Chapter 14: Alone In The Mall
"Walking again like an outcast, dear sister?"
Selena’s voice rang out, sickly sweet and sharp enough to cut through bone.
I stopped dead in my tracks. My heart thudded painfully against my ribs as I braced myself. Then, as if twisting the knife a little deeper, Selena stuck her tongue out at
— a childish, cruel gesture that made my stomach churn.
For a mont, I couldn’t move. There was a lump in my throat, thick and unyielding, and my vision blurred at the edges. My chest burned, but I swallowed hard, forcing the sting behind my eyes to stay put.
Not now. Not for her.
I blinked rapidly, fixing my gaze on the gravel beneath my feet, listening as the car’s engine purred and faded into the distance.
Then there was only silence — a loud, suffocating kind of silence — and the sound of my own footsteps echoing against the long road ahead.
Every step felt heavier than the last. The twenty-minute walk to the gate stretched like an eternity, with Selena’s voice playing on a loop in my head.
Outcast. Outcast. Outcast.
By the ti I reached the gate, my Uber driver was leaning against his car, arms crossed and face pinched in irritation.
"You know I’ve been waiting, right?" he huffed the second I appeared.
"I’m so sorry," I said quickly, voice soft but sincere. "Thank you for waiting. I couldn’t co sooner."
He muttered sothing under his breath but jerked his head toward the car. I slid into the back seat, shutting the door with shaky hands.
As we pulled away, I let my head fall back against the seat, watching the estate lights shrink and disappear behind .
The sting of Selena’s words still clung to my skin, but sowhere beneath the humiliation was a flicker of sothing stronger.
Tonight isn’t about Selena.
It’s about .
About taking back what’s mine, about showing Dad — showing everyone — that I deserve more than just scraps.
I clenched my jaw, gripping my bag a little tighter as I gave the driver the address to the boutique.
I wasn’t going to be a victim tonight.
If I was going for the kill, I needed a killer dress.
The car rolled to a stop in front of the grand mall, its glass exterior gleaming beneath a cascade of glowing lights. I stepped out, smoothing down the hem of my dress, and offered the driver a quiet "Thank you" before turning toward the entrance.
The air was cool, humming with distant conversations and the soft whir of passing cars.
I tilted my head back, taking a deep breath — trying to steady the wild thrum of my heart.
It’s just a mall. Not a battlefield.
But as I stared up at the towering facade of glass and neon signs, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than a shopping trip. This was a statent.
People stread in and out, so laughing, others speaking hurriedly into their phones, arms weighed down with bags from high-end stores. They belonged here. They knew the rhythm of this place.
I didn’t.
Still, I squared my shoulders and stepped inside.
The air-conditioning was a cold slap against my skin, and the mall buzzed with life — the scent of fresh coffee and designer perfus swirling together. Escalators humd softly, ferrying shoppers between floors. The polished tiles glead beneath my feet.
It was nothing like the estate — where the silence scread louder than words ever could.
This place was alive.
And sohow, that made
feel even smaller.
I walked without a plan, my eyes scanning the shops for anything familiar. Each passing second made
more aware of how out of place I must’ve looked — alone, without shopping bags or a gaggle of friends.
Why didn’t I bring soone?
Oh, right. I don’t have anyone.
The thought hit harder than I expected. I blinked it away, tightening my grip on my bag.
I needed to focus. I was here for one reason: to find the right dress.
But after several minutes of wandering aimlessly, I caved. I needed help.
Spotting a middle-aged woman by the directory map, I approached her, keeping my voice steady. "Excuse ," I started softly. "Do you know where the luxury—"
She spun around sharply, her face twisting with suspicion. "I don’t have anything to give you!" she snapped, clutching her bag to her chest like I was about to rip it from her hands.
I blinked, stunned. "I wasn’t asking for—"
But she was already striding away, muttering under her breath.
I just stood there, my cheeks blazing with humiliation.
It wasn’t the first ti I’d been misjudged.
Didn’t an it hurt any less.
I forced myself to move, keeping my head down as I navigated the crowd again. But now, every glance felt sharper, every whisper sounded louder — like they all saw
as the girl who didn’t belong.
Then —
"Hey!"
The voice was bright, cutting through the noise like a spark of color.
I tensed, unsure if it was ant for . Still, instinct made
turn.
A girl was rushing toward
— petite, with soft shoulder-length hair sowhere between brown and dark red.
She had the kind of smile that lit up a room — warm, wide, and utterly infectious.
I blinked. ? Is she talking to ?
"Hey, pretty miss!" she said, stopping in front of . Her voice was almost flirty, but in a playful, teasing way.
I felt my face heat. "H-Hi... cute miss," I stamred. The words slipped out before I could stop them.
The girl squealed, clapping her hands together like I’d just handed her a winning lottery ticket. "Oh my god! I love you already. You totally match my vibe!"
"I... I do?" I asked, completely bewildered.
"Yes!" she said with a dramatic hair toss. "We’re going to be best friends. I just know it."
Best friends? Just like that?
I blinked again. Twice.
Her energy was like a whirlwind — loud, chaotic, but oddly comforting. I found myself smiling despite the confusion twisting in my chest.
"I’m Hermia," I said softly, the na tasting strange in my mouth — like I was reintroducing myself to the world for the first ti.
"I’m Jasmine!" she declared, like her na alone was an event.
Then, without missing a beat, she pinned
with a playful, intense stare.
"Do you have a best friend?"
I froze.
The question hit harder than I expected.
My mouth opened... then closed again.
I didn’t have an answer.
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