The car ride home felt thick. I sat in the backseat, near the window, staring out as familiar streets blurred past.

Aunt Martha was the one driving the car, and Tonia sat closer to her in the front seat. I was always shouted at for accepting a free ride from them. Why would they ride someone like me, even sitting comfortably? I was denied the time to learn to drive. Tonia always reminds me of my wretched life, there is no need to learn it since I would never be able to own a car of my own. I was always forced to bow respectfully to thank them after a successful ride with them. Though it's rare, except for an important matter like this one.

Aunt Martha's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, her jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitching. Tonia kept shooting glances at me through the rearview mirror, her eyes gleaming with a cruel satisfaction.

When we pulled into the driveway of our home, I bowed to both of them, thanking them for the ride.

I was ignored.

The silence was deafening, followed by heavy glares from both of them.

"That thing inside you," Aunt Martha spat as soon as we crossed the threshold,

"It's getting removed tomorrow."

The words hit me hard. I pressed my back against the closed door, my hands instinctively moving to my still-flat stomach.

"The only reason it's still there is because your uncle isn't home yet. He wanted to see for himself." Her voice dripped with disgust.

"Though God knows why he'd want to waste time.When there is an obvious solution to this abomination."

"You're a disgrace," she continued, her voice rising.

"A worthless, shameful girl who couldn't keep her legs closed. What kind of decent woman doesn't even remember who she spread them for?"

"Tell me again," Aunt Martha stepped closer, her breath hot against my face.

"Who did this to you? Were you raped? Because that's the only way I can even begin to understand how my own niece could be so... filthy."

I closed my eyes, desperately searching my fragmented memories. The flashes came in pieces. A voice asking if I was sure, waiting for my breathless "yes."

"Answer me, Kaira!" Aunt Martha's voice cut through the living room.

Tonia leaned forward from the couch, her eyes bright with malicious curiosity.

"Come on, Kaira. Tell us all about your little adventure. Was he at least rich? Or did you throw yourself away on some nobody?"

"I..." The word stuck in my throat.

If I tell them it wasn't rape, that I was willing... it will only make things worse. They'll call me a whore, a slut who deserved everything coming to her. It's better to stay quiet, to endure this until...

"I'm not sure," I finally said, hating myself for the cowardice in my voice.

"Not sure?" Tonia's voice was filled with disbelief.

"Mom, can you hear her? She's 'not sure' if she was even raped."

"I'm sorry," I murmured, the words barely audible.

But Aunt Martha's rage had moved beyond words. Her face was flushed deep red, her hands shaking with fury.

"Tonia," she called.

"Go to the kitchen. Bring me something to teach this little slut a lesson with. My hand is too good for her, and I don't want to dirty it on such a disgusting being."

Terror shot through me...

"Please, Aunt Martha, I.." I was cut off as soon as I started to beg.

"Now, Tonia!"

Tonia bounced off the couch, her excitement was palpable. She returned moments later with a mop stick, having yanked off the fabric head.

"Perfect," Aunt Martha said, testing the weight of the wooden handle in her hands.

The first blow caught me across the shoulders, sending me stumbling forward. The second hit my back, and I cried out despite trying to stay silent. By the third strike, I was on my knees, my arms wrapped protectively around my middle.

"Look at her," Tonia jeered, her voice bright with cruel laughter.

"A bastard protecting her bastard baby. How touching."

The hits kept coming..

I've become a punching bag in this house. Even at my age, even after everything I've done for them. And now I've given them even more reason to continue. If I don't stop this now, when will I ever? Especially with Tonia enjoying every second of my pain.

It angers me, hurting..

I raised my head to glare at Tonia, and our eyes met. She smirked and gave a little wave.

And just then..

"Please stop this, Mom!"

Tony's voice cut through the air. He stood in the doorway, his face pale but determined. He stepped between me and his mother, his arms spread wide.

"Out of my way, Tony." Aunt Martha warned angrily.

"I'm not going anywhere, Mom. Not until you let her be."

