Zurianne never imagined that saving her mother's life would cost her own freedom. Forced into an arranged marriage with Christopher Whyte the infamous Jamaican Don feared by many,she braces herself for a life of cold stares and ruthless commands. Bu...
STONY HILL | KINGSTON JAMAICA SATURDAY 26., 9:44am
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The sunlight poured through my blinds, painting golden stripes across the floor and dragging heat over my bare skin. Still half-asleep, I lay there, one hand pressed to my stomach. Something felt... off. Not painful. Just wrong in a quiet way.
My sheets were heavier than usual. My limbs slower. My chest — unsettled.
I sat up with effort, my legs dangling off the edge of the bed, toes curling on the tile. I stayed like that for a while, just breathing. Just trying to feel normal.
"Mi cyaah miss this appointment," I muttered, forcing myself up.
In the bathroom mirror, I saw everything I'd been trying to hide. The puffiness beneath my eyes. The dullness in my skin. I hadn't slept properly since Sinna left. Since that ride from the airport when he told me he needed space. Like I was extra. Like I was too much for the life he wanted to live.
I brushed my teeth in silence. Let the water run cold. It shocked my body, but I needed it. I scrubbed fast, moisturized faster, and pulled on a plain black tank and high-waisted jeans. No gloss. No lashes. Not today.
I tied my hair into a bun and slipped my slides on before grabbing my little green purse and stepping out.
The sun slapped me the second I touched the front steps. Sweat gathered instantly at the back of my neck. I didn't bother to wipe it. Just tapped the inDrive app and waited by the main road.
White Axio. Loud music. The driver turned the volume down when I got in.
My driver pulled up five minutes later. I slid into the backseat, offered a quiet "Good morning," and stared out the window the entire ride. He didn't talk. I didn't either.
The car smelled like mint and leather. I remember that.
I took a number from the front desk, sat, and started scrolling through my phone to pass the time. But nothing registered. I opened Instagram, closed it. Opened WhatsApp, stared at Sinna's last seen. Nothing.
When they finally called my name, I stood too fast.
The hallway was quiet, the walls painted that hospital blue that always looked like it was trying to make you feel calm, even when your insides were screaming. The nurse smiled softly and opened the door to Dr. Barnes' office.
"Morning, Paige," she said, all warm and professional. "You're here for your contraceptive refill, yes?"
"Yeah," I said, sliding into the chair. "Mi usually get di six-month pack. Same one mi always use."
