Azariah - God Has Helped

Chapter 15

Kiara sank onto the edge of her bed, her body trembling as the tears streamed freely down her face. Two months into school, and the strain on her relationship with Davar was already fraying the edges of her sanity. She glanced at her phone again, the message glowing ominously on the screen, burning her chest with a mix of anger and helplessness. She wanted to destroy it—destroy the message, destroy the sender, destroy the frustration coiling in her chest.

Davar's insecurities gnawed at her relentlessly. Yes, she was far away, trying to build a better future for herself and their son, yet all he could focus on was doubt. Trust him, Kiara reminded herself, trust him—but even that simple  act seemed beyond him. She had been faithfully keeping her heart anchored to him, even when loneliness wrapped itself around her like a suffocating blanket. Tears blurred her vision, unrelenting and hot, threatening to drown her in the helplessness of it all.

How dare he question her loyalty? For God's sake, she had a child with him—a living testament to her devotion. Even if he wasn't perfect, she was determined to stand by him, to be the partner he needed.

Davar's insecurities had a way of sinking into Kiara's bones, twisting themselves around her thoughts until she could barely recognize her own reflection anymore. Being loyal wasn't enough for him—not nearly enough. She could give him her honesty, her devotion, her entire heart on a silver platter, yet he still held it like it might disappear if he blinked too long.

Every time he questioned her, accused her, or hinted that she might betray him, something inside her cracked a little more. It was like he was chiseling away at her piece by piece, until what remained was a girl who constantly second-guessed her worth, her beauty, her intentions.

There were nights when Kiara lay awake staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of every accusation pressing against her chest. Her mind would replay his words over and over, like a cruel soundtrack she couldn't turn off.
"You just want someone else."
"I know you're going to find someone up there."
"You're too friendly."

It hurt. God, it hurt so much.

Because she had tried—tried so hard to be everything he needed. She kept her world small. She avoided unnecessary interactions. She kept her head down, her heart guarded, her intentions pure. But none of it mattered. His fear became her burden, his doubts became her guilt, and his insecurities became her prison.

She found herself shrinking in ways she never expected. Becoming quieter. Dimming her light. Avoiding eye contact with strangers so no one could accuse her of wanting attention. She became hyper-aware of her clothes, her smile, her body—everything suddenly felt like evidence he could flip against her.

It wasn't just emotional exhaustion.
It was mental erosion.
A slow crumbling of the confident, vibrant girl she used to be.

And then... there was him.

The stranger who never should have mattered.
The stranger who crept into her thoughts when her guard was down.
The stranger who made her feel noticed in a way she hadn't felt in years.

At first, it was harmless—just a passing glance here and there, the way his eyes lingered when she walked by. But it was different from the empty attention she avoided from others. His gaze wasn't predatory or bold; it was soft, curious, appreciative. It was the kind of look that made her feel like a woman again, not just someone's obligation.

She hated that she noticed him.
She hated even more that he noticed her back.

But most of all... she hated that the smallest kindness from him felt like breathing after months underwater.

He made her feel seen without having to perform.
Beautiful without having to beg.
Wanted without being accused.
Safe without being smothered.