The living room fell silent except for my ragged breathing. Tony had never stood up to his mother before. He'd always been kind to me in small ways like slipping me extra food when the others weren't looking, helping with chores when I was exhausted from work, but he'd never openly defied his family.

"What do you think you're doing?" Tonia growled, stepping forward to push her brother aside. But Tony was stronger, and when he pushed back, she tumbled to the floor.

"You pushed your sister because of Kaira?" Aunt Martha screamed at him.

"Your twin sister? When did that start?"

Tony glanced at Tonia, who was glaring at me with pure hatred from her position on the carpet. But he did not apologize.

"Mom, she's human like us. Take a break, please?" His voice was quiet but firm.

"She's someone's child too. Your sister's child."

Aunt Martha stared at Tony as if he'd grown a second head to talk back at her.

"What..?" She muttered in surprise.

Tony helped me to my feet, his touch was gentle despite the tension crackling around us.

"Come on," he murmured, guiding me toward my room.

After I was escorted to my room, Tony left soon. The shouting erupted. Aunt Martha's voice, Tonia's accusations, Tony's quieter but no less determined responses. The words blurred together into a mix of rage and disappointment.

* * *

Miles across the city, Damian James stood outside the door of a private hospital room, his hand hovering over the handle.

"Wait outside," he told his secretary.

The chairman's eyes opened as Damian stepped into the room.

"Dad, I'm here," Damian said, in a calm voice.

"Damian." The name came out rough, followed by a cough that shook the chairman's entire frame.

"Have you thought about it? You're here because of it, right?"

Damian said nothing, but his silence was answer enough.

"She's beautiful," The chairman continued, desperation creeping into his voice.

"Sarah's family has excellent connections, it would benefit both companies."

The words hung in the air between them. Damian let out a slow breath.

"Is that your only reason, Dad? because of the company?" Damien said.

"I thought you wanted me to have a family of my own." He added.

"You are right. I just want you to be married, can't wait to have a grandchild, and for the future of our company." The chairman replied.

"Bring her home. I know there's someone right?" The chairman asked, curiously.

"I'm sorry, Dad. Please give me more time to think about it."

"When?" The chairman blurted out.

"Until I'm dead? Will you only get married then? You're the heir, Damian. I don't have much time left!"

He struggled to sit up straighter, his eyes boring into Damien's face.

"What about an heir? You need to produce the next generation. Start with marriage, for God's sake."

"Sarah... don't you like her? You two have been close since childhood."

Damien's jaw tightened almost unnoticed.

"Dad. I'll take care of this soon. Give me some time." Damian replied.

"You have a month, or I will do things my way." The chairman warned.

Damian stood to leave, bowing slightly to the chairman before heading out.

Suddenly, the memory came again, clearer this time.

His expression was perplexed.

* * *

The shouting continued beyond the door. I sat on the edge of my bed, my body aching from the beating, my mind racing with possibilities and fears.

Through the walls, I could hear Tonia's voice rising above the others.

"Are we just going to leave her in there resting? Just because Tony said so? While we wait for Dad, she should go to the grocery store and get something for lunch."

"There's food in the house," Tony said, in a weary voice but still defensive.

"There isn't!" Tonia retorted. Her lie was so obvious.

"She should go get something for us!" She added, loudly.

"How could she, in her condition..."

"Her condition be damn!" Tonia interrupted. Her voice filled with rage, my hatred.

"Let me finish..." Tony started, but got interrupted soon.

"Tonia is right." Aunt Martha's voice cut through Tony's protest.

"How dare she rest after everything she's put us through?"

"Go get her, Tonia."

"Wait," Tony stopped her quickly.

"I'll get her." He said.

"You better!" Tonia replied.

I heard footsteps approaching my door and felt something shift inside me.

A growing determination.

"Yes. Before Uncle comes back, I should escape. I should run from this hell." I thought to myself, my heart pounding with a mixture of terror and hope.

* * *

The soft knock on my door came exactly as I'd expected.

