As Shyle reached home, a chill ran down her spine. The door was ajar. Her heart raced as she feared the worst—Bright's father might be inside. She cautiously stepped in, noticing the dim light from a single candle flickering in the corner of the room. Bright's father sat in the dark, his figure slouched.
"Why don't you switch on the light?" Shyle asked, trying to sound casual despite the knot tightening in her chest.
"Because you didn't submit the power bill," he retorted, irritation thick in his voice.
"Maybe because I don't have the money—or the need—to pay it," Shyle shot back, her voice unwavering.
He leaned forward, his tone turning venomous. "So, with whom are you sharing your bed now?"
Shyle laughed bitterly, shaking her head.
"I should never have loved a woman like you," he spat, frustration dripping from every word.
"Loved me?" Shyle's voice rose, her anger breaking through. "You don't know how to love anyone but yourself. That's why you drown yourself in booze, drugs, and denial, ignoring everything else. Don't you dare use that word with me."
The man's face contorted with rage as he swiped a metal plate off the table, sending it crashing to the floor. He stood up, towering over her.
"You're the worst woman, and that son of yours—if he's even mine—"
Shyle laughed again, her eyes gleaming with defiance. "I wish he wasn't yours. At least then, he'd know what real love from a father feels like. He's grown up alone, managing everything by himself. It's a miracle he's turned out so well because children from homes like this—filled with nothing but regrets—usually end up in prison."
Bright's father stared at her, his silence heavy with anger.
"Why are you even here?" Shyle asked coldly.
"I need to sell the house," he replied.
"What?" Shyle's shock was immediate, her voice trembling.
"The house is in your name. I need your signature," he said, his tone businesslike.
"You've got to be insane! You don't help Bright or me, and now you want to take away our home?" Shyle's voice cracked with emotion.
"They'll kill me if I don't pay back what I owe," he muttered, his voice devoid of remorse.
Shyle's patience snapped. "I've had enough of you. Get out of this house and don't come back."
"I don't have a choice," he sneered. "Either I sell the house or I kill you. You decide." With that, he stormed out, leaving the house eerily silent.
Shyle sank to the floor, her body shaking, fear and anger swirling within her.
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The next morning, the sun crept through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room where Bright and Win lay in a tangle of blankets. Win, still groggy from a late night, stirred first. He reached out, his hand lazily brushing against Bright's shoulder.
"Go get ready for school," Win mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
"Hmm... five more minutes," Bright murmured, instinctively pulling Win closer, his arms wrapping around him like they always had since childhood.
"We'll be late," Win protested weakly, but the warmth between them made it hard to care.
"Alright, alright..." Bright's eyes fluttered open. But as he came to his senses, he realized their position. His heart gave an unexpected lurch—his body was resting against Win's, and their faces were so close that he could feel Win's breath on his skin.
YOU ARE READING
Transcending To You
RomanceA swoon worthy love story. It is a romance-comedy with happy ending.
