I waltz through the property, but I canât escape the guards. They follow me wherever I go and donât give me a second to breathe.
I spin on my heels. âLeave me alone!â I yell at them.
They donât even seem to notice, let alone act.
When I continue walking, they do too.
How long will this go on? How much further will Noah go to keep me under his thumb?
He dragged me away from my mother when Iâd finally found her. I tried so hard to speak with her, and now I canât. Whenever I try to get close to her room, the guards block my path.
âGet out of my way,â I hiss at them.
âWe cannot,â one of them replies. âPatriarchâs orders.â
âWell, Iâm his wife, and I command you to step aside,â I growl.
âPatriarchâs orders are above those of a matriarch,â he replies.
I grunt out loud and march in the opposite direction, furious at this constant stalking. Iâm not a child who needs to be kept from dangerous things. I donât need to be contained to my room. I donât need anything except peace of mind and freedom.
What I wouldnât give for the latter â¦
But Noah is dead set on keeping me here, and it doesnât seem likely that heâll ever budge. I shouldâve never assumed that I could worm my way into his heart and make him do the right thing. Heâll never give me what I want because Iâm part of his âplan,â whatever that means. He says Iâm so important, yet he wonât share any information. What am I supposed to do with that? Sit back and let it all happen?
Annoyed, I go back to my room and slam the door shut in the guardsâ faces. I pound on it again with my fist for good measures and hopefully to scare them just a little bit. I donât have any power, but at least I can do that.
I go to the barred window and look outside. There are far more guards out there than usual, probably because of me and my mother escaping the temple. Two matriarchs fleeing the Holy Land? Thatâll surely put a dent in peopleâs faiths, which Iâm sure the patriarchs would like to avoid at all cost. Theyâll nip any resistance in the bud within a second.
Which is why Iâm so confused about what Noahâs doing. Why would he get me out of here only to bring me back in when Iâm much older? Why would anyone go through that trouble? Unless he changed his mind about letting me go â¦
But why? Is it because of my father, the president?
Just thinking about him as my father makes me cringe and shiver.
The president ⦠the most powerful man in this community ⦠created me.
The same man who rules this monstrous place.
My father.
I refuse to acknowledge it.
Even if itâs true, Iâll never once call him my father.
Does he even know? Does he know Iâm his daughter, or did Noah not tell him? Did he know my mother and Noah schemed together to get me out? Probably not.
No wonder Noah wanted to keep me and my mother separated.
I sit down on my bed and take a few seconds to breathe. My lungs feel constricted, and my heart is racing from all the information swirling in my head. Itâs all becoming a bit too much.
Standing up, I take off my dress and tear off my bra and anything left between, chucking it all into the corner of the room. Naked, I stand in front of the mirror and look at my body and at the scar that rests near my belly. My hand glides over the not so smooth skin, and it erupts into goose bumps. To think this scar was the result of love ⦠and that it wounded me so much. Not just my body but my soul too. And now a man wants to claim my body as though it could do all of that all over again?
No way. I feel sick. So sick that I run to the toilet and throw myself down just in time before I hurl. After Iâve flushed, I wash my mouth and hands in the sink and stare at the woman in the mirror. I thought I knew that woman, but the longer I look, the more I feel a stranger is staring back at me.
My body tenses and cramps up, and I hold my belly as I sit down on the toilet and wait until it passes. I feel as though someoneâs trying to rip into me, and I feel so dizzy all of the sudden. Whatâs happening to me?
I open the tiny wall closet, hoping to find medicine, but thereâs only one bottle of painkillers, and it contains a single pill. Lucky me. I pop it and swallow it down without water. But something else in that closet catches my eye, and I canât tear them away.
A pregnancy test.
I swallow again and contemplate closing the door and pretending I never saw it, but I did. And a part of me wonders â¦
I grab it, pull it out of the box, and take off the plastic. Then I sit down on the toilet and look at it for a few seconds. Oh, what the heck. Itâs not as if Iâll lose anything from not knowing.
Besides, my panties were already ripped off while I was in the grass, so Iâm already halfway there.
With spread legs, I push the stick underneath and pee on it.
Then the waiting begins.
I bite my lips as I tightly clutch the stick.
How long does it take? Seconds? Minutes?
Time is ticking, and so is my heart because the last time I did this, I wasnât prepared ⦠but now, Iâm even more unprepared.
Because when that stick turns bright blue ⦠two lines ⦠my heart sinks into my shoes.
No, no, no, no!
I canât be ⦠pregnant?
How?
When?
Then it dawns on me ⦠that time with Noah in the Jacuzzi.
The stick drops from my hands, and I immediately run out of the bathroom and shut the door behind me, staring at the wood as if the devil himself is behind those walls.
Thud. Thud.
âNatalie?â
Itâs Noah.
Shit.
âNatalie? I know youâre in there. We need to talk,â he says.