"Kaira? I'm coming in," Tony said.

I quickly composed myself. When Tony entered, his face was filled with the same pity I'd grown accustomed to seeing from him.

"Are you... Okay?" He asked, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"I'm fine," I said, forcing a weak smile.

"Thank you for what you did out there. You didn't have to..."

"Why not?" His interruption came quickly and intensely.

"I should have stepped up sooner, then it might not have turned out this way. I'm sorry, Kaira. I'm so sorry for all of this. It's my fault." Tonia added.

"You are someone special.. and I.. I let them continuously hurt you for so long. I was a fool.."

The genuine remorse in his voice made my throat tighten. I looked away, afraid I might cry.

"And now, they want you to go to the grocery store," he continued, his hands fidgeting at his sides.

"I know it's not fair, I.. let me go with you.. "

"No. You don't have to. I'll be fine, brother." The word slipped out naturally.

But Tony's face crumpled at the word. He made a small clicking sound with his teeth, a nervous habit I'd noticed whenever I called him brother, but I never understood why. He prefers I call him by his name.

The sadness in his eyes deepened, and I wondered what memory I'd triggered.

He let out a deep breath, his head facing downward,

"Please forgive me. My cowardice ends today." He said, intensely.

I replied with a nod and stood to leave, but his hand caught mine.

"Wait. I'll be right back." He said.

"But.." I was cut off as soon as I started talking.

"I've got you," he said simply, and disappeared from the room.

He returned minutes later with a tube of pain relief gel.

"Thank you," I breathed, accepting the tube with trembling fingers.

I began applying it to the visible bruises on my arms, but when I tried to reach the spots on my back, Tony stepped forward.

"Let me." He said.

I hesitated before slowly lifting the back of my shirt, exposing the red welts left by the mop handle. His intake of breath was sharp, pained.

"Ouch!" The exclamation escaped before I could stop it as the gel touched a particularly tender spot.

"Sorry, sorry," he murmured, his touch becoming even gentler.

"I'll be more careful."

His hands were steady as they worked, applying the medicine carefully. When he finished with my back, he guided me to sit on the bed again.

"I'm not finished yet." He said.

"Is there more?" I asked.

"Your face. Some parts are swollen." He replied.

My fingers moved to my cheek, finding the tender spots I'd somehow missed.

As Tony began applying the gel to my face, his movements slowed. His eyes grew distant, and his hand lingered on my cheek with a gentleness...

"Tony?" I called softly.

No response. His thumb traced the curve of my cheekbone as if he were memorizing it.

"Tony?"

Still nothing. His breathing had changed, and there was something in his expression I couldn't quite read..

"Brother!" I said more firmly.

He blinked, startled back to the present.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I was..." He pulled his hand away abruptly, color rising in his cheeks.

"I'm done." He finally said, calmly.

I stood to leave, genuinely grateful.

"Thank you," I said.

His hand caught mine again, holding me in place with surprising strength.

"What are you doing? They're waiting outside. I'll only complicate things if I don't leave now, Tony."

"I know. But, Kaira..." He paused, struggling with words that seemed too heavy for his tongue.

"I-I.." He stuttered.

"Is it really true that you don't remember anything about it?" He asked.

Before I could answer, he continued,

"No, it's a good thing you don't remember him." He said.

"I'll come with you, Kaira. Let's go to the hospital before Dad's return. Let's abort the baby." He said, in a serious tone.

The betrayal hit me.

"Even you?"

The words slipped out before I could stop them, carrying all the hurt and disappointment of discovering that my last ally had joined them.

"Let go of my hand," I said weakly.

He released me just as weakly, and I walked away from him, feeling more alone than I ever had...

* * *

Inside the car, Damien James stared out the tinted windows as the city blurred past. The conversation with his father replayed in his mind, but it was overshadowed by the growing clarity of that night.

"Take me to the sketch artist downtown," he told his secretary.

Soon, they arrived there. The artist asked detailed questions as her pencil moved across the paper. Eye shape, nose, the curve of lips, the way her hair had fallen across her shoulders..

