Beau Monde ✅

Chapter 22

Nailah Zayed.

Maroudi, Nigeria.

The sound of a smack landing right across my face filled the living room—the action causing my face to jerk to the side. My eyes instantly welled up with tears, which I tried to blink away but failed as another landed on my other cheek.

"You floozy!" My mother-in-law yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at me. "How dare you tarnish our family name like this? Huh?" Her skin was mottled, and eyes were wide—showing the whites.

There are quite a few times I'd seen her this upset. And although she'd always been one with a terrible temper, and though we've never gotten along—it had never gotten physical. Until now.

Being the face of countless tabloid and the topic of mockery was more than enough for me to handle. But, the last thing I expected amidst this whole issue was to meet my mother-in-law in my living room, waiting for me.

And behold, the first thing I got from her was a slap. A stinging one for that matter.

Folding my lips in, I blinked repeatedly to clear my eyes off the tears. I didn't even want to shed any, but the anger I'm feeling was too much and she wasn't making things any easier for me. I'm not sure how much more I can handle.

So, before things could escalate even more, I'd like to believe we can all agree I've been subjected to enough pain for one day.

My lips parted as I blew in a small breath, before running my tongue across my chapped lips. The metallic taste of blood accompanied the action—a compliment of the pain inflicted on me by my dearest mother in law.

I lifted my gaze to look at her, my eyes staring her down considering she's shorter than I am. "If you're done, you can leave now." It baffled me how calm my voice sounded when I'm everything else internally.

Her eyes dilated slightly, lips curling upwards in disbelief. "What did you just say to me?" I guess she was hoping I'd take the slaps like a good daughter-in-law.

I did. But, since when have I been a good person? Much less, a good daughter-in-law?

I may be scared of her husband, but not her. Besides, it's not like her son and I have a normal marriage that will require me being respectful to her for my own sake. I don't need anything from this woman. On the contrary, she would've believe the amount of hatred I harbor towards her.

"Let me rephrase my sentence." I took a step closer to her; my eyes never leaving hers and expression yawing stoic. "Leave my house right this instant." My voice dropped, though the threat rang loud.

It was taking everything in me to not throw in an insult—choosing to remind myself that she is older than me. However, I can never, not once, remember a time where she earned my respect. It has always been one snicker and taunt after the other; constant criticism that never seems to end.

She made it her life mission to make mine hell.

And she has succeeded.

"This is my son's house." She gritted out, trying to take her stand. "You cannot send me out!"

Is this woman serious? I couldn't help but chuckle. Trust me, I tried to keep it in but it somehow turned into a full blown laughter. She could only stare at me as if I had grown ten heads, and I can't blame her.

I would've given me the same look too if I was in her shoes. Maybe I did lose a few screws?

A normal person wouldn't go the the lengths I'm going.

Clasping my hands together as the laughter died, I stare at her with the widest grins out there. "I can send your son out of 'his house' if I want to. What makes you think I can't do that to you, huh?"