CHAPTER 30
She tried — but failed miserably. The tremble in her hands now worsened as she dropped the knife for the tenth time.
Rafael refused to let her change, and the tattered pieces of her dignity clung to her skin.
She was relieved at least her chest and private parts were covered, but what about her self-esteem, her dignity, her womanhood?
She felt herself slipping into a fake abyss once again. She hated this. With all her guts and wanted nothing more than to run back to her room, close the door and hide underneath the blanket. She wanted to cry.
But she couldn’t.
Rafael just told her to make dinner. She didn’t know why she was obeying him, but one thing was for sure, he was not going to let her leave so easily.
She shuddered at the feel of his cold gaze on her as he sat on the chair and observed her. His eyes lingered on her with such intensity that paralyzed her to her core. That made her wither in disgust.
“How long?” Rafael asked feigning boredom tapping his chin as if he just tried to force himself on her. Amara flinched at his voice and tried not to let her tears fall.
“J-Just a moment.” She tried to voice out. The sooner she’d make him food, the sooner she’ d be able to leave her room.
The new hope glistened. And she quickly stirred the stew and put veggies in it. She kept her back turned to him, knowing she’d break if she looked at him.
Adding mushrooms and stirring it for a minute or two. Her hands shook as she tried to add the soup to the bowl. Taking a deep breath, she finally gathered herself and served him.
When she turned around, she kept her head low.
Rafael amusedly hummed rubbing his hands. “I knew you’d make me something delicious.”
He licked his lips looking at the food and Amara kept her tears at bay.
She put the rice and side dishes in front of him and took a stumbling step towards her room when his voice stopped her. “Where are you going? Come, sit with me.”
Amara did not want to but she had no choice. So, she decided to play his way for a while. Cause there was nothing she could do anymore. She took the seat opposite of him purposely, not meeting his eyes as he ate.
“So, what did you do today? Except for the strolling.” He stirred the soup with the spoon. Amara swallowed.
“N-Nothing.” Rafael hummed. Amara clenched her jaw and shut her eyes. Was he always like this? Insecure and jealous? Abusive? She shook her head. No. This couldn’t be Rafael she knew. The man whom she met when she gained her conciseness was caring, loving and generous.
But the one in front of her wasn’t.
He was manipulative, abusive, and forceful.
Amara's emotions were a tumultuous mix of fear, frustration, and despair.
The failed attempt at a simple task intensified her vulnerability, leaving her trembling and on the verge of tears.
The conflict between her desire to resist Rafael and the seemingly inescapable situation weighed heavily on her.
And this was not the first time Rafael tried to force himself on her.
Amara tried not to provoke him and patiently waited for him to finish. What could she even do? She felt so helpless and vulnerable that even breathing the same air as him seemed difficult.
It was a cold, gripping sensation that sent shivers down her spine, a constant reminder of the unpredictable nature of her circumstances. Her heart raced, caught in the rhythm of anxiety, as she navigated the line between fear and anxiety.
After a while, Rafael was done and went back to his room. Amara remains seated. Hoping he’d stay in his room forever. She silently picked up the dishes and cleaned them. Then wiped the kitchen counter. As she was about to move to the room, her gaze lingered on the peonies in the vase.
The white, pastel-pink flowers looking back at her.
Amara's emotional dam weakened by the relentless pressure of fear and frustration, finally gave way.
As her knees gave out and she fell on her knees, a wave of despair crashed over her.
It wasn't just tears that streamed down her face; it was the breaking of something deep within.
Her heart shattered into countless pieces, the pain echoing through every fiber of her being.
The stifled sobs that escaped her were both a release and a surrender.
She despised this vulnerability, loathed the way her cries betrayed the facade of strength she desperately clung to.
Yet, paradoxically, there was a strange comfort in the cathartic release of emotions, in the acknowledgment of her own pain.
Each stifled cry was a testament to the internal battle, the clash between the woman she used to be and the one that Rafael's manipulation was molding her into. It was a heartbreaking dance of anguish, a melody of self-loathing interwoven with the longing for a reality she could no longer grasp.
She wondered how her life must be before she lost her memories. And somewhere inside, she wished she’d be in another accident and she’d lose her memories again. Cause this pain, this helplessness, this sadness was eating her.