"Yes, this is it. I think." Damien studied the finished portrait.

He handed the portrait to his secretary. "Find her. Everywhere and anywhere. She must be found, no matter what it takes."

The secretary bowed slightly.

"Yes, sir. Any particular place you have in mind?"

Damien paused.

"Check the bars first. The Meridian, The Glass House, places like that." He said, unsure.

As his secretary left with the portrait, Damien settled back into his car.

"Dad, just a little more time. You'll get what you want. The marriage.. but not with Sarah." He said, inwardly.

* * *

The neighborhood felt different as I stepped outside to go to the grocery store. Eyes followed me from different directions.

"Tonia. She's done her specialty again." I said, inwardly.

Tonia had always been gifted at spreading gossip, turning small truths into dramatic scandals. Just in for my downfall.

Mrs. Chen, who lived three houses down, deliberately stuck her foot out as I passed. I stumbled, my hands scraping against the floor as I caught myself.

"Oops," she said.

"How clumsy. I'm sorry." She added, faking an apology before leaving.

Before I could get up, two girls from high school approached me. Both were younger sisters of Tonia's friend

"Look who it is," the taller one sneered.

"The neighborhood's newest prostitute." She added.

"I heard she doesn't even know who the father is," her friend said, mockingly.

The familiar shame began to rise in my throat. Together with anger that burned away the self-pity I'd been drowning in.

"So what?" I stood up, brushing dirt from my hands.

"Why do you even care when you're not the one carrying the baby?"

The taller girl's eyes widened with surprise.

"Look at her, raising her voice at us. Do you think you're special because you have a bastard inside you? You should be ashamed!" She said, in a bit louder voice.

"A bitch carrying a bastard," her friend chimed in with a cruel laugh.

"How ridiculous." How ridiculous.

The word hit me like a slap, but instead of crumbling, I stood up.

"I advise you girls to leave. Now." I said, firmly.

"Or what?" They retorted with a scoff.

"People will always believe a lie," I said, my voice steady despite the fury coursing through me, "because they want it to be true or are afraid it might be true," I added, letting out a short smile.

"People who get swayed by gossip don't care about the truth anyway."

I dusted off my clothes and walked past them, deliberately bumping the second girl's shoulder hard enough to make her stumble.

They stood there with their mouths open, shocked by this version of me they'd never seen before.

"My baby did nothing wrong," I said to myself, inwardly as I walked away with my head held high.

"He isn't even born yet, and he's already being treated like this. No matter what happens, I won't let my child see me broken. I won't let him be treated the way I've been treated." I added.

The grocery store was just across the main street now. Lost in thought, about how my future had turned, I stepped off the curb without looking.

The screech of brakes and the blare of a horn pierced the air. I looked up to see a black sedan bearing down on me, the driver's eyes wide with panic behind the windshield.

Time slowed. I couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but stare at the approaching car.

Then something slammed into me from the side...

Strong arms wrapped around me as we both tumbled away from the car, rolling across the rough asphalt in a tangle of limbs.

The sedan squealed past, missing us by inches.

I lay there gasping, my rescuer's weight pinning me to the ground. When I finally looked up, I found myself staring into familiar eyes.

"Are you hurt?" he gasped, blood trickling from a cut on his forehead where he'd hit the pavement. His eyes were filled with concern.

"Oliver James?"

* * *

Oliver James was a senior at my university.

I remembered him from my first year, when I was scrambling for every penny to stay enrolled and he was gliding through his final year like he owned the world. The rumors about him being transferred from some prestigious university abroad to here followed him. His reasons were that he preferred home.

Everything about him had irritated me then. The designer clothes, the casual way he'd buy coffee for entire study groups without blinking, the confidence that came from never having to check your bank account before ordering anything. I'd lumped him in with all the other rich spoiled kids. Shallow, completely disconnected from reality.

But Oliver had always been... different. When I'd dropped my books rushing to my part-time job, he'd helped me gather them. When other students whispered about me, being a money grubber, he'd simply nod hello like I was worth his time.

