Bend your Chest Open

13: How to Start a Drama?

Kristin's POV

Nang makarating sa restroom ay agad kong tinignan ang aking repleksyon sa salamin. Maayos parin naman ang aking mukha, make-up at damit. Siniguro ko rin na naka-ipit parin ang aking buhok habang sinipat-sipat iyon ng ilang beses sa harap nang salamin.

Hindi naman ako ganito ka conscious sa mukha ko pero kasi, sa tuwing may napapatingin sa akin ay agad akong nakakaramdam ng hiya lalong-lalo na kapag si Ethan ang titingin.

I was busy fixing some loose strands of my hair, making sure they were in the right place, when I heard the clacking noise of stilettos. The loud thumps sounded like they were coming from someone who was furious.

As the footsteps drew nearer, my chest unconsciously pounded in rhythm with the clanks until I saw her familiar face glaring at me in the mirror.

"Nice dress," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, her eyes flicking over me with a predatory gleam.

That’s when I noticed it—our dresses were almost identical. Hers, a cocktail navy blue, clung provocatively to her flawless curves, the hem scandalously shorter. Mine, longer and glossy, felt suddenly modest in comparison, as if I was a shy shadow next to her blazing presence.

Farita's smirk widened as she sauntered toward me, every step deliberate, calculated. "It completely convinces me," she began, her voice as smooth as silk stretched too tight, "that we share the same taste in certain... looks, styles, and maybe even men."

She cocked a perfectly arched brow, her gaze piercing. Before I could respond, she stopped inches away, her perfume—a heady mix of vanilla and something sharp—invading my senses. "Did I stammer the last time we talked, Tin?" she demanded, her voice low and razor-edged, full of restrained fury.

"N-No," I stammered, feeling my heart race.

Her words struck like a whip, making me flinch internally, but I forced myself to stay still. My breath hitched as her eyes, blazing with something dark and unrelenting, searched mine for a flicker of guilt, of weakness.

The air between us grew suffocating, the tension almost tangible. Her hand brushed a lock of my hair away from my face—a gesture that felt more like a threat than anything else.

She leaned in closer, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "When," she hissed, her voice low and furious, "did you dare to defy me?"

Her jaw clenched so tightly that her muscles strained, and she forcefully grabbed my chin, her nails digging into my skin with a menacing grip. I winced as I slammed my hands on the sink for support. "I don't like repeating myself, Tin. Do you freaking hear me?!"

My pulse raced, but I strained to keep my voice steady. "I hear you, Farita," I said, my hands quivering as they grabbed the edge of the sink.

"Then prove it," she whispered.

I swallowed hard, trying to muster the courage to respond. "W-what do you want?"

She smirked, her gaze cold and calculating. "Simple. Stay in your lane. Ethan isn't someone you can have."

A surge of defiance rose within me. "You don't own him, Farita."

Her expression darkened, and she took another step closer, her face inches from mine. "Maybe not, but I won't let anyone else have him either. Got it?"

I didn't respond or give a cowardly nod as I used to. Instead, I gathered all my strength and managed to pull her hand off my chin, but her nails scraped against my skin.

"Ouch! My nails!" she screamed, stepping back.

She immediately panicked when she noticed one of her stick-on nails was missing. "Look what you did, you freak!" she screamed, pointing an accusing finger at me. "This isn't a warning anymore, Kristin." she added, her finger jabbing hard against my forehead.