Chapter 10
Tshabina
My phone buzzed. I didn’t check it. I couldn’t.
I had spent the entire day locking myself inside my room. This weekend was wasted on being shut away, mourning within these four walls, lying like some half-dead corpse on my bed, with tear-soaked pillows and a mess of blankets, unnoticed by anyone.
Perhaps it wasn’t such a significant change, since I had always preferred to spend my precious time off buried in my bed. That must have been why no one realized how I’d been these past two days, not even my twin brother, Tsabinu. A part of me felt relieved and grateful for that, though.
Tsabinu was always busy, even on weekends, and my dad was away at a relative’s house. Dad often preferred spending time with relatives, especially after we encouraged him to do so, realizing how much brighter he seemed away from the house, surrounded by friends.
Ever since Mom passed, Dad spoke less. Smiled less. As if the world had dimmed and stayed that way.
When Mom died, Dad suffered a stroke. It began with hypertension, and when he received the news of her passing, he collapsed.
For months, he lay bedridden, able only to move about in a wheelchair, and he would spend his days staring at the wedding band that still clung to his finger.
Even though his condition had improved, he still had to be observed with caution.
His high blood pressure sometimes made him faint, leaving Tsabinu and me worried.
Dad’s illness led him to take early retirement and focus on his recovery.
The memory of that day still stung; the way I had cried as we sold the house filled with our memories of Mom, of us, and moved to a simpler one.
Tsabinu, as the eldest, bore the heaviest burden.
One night, he got rid of everything—every file about Oxford and Cambridge University.
When I asked him why, he smiled with quivering eyes and told me he’d stay here to keep me company.
I hugged him tight, forcing my tears back with everything I had, because it had always been the dream he once shared with Zioh and Zeraiah.
Every time those memories came back, my eyes started to sting. Especially knowing my brother had to work while studying. He took on freelancing, tutoring, and part-time shifts at a coffee shop.
I wanted to help, but Tsabinu insisted I shouldn’t. He said we needed someone at home to watch Dad besides our housemaid, Mbak Mayang. Once he had some income, Tsabinu began investing and building connections. He pushed himself, tirelessly expanding his network wherever he could.
At last, he had a career and a secure position that could provide for Dad and me. I’d also begun to share the load, so he’d no longer be fighting alone. Still, little else seemed to matter to him. He didn’t look for anyone else—only dad and me. Always us.
That was why I’d always tried to be careful. I didn’t want to be a burden on my brother, nor a trigger for dad’s fainting spells, especially since Tsabinu worked for the Danudara family’s company.
I had to be fine.
But I couldn’t. That was why I was hiding in my sanctuary, where I could cry as much as I wanted. I had buried my face in the pillow for nearly two days, muffling sobs so neither Dad nor Tsabinu would hear.
A rhythmic throbbing hammered against my skull. I tried to blink, but my swollen lids resisted, raw and aching. When I tried to swallow, my parched lips cracked.
But nothing hurt more than my chest—it was slashed open so damn deep, I wasn’t sure it could ever heal.
I wanted to scream at myself. Because I brought this pain upon myself.
Even now, the bitter taste of alcohol wouldn’t leave my mouth, the trace of his scent still clinging to my body.
And I scrubbed my face harshly whenever my mind kept replaying the touch I’d shared with Zioh, every breath, each moment, from the hotel early the day before. As though some tragic film reel.
When Zioh had left me that morning, just like that, without even wanting to look at me, his eyes said it all: regret, shame for the memories we had shared.
But what was worse, far worse: were his words.
He said it again. Zioh had the heart to spit those cursed words at me once more, shattering me to pieces, only to trample over the remains.
I sobbed, the images replaying over and over, each word he had spoken like steel twisting deeper into my heart.
“Zi… please, we need to talk,” I whispered, pleading, wrapping myself tighter in the blanket.
Even the birds hadn’t whistled yet, and the man before me looked as though he couldn’t even wait for sunrise to get away from here.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” he burst out.
From the beginning, that had been his reaction—repulsion, disgust at finding me asleep beside him.
It made my chest tighten, and I shrank into myself, the room suddenly feeling far too vast. He shouted again, looking around.
