“What?”
She took a shaky breath. “Do you think I should be at this school? You... you once called me a lowlife.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Shame crept in as I remembered the things I’d said in my ignorance.
“Shit, Sonia. I’m sorry,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You earned your place here. You wouldn’t have gotten that scholarship if you weren’t smart enough. You belong here.”
Her lips wobbled into a faint smile, but the sadness in her eyes lingered.
“It doesn’t feel like it,” she whispered.
“Why?”
Her voice was barely audible. “The professor... he said I was a waste of time. That if I miss another class or fail, he’ll make sure I’m sent back to the ‘dirty village’ I came from. That my butt will only get me to a strip club, I've never felt so humiliated.”
Rage flared in me, hot and unrelenting. “What?” I growled, my fists clenching. “That bastard. He doesn’t even know you!”
Neither did I, I thought bitterly, until it was almost too late.
I wiped her tears with my sleeve, anger and guilt warring within me. “He’s wrong, Sonia. And I’m going to make sure he never talks to you like that again.”
Her body shook as fresh tears spilled over. “Do you love me?” she asked, her voice muffled against my chest.
“What?”
“Do you love me?” she repeated, her eyes locking onto mine, searching for the truth.
“Yes,” I admitted, my voice steady.
"I need to hear you say it," she croaked, holding my sweatshirt as if it was her lifeline.
“I love you more than anyone in this world. And if I’ve ever made you doubt that, I’m sorry.”
A small, fragile smile curved her lips as she clung to me. “Thank you,” she whispered.
I held her until she fell asleep again. Then I slipped out of the room, my mind already racing.
I paced the corridor, phone in hand, before dialing my father. He answered on the second ring.
“Hello.”
“I need your help,” I said, my voice tight.
He sighed heavily. “What did you do now?”
“Nothing. I just need you to get rid of someone.”
“Who?” His tone sharpened.
“A professor. Martin. He teaches economics.”
"Did he do something to you?" He asks, almost concerned.
"No, just get rid of him," I snap, my stomach churning.
“And why should I?” he asked, his skepticism dripping through the line.
“Because he’s trash, and I want him gone,” I spat.
“Do you think I’m your errand boy?”
“Can you do it or not?”
He sighed again, exasperated. “What makes you think I can?”
“Because you’re on the school board. Because you have money,” I snapped, watching students stroll past me in the dimly lit hallway.
“And you think I’d waste it on you?”
The insult burned, but I swallowed my pride. This wasn’t about me. It was for her.
“If you do this, I’ll owe you. Whatever you want,” I said, my voice low.
A long silence stretched before he finally relented. “Fine.”
YOU ARE READING
The Sweetest Fruit ( Tomboy 🏳️🌈Love Story )
Romance[18+] Sports College Romance. Cover art by@emilycatewrites
