Swebb Fam

rewed hibiscus tea and soft jazz humming from the speakers. But the air between the f

ce, arms folded tightly, concern written across his brow. "You don't have to go after your best friend," he said, glancing down at Chrissy, who was curled up on the couch, draped in a

k good," she whispered, barely audible. "What would society say about me?" Smith looked at his mother and gave her a small, subtle nod. She walked over calmly and sat beside Chrissy. Pl

edge of her sleeve. "And don't forget..." she added, looking down meaningfully at Chrissy's rounded stomach, "you are now responsible for two people - not just yourself anymore." The gravi

y across her lips, betraying her satisfaction. She knew exactly what she had done - she had ruined May's chances in this house. And sh

y

nt, my face streaked with tears and smeared mascara. My clothes were dusty and wrinkled, my scarf dangling loosely

ldn't end. But this was real. I had been thrown out of my matrimonial home. My husband had chosen her-my b

dy went numb. Until I couldn't cry anymore. Then, with nothing but shame and heartbreak weighing m

rs slumped. But I walked. When I finally reached my parents' apartment, my fingers were trembling as I knocked on the tall iron gate. I could feel eyes on me-neighbors peering from h

n she gasped. "May? Is that you?" Her tone changed instantly-sharp as broken glass. "Your mother-in-law told me you are a disgraceful woman. So

rs instead. "Mom..." I choked out. "Chrissy is pregnant with my husband's child." Her expression didn't soften. It hardened. She curled her lip in disgust. "This is a big disgrace to you," she spat. "Another

nto this house," she said coldly. "You know what the society would say. And you know we are reputable people in

taggered backward and collapsed onto the dirt road just outside the gate. My chest heaved with painful sobs

king, "OMG... how much I hate you, Chrissy." Then I screamed it-to the heavens, to the earth, to the ghosts in the shadows:

e a blade. I turned slowly. Three men leaned against a run-down van nearby, wearing cheap, brightly colored jumpsuits stained with oil and sweat. The sharp, pungent stench of alcohol hit my nose even bef

sed to move. "There she is," one of them said, pointing straight at me. "The gorgeous lady of the hour-May." My stomach dropped. How do they know my name? An

me with her before we discard her like she instructed." Discard. That word echoed through my skull like a gunshot. Discard

olently in my chest, ready to leap from my