“What the fuck are you doing, Sophie?! Are you bloody insane?! Did you take advantage of me while I was drunk?!” His voice cracked with fury as he yanked on his clothes in a frenzy.
I stared, horrified, and shaking my head, my whole body trembling. “What? No—”
“Fuck you!”
“Zi—please—” I tried to rise, but my feet felt heavy when he snapped again, his voice dark and venomous.
“Stay the fuck away from me.” His threat wasn’t loud. It was certain. His movements were hurried as he continued dressing.
I twisted the sheets in my fists. “Zi, please, sit down. After what happened last night, we need to talk—” But I never finished, because Zioh cut me down with words that sliced through me.
“After what happened last night?” he repeated, his tone glacial.
“Ah, yes. I was drunk, and when I woke up, I found myself trapped in this bloody mess.” He stared at me as if I were something he wanted to ruin.
“Tell me how exactly you seduced me last night, huh?” His body was taut and shaking.
“I know you’re a fucking slag, but I didn’t know you’d do this to me as well. ”
The cruelty in his words made my vision blur as tears poured down. “ZIOH!” Acid burned up my throat. Maybe it wouldn’t have cut so deep if it had been anyone else. But because it was him… Only him… It carved through me.
Once, Zioh was the first to stand up whenever someone hurt me. But now, it turned out he was the one who hurt me the most, in the worst way possible.
“It wasn’t me who seduced you last night, it wasn’t—”
“Oh, so it was me then?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, eyes full of contempt. He pressed, “Say the one who seduced a drunk man!”
“What a fucking slag, Sophi—” He stopped, closing his eyes and shaking his head before straightening his clothes.
“Jerk,” I choked the words out. “You are such a jerk, Zioh.”
“Fucking evil.” I stared at him as he strode to the door, body shaking with fury.
“Same as you.” With that, Zioh left, leaving me alone in a silent room, and only my sobs filled the air.
If it were that simple, Zioh...
I wished it were so that I could feel the same. But the truth was, I couldn’t.
Slut.
That word turned my stomach.
That word left a bruise no one could see, which was why I kept myself distant from any men in my office. My breath caught at the thought that the label could be thrown at me. I’d avoided that word as if it were a plague.
And yet, I heard it again.
This time, from someone who used to always force me to admit that I was a princess.
Now I should be able to hate him, right? Surely I should? That thought screamed in my mind hundreds of times, but my heart denied it thousands more.
Maybe because my heart was confused too, even as my brain screamed, it still kept every memory of us intact. None of them was erased, and it always won.
I’d tried and tried to dig up his broken promises, the wounds he left me with for years. But no matter how deep I dug, no hatred came.
Only pain that kept returning, each time deeper.
Pulling the blanket over my head, I hoped the darkness would carry me into the depths of my subconscious. Only for a moment, I wanted to quiet my mind.
“TSHABINA!!” A booming voice echoed from downstairs, but I didn’t have the strength to respond. I let out a long sigh, resigned to the fact that I was never destined to live in peace.
The voice grew louder, and heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. It was still nine a.m., and the last thing I wanted was this racket outside my room.
The next second, my door burst open with a loud crash. “BIBA—” Andi barged in, breathless. “Hot fucking news! You have to see this—wait…” His voice faltered, and the commotion ended instantly as his eyes fell on me. “What’s wrong?”
He halted in the doorway, staring at me on the bed with horror.
His gaze darted around, taking in my room, his brows furrowing deeper.
“And what the hell happened in here? Are you having World War III in this place?” His tone was half-nervous, half-disgusted.
He rubbed his arms while glancing around.
The bright-colored space was now drowned in gloom. The edge of my sheet slipped out, one of the pillows lying on the floor. The big window remained shut, shutting out the daylight. And the one living creature inside—me—was covered in traces of tears, sprawled on the bed like a corpse.
Andi stepped closer and sat at the edge of the bed. He set his iPad aside and reached out, gently stroking my leg. “Hey… what’s going on?” he asked.
I turned my tearful eyes to him, which was my answer. My chest heaved as sobs broke free again, harder than before, and I poured out all the grief I had been holding back. I rose from the bed and threw myself into his arms.
Andi hugged me, his hand rubbing my back in soothing strokes, giving warmth and comfort. He let out a frustrated breath, as if he was hurting as much as I was.