I stepped forward, arms open, attempting to envelop Anissa in a comforting hug.
"Anissa, I'm so sorry," I whispered, my voice filled with empathy.
But she pushed me away, her eyes blazing with a mix of pain and anger.
"Where were you tonight?" she demanded, her voice firm but laced with worry.
"I was worried sick," she added, her brow furrowed.
I hesitated, trapped between loyalty and honesty.
Unable to reveal the truth about my whereabouts, I stuttered.
"I was just...out," I faltered.
Anissa's gaze narrowed, suspicion etched on her face.
"You were out?" she repeated.
"What were you doing?" she pressed.
I shifted uncomfortably.
Anissa's eyes turned cold.
As she turned, her gaze swept across my neck.
And landed on the hickey.
Her expression shifted.
From pain to outrage.
"Unbelievable," she snapped.
"Focus on your life, Dahlia," she warned.
"Your career."
"Don't ruin it with reckless decisions."
Her voice dripped disapproval.
I felt exposed.
Guilty.
My eyes dropped.
As I retreated to the sanctuary of my room, the door clicked shut behind me, enveloping me in a silence that was both calming and unsettling. My mind, however, was far from still. It raced with questions, each one tumbling over the other in a maddening quest for answers.
What was behind Clyde's drastic transformation? The Clyde I thought I knew would never treat anyone with such callous disregard. His kindness, his compassion, and his warm smile were just a few of the qualities that had drawn me to him. But tonight, a different person had emerged. A person I didn't recognize.
Memories of our time together flooded my thoughts. I remembered the way he'd listen with genuine interest, the way his eyes would light up when he laughed, and the gentle way he'd touch my arm when we walked side by side. Tonight's harsh reality clashed violently with those cherished memories.
I paced across my room, attempting to make sense of the chaos. What could have triggered such a drastic change? Had I been blind to a side of Clyde that others saw? Or had something - or someone - altered him?
Aunt Trisha's urgent words echoed in my mind: "Protect my son." From what, or whom? The desperation in her voice hinted at secrets, secrets that could unravel the very fabric of our relationships.
Anissa's tears continued to haunt me. Her pleas, her pain, and her desperation all converged, painting a heartbreaking portrait of a woman on the brink of collapse. And Clyde's words - those cruel, heartless words - cut deeper with each passing moment.
"How could he?" I whispered aloud, my voice barely audible.
The next morning, Anissa burst into the kitchen, radiating excitement, her face aglow with anticipation.
"I did it, Dahlia!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion. "I got the audition for the lead role in 'Eternal Night'!"
Her eyes sparkled like diamonds, shining bright with hope and possibility.
"This could be it," she whispered, her tone barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator. "This could launch my career, open doors to new opportunities."
I smiled, caught up in her infectious enthusiasm.
"That's amazing, Ani!" I congratulated, genuinely thrilled for her.
We spent the morning rehearsing lines, perfecting gestures, and building confidence.
Anissa's passion and dedication were inspiring.
As we finished, Clyde walked into the kitchen.
Anissa's face lit up, expecting to share her joy.
"Clyde, I have the audition today!" she shared, her voice bubbling with excitement.
But Clyde's expression remained icy, his eyes cold and unresponsive.
No congratulations.
No encouragement.
Anissa's enthusiasm faltered, her smile wavering.
As she turned to leave, Clyde's voice stopped her.
"Good luck," he said.
Flat.
Detached.
Anissa's eyes searched his face.
For a glimmer of support.
Of love.
But Clyde's face remained impassive.
Unyielding.
The contrast between his words and tone was striking.
Anissa's shoulders sagged.
She left the kitchen.
Deflated.
I watched.
Concerned.