âWait,â I mutter as I hastily put on a new outfit. All they have in the closet are dresses, so I have to make do with a black flowery one.
âIâm coming in,â Noah says.
The door opens before I have a chance to answer, and Iâve only just zipped up my dress. The guards have gone, and I assume Noah told them to leave. Typical.
Still, Iâm quaking on my feet when I come face to face with the man who is supposed to be my husband ⦠and now the father of my child too.
No, I canât think like that. Maybe that stick showed something in error. That happens, right?
âIââ Heâs already opened his mouth and was about to say something, but then he stops. âYou look beautiful.â
The sheer honesty in the way he says it brings a flush to my cheeks.
I shouldnât let him get to me like that, but itâs hard in a place like this ⦠And with a man who can so easily spin my heart around his finger.
But I canât allow him to just wriggle his way back in.
âLook, I wanted to apologize forââ
âDonât,â I interject, raising my finger. No matter how good the apologies sound, theyâre void if he doesnât mean it. âYouâre not sorry for what you did; youâre mad I managed to escape and that you got caught in a lie.â
âI didnât want it to be like this. I donât want to hurt you,â he says. âI only wanted to protect you.â
âBy keeping me away from my mother?â I hiss.
His face turns dark. âI did it for your own good.â
Always the lies ⦠so many lies â¦
I push the tears back. âNo, you did it so I wouldnât talk to my father about your dirty plans.â
Noahâs eyes suddenly widen, and I know I have him.
âHe doesnât know Iâm his daughter, does he?â I ask.
He doesnât answer, which is all I need to know the truth.
âI knew it,â I growl, and I immediately barge at him.
He grabs my arm. âWhere do you think youâre going?â
âLet me go. Iâm the presidentâs daughter,â I say through gritted teeth.
âYouâre forgetting youâre also my wife now. A patriarch stands above all, including matriarchs and daughters of presidents,â he quips. âAnd do you honestly think heâll listen to you? Youâre mistaken if you think heâs a kind man.â
Iâm fuming, and I donât believe a word he says. âI donât care. Itâs worth trying.â
âYouâre just doing this to try to hurt me,â he says. âI know Iâve caused you a lot of pain, but doing this wonât make it any better, Natalie, and you know that. Revenge is never an answer to solve your problems.â
âItâs a start,â I spit back.
Suddenly, a large explosion rocks me to my core, and I duck, and so does Noah.
âWhat was that?â I yell.
âI donât know,â he says, which makes it even scarier.
How does he, a patriarch, not know whatâs going on in his own community? They set the rules, they govern, they punish ⦠which means if he doesnât know, someoneâs gone rogue.
Noah helps me up from the floor, and asks, âAre you okay?â
âYes,â I reply, even though Iâm still mad at him.
âStay here,â he says, and he immediately runs out the door.
I rush out toward the staircase and peer over the banisters. All the guards and even the regular helpers around the house are scattering and running around, most of them heading for the door with what looks like buckets and hoses. What the heck is going on out there?
I tiptoe down the stairs to have a closer look. I know he told me to stay in my room, but I canât help it ⦠Iâve always been a rule breaker.
The front door is wide open with no one in sight. Should I take the chance?
Clutching the doorframe, I gaze outside. Out in the distance, thereâs a hut ⦠or what remains of it. Itâs completely in shambles, and a fireâs destroying the wooden rubble as well as the grass surrounding it.
âOh my â¦â
I canât even finish my sentence as I witness the onslaught down below. Several huts are on fire, and itâs spreading so quickly thereâs no stopping it. The people are gathering around the fires, throwing buckets filled with water from the wells, but itâs like throwing a glass of water into a giant burning pile. They have hoses, but even those canât fill up quickly enough to fight the fires.
Another explosion follows. I duck again and cover myself as debris flies everywhere across the community grounds.
Thatâs when I spot her ⦠the woman huddled in a corner of one of the burning huts â¦
My mother.
âMom, no!â I yell, but it falls on deaf ears. âSomeone save her!â
Thereâs no one around, so I run down the steps onto the pavement and across the grass.
But then her eyes home in on mine, and the dark, blank stare she sends in my direction is chilling to the bone. She rigidly shakes her head at me. At first, I think Iâm seeing things again, that whatâs happening isnât real, but it is. I know it is because people swarm all around the buildings in an effort to save them ⦠and to stop the fires she started.
A single look is all it takes to tell the truth.
Just one look ⦠and I know she did this.
On purpose.
She mouths two words. âGo. Now.â
My breath catches in my throat as my lips part and tears fill my eyes.
I want to shake my head at her, scream, run to her, save her from the fire all by myself, even if it kills me, but a strongly non-worded, âNo,â from her mouth as she shakes her head stops me from doing just that.
My lips rub together as I struggle to keep the tears at bay. And then she smiles. Itâs a simple smile, but a smile that could light a thousand hearts.
I give her back the best smile I could ever muster.
And then I run.