It had confused me, made me question my hatred of anyone born with a silver spoon. But I'd pushed those doubts away. Rich people were all the same, I'd told myself. He was probably just better at hiding it.

And there was also a time when he adamantly escorted me to one of my part-time jobs at a convenience store, which was a night shift. Even when I had told him he didn't have to, he refused.

"I can't allow a lady to walk at night alone." He said.

I reminded him we aren't close enough for him to be concerned about my safety, but still..

He waited longer than I had thought, helping me arrange things at the store, taking out expiring products as per my boss's command.

Tonia stopped by that day, showing her real self just as always, with no reason. She took some snacks without paying. I didn't say anything because it had always been like that. I pay for it. But instead of leaving, she decided to humiliate me before Oliver stepped in.

"Leave while I'm saying nicely." He said, calmly.

Tonia glared at me, stunned by his appearance before leaving shortly.

Since then, her jealousy increased; she thought there was something between me and Oliver. And told me to stay away from him that she likes him and will have him soon.

He was never mine to begin with. Who cares?

# Back in the present#

"Kaira..." Oliver's voice was barely above a whisper, and then his eyes rolled back, his body going limp.

"Wait, what?" I murmured.

Panic shot through me as I scrambled for my phone, my hands shaking so badly I could barely dial. The paramedics seemed to take forever, though it was probably only minutes. As they loaded Oliver onto the stretcher, I followed without thinking, my heart pounding with guilt and fear.

He'd saved me. Again.

* * *

Damien James sat behind his desk, the portrait spread before him. His secretary stood at attention, having just delivered a report.

"Her name is Kaira Yaren, business major at Metropolitan University," He said.

Then tucked in his hand inside his pocket to get his phone. He sent Kaira photos to Damien instantly.

"Sir, I just sent you a photo of Ms Kaira."

Damian stared at it immediately, taking in her features for a while before ordering his secretary to delete the photo from his phone.

He breathed a sigh of relief after finally getting back all of his memories. Alcohol, sure did them bad? They were both lightweight. So, of course, they were easily drunk.

She seemed nice, innocent, and..

"Go on with your report." He ordered, his face stoic.

"She is twenty years old and worked part-time at The Glass House as a bartender until about four weeks ago, then disappeared from their employment records."

"Twenty years," Damien murmured,

"She's young." He added.

"Probably too young for the complications my world would bring her." He said, inwardly.

"That metropolitan, isn't that where my brother is schooling?" He asked.

"Oliver, he's also a business major, right?" He added.

"Yes sir." His secretary replied.

"Find where she lives. Making discreet without Oliver finding out about it," he ordered, his expression hard.

"Let me know as soon as you get her current address." He added.

His secretary bowed slightly.

"Yes, sir. Immediately."

"May I ask how important this lady is?" Curiously, his secretary asked.

"It's not in your place to ask," Damien replied.

"But I will answer your question, to avoid you losing your job soon." He added.

"Kaira, she will become my wife soon. And your boss.

So when you find her, be reminded of this and treat her well. Being rude to her is the same as insulting me." Damien said, in a serious manner.

"I will bear that in mind sir." His secretary said in a bow.

"And if words link out, be ready to bear the consequences," Damian warned.

"You may leave." He added.

* * *

In the hospital, I sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair beside Oliver's bed, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, trying to process what the doctor had just told me.

"Miss Yaren," Dr. Patel said gently,

"Mr. Oliver has a history of previous injuries. The impact when he hit the pavement aggravated an old leg injury, and the head trauma could potentially cause temporary memory loss. We won't know the extent until he wakes up."

"What?" The word had fallen from my lips. I'd rubbed the back of my head, completely at a loss for words.

The doctor had given me that sympathetic kind but distant look.

"We're hoping he'll wake up within forty-eight hours, but I can't make any guarantees. These things depend entirely on the patient."

The doctor had also advised me about stress, after a quick check on me.

