Beau Monde ✅

Chapter 14

Nailah Zayed.

Maroudi, Nigeria.

I hated my life. I still do.

One would think living a life like mine would be great. But, let's be honest, what's great about being a prisoner adorned but never cradled in gold?

What is so great about living a life that was never mine to begin with? What's great about living a life built on lies?

The perfect life? Don't make me laugh.

Every single day feels like torture. I have to live with the constant fear of being exposed, and live up the expectations set up for me. Do you know how bothersome and tiring that is?

The gold and glitter that adorns my life does nothing to lessen that worry. They can dress me up, and change me into being this...perfect woman in everyone's eyes. But, at the end of the day, we all know that I'm nothing but trash.

One that they can dispose anytime they want.

A prisoner in this world of theirs that will never fit in.

Still, I tried my hardest to slip into shoes that weren't mine even if that meant getting splinters as a result of that. I still wore it and took the injury, and pain with pride. For someone like me who had nothing, getting everything in life is something I needed to fight for and keep.

I'm already in the role, aren't I? All I needed to do is suck it all up. And, so I did that for thirteen years. For thirteen years I tried my possible best to be Nailah. There were no room for mistakes. I had to live with the fear. At a point, I became one with the fear so it wouldn't eat me whole.

All for what? For it to come crashing down because of one slip off? And because of one man?

My legs shook as I step foot in my matrimonial home that was more of a lavish cage to me. My thoughts were all over the place, and my head was spinning at a rate faster than one would think. Somehow, I managed to reach my hand out and rid my feet of the heels I had on shakily.

Throwing them off somewhere far from my reach, I dropped the bag along the way and reached out to unbutton the first few buttons of the high neck dress I had on—suddenly feeling suffocated by the clothing item.

I couldn't spot any soul in sight, or so I hoped. Because just as I was starting to dwell on that thought, I faintly heard the sound of footsteps approaching me and then a figure came to sight.

"Mrs. Nailah..." Came the voice belonging to one of the numerous housemaids. "...are you okay, ma'am?" She inquired politely. But, at the moment I wanted nothing from her or anyone...even her politeness felt like a mock.

Insistently waving my hands in motions that made little sense, I tried to swallow thickly and get a hold of myself. "Just go..." I hoped that will be enough to get her out of my sight.

I should've known otherwise.

She took another step closer to me, and through my slightly blurry eyes, I saw her reach her hands out before it came in contact with my hands—stopping me from falling face flat on the floor. I hadn't even realized I was swaying. I meant it when I said my head was a mess.

"Are you sure, ma'am? Perhaps, I should call Mr. Imran--"

"No!" I hadn't realized when I rose my voice, desperate to stop her attempt of calling anyone. "Don't call anyone..." My voice came out low, and throaty. Bile was threatening to rise, but I fought hard against it.

"Ma'am you don't look too well. It would be better if I call him--"

"I SAID NO!" Using the last bits of strength in me, I snatched my hand out of her grip and stood on my feet. Doing so was hard since it feels like the world is spinning, but I somehow managed to do it. Blinking to clear my blurry gaze, I fixed my steel gaze on her. "Get the hell out of my house right now. All of you, GET THE HELL OUT!"