Commanding His Love

Chapter 11 Shadows Among Blossoms

The delicate dance of cherry blossoms concealed more than mere beauty—it harbored secrets, both whispered and unspoken. As the shadow flitted between the blossoms, my heart raced, and the past collided with the present. Was it Jenson, my ex-boyfriend, haunting me like a ghost from memories long buried? Or perhaps a stranger, their intentions veiled in darkness?

Chen Meng Yao's arm tightened under my protective grip, and I vowed to shield her from harm. Love and courage intertwined, urging me forward. The rustle of leaves, the fleeting glimpses—they all wove a tapestry of mystery. But who was the watcher? The answer lay hidden among the petals, waiting for me to unravel it.

My best friend, perceptive as ever, noticed my tension. "Amara, what's wrong?" she asked. I hesitated, torn between revealing my fears and protecting her innocence. But honesty prevailed: "I think someone is watching us," I confessed, the chill lingering in my bones.

Together, Chen Meng Yao and I faced the shadows, our hearts beating in unison. The cherry blossoms whispered, and we listened—for sometimes, the most profound truths emerge when petals fall, and secrets stir.

"Mari"

"Yeah, Meng Yao."

"Why do you think somebody is following you? Do you think it's your ex?"

"It's likely that he did find me. Remember the threat he made on the phone? He said he would find me if it was the last thing he ever did."

"Mari, what kind of man is Jenson? Why would he be searching so hard for you?"

"If I tell you everything, you must keep it to yourself. After I found him hooking up with my best friend after my father's funeral, I stole something from him. It was a black book with a bunch of account numbers and names. He is a racist drug dealing narcissist. A man who likes to hit women."

"Amara, I'm going to ask you something. And I want you to be honest with me. Did he ever put his hands on you?"

Not wanting to see the compassion and pity displayed on her face. I stared down at the ground, taking a huge breath. Before turning around and lifting the back of my shirt, revealing a jagged scar going down my spine. The latest of Jenson's ideas of love.

Meng Yao's eyes widened, her breath catching. The scar etched across your spine told a story of pain, betrayal, and survival. She reached out, her touch gentle, as if trying to heal more than just the physical wound.

"Amara," she whispered, "no one should endure such cruelty." Her voice held a mix of anger and sorrow. "We'll face this together. Jenson won't hurt you again."

"Please don't tell your brother how I got this scar! You know how his temper is."

"Of course, Amara, your secret is safe with me. I won't tell anybody, not even my cousin."

Amara's emotions swirled like fallen cherry blossoms caught in a breeze. The scar on her spine held memories of pain, betrayal, and survival. She had hidden it well, but now, in Meng Yao's compassionate gaze, vulnerability surfaced.

Fear warred with determination. Fear of Jenson's wrath, of the darkness he carried. Determination to protect Mei, to rewrite her story. The past and present collided, and Amara wondered if love and courage would be enough.

As she faced the shadows with Meng Yao, Amara grappled with conflicting emotions—fierce loyalty to her best friend and the haunting echo of Jenson's touch.

And in that moment, beneath the cherry blossoms, friendship transformed into something deeper—a bond forged in shared secrets and scars. Love and courage intertwined, ready to rewrite their story. The cherry blossoms whispered secrets, and she listened, hoping they held answers.