"You need a lot of rest, Miss. You are carrying a child inside of you." Dr Patel said.

I thanked him for his kind gesture and also used the opportunity to ask him, I wasn't sure, I wasn't going to do it either but I asked regardless.

"About... aborting the baby, Dr." I paused.

"Do not try it except you do not want to ever have a child of your own." The doctor said.

"I regret informing you, but if you get rid of the baby, you won't be able to conceive again. So, the choice is yours." He added.

I wasn't going to kill my child anyway, and I also regretted asking something like that.

Now, staring at Oliver's still form, guilt ate at me...

"You should have let me take the hit," I thought, then immediately felt sick as my hand moved instinctively to my stomach.

But Oliver... what if he never woke up? What if he did wake up but didn't remember anything? having signed the forms when no family could be reached.

The responsibility felt crushing. How could I go back to that house? When Oliver might need someone to help him recover...

A memory surfaced.

There was this run-down apartment I'd put a deposit on months ago. It was tiny, barely more than a room with a kitchenette. The apartment was hidden in a maze of narrow streets near the university. I'd planned to move there to be closer to school, but had never found the courage to tell my aunt and uncle. I'd been considering asking for my deposit back.

Now it seemed like providence.

The money I'd saved for next year's tuition would have to go toward completing the rent. It would mean delaying my return to school even longer, as I had already missed a whole semester. But what choice did I have?

"I will be back for you, Oliver," I murmured before leaving.

* * *

Soon, after the grocery shopping, I rushed home immediately. The house felt more hostile. Tonia was waiting by the front door.

"What took you so long?" she demanded before I'd even crossed the threshold.

"Out flirting with another man? A married one this time?"

I tried to walk past her, exhaustion weighing down my limbs, but her hand shot out and grabbed my hair, yanking me backward.

"Come back here! I haven't finished talking. How rude!"

Pain shot across my scalp, but I gritted my teeth.

I told myself to just endure it a little longer.

"Do you think because you've tasted what adults do, you can act like one? How brazen!"

My patience finally snapped.

"I know. Please let a bitch like me rest."

Tonia's eyes went wide with outrage.

"MOM!" she shrieked.

"MOM, COME HEAR WHAT KAIRA JUST SAID TO ME!"

Aunt Martha's footsteps approached quickly, her face already twisted with rage before she even knew what had happened.

"She called me a bitch!" Tonia lied smoothly, tears actually managing to gather in her eyes.

"I was just asking where she'd been, and she started insulting me! As her older sister, I deserve respect!"

"What did you say to her?" Aunt Martha asked, angrily.

The truth didn't matter. It has never been in this house. Before I could even attempt to defend myself, Aunt Martha's hand connected with the side of my head, sending me stumbling into the wall. The grocery bags fell from my hands, cans rolling across the floor.

"Two years older!" Aunt Martha continued, punctuating each word with another blow.

"You think because you're grown enough to spread your legs, you can disrespect your elders? I'll teach you the home training you deserve!"

I curled into myself, one hand protecting my face, the other wrapped around my stomach as Aunt Martha landed me with a slap.

"Be strong, Kaira. Endure just a little while..." I said to myself, inwardly.

But Tonia wasn't satisfied with just watching. With a cruel smirk, she pushed my protective hand away from my stomach.

"What are you protecting?" she said, mockingly.

"Your little bastard?" she added.

"Thank God Tony isn't around to save you this time, let's see how long you endure.

Tears I'd been holding back finally spilled over.

Aunt Martha raised her hand for another strike, this one aimed directly at my face. I closed my eyes, bracing for impact.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The sound of someone pounding on the front door echoed through the house, but my aunt was too focused on her rage to notice. Tonia also.

BANG!

The door burst open on the third knock, just as Aunt Martha's hand began its descent toward my face.

A hand caught her wrist mid-swing.

"What do you think you're doing?!" The voice was filled with anger.

Aunt Martha's mouth fell open in shock. Tonia took a step backward.

I slightly raised my head up...

* * *