Written in Chance

~ 11

Chapter 11 |

Kyela's Pov

Shortly after Michael walked out of the door, he came back in, or so I thought. I had to stop the mover from talking to me to see what was going on.

"Kyela! Kyela, come here. I need to talk to you," Simone yelled. Wow, she sounded mad almost.

I walked into the foyer and found her almost smoking with anger. She had her arms over her chest, and she was wearing a T-shirt and jeans.

"What's up? Why didn't you tell me you were coming over?" I asked.

She scoffed, "That should be the least of your concerns. What the hell are you doing right now? I mean, really. You think moving in with this man is a good idea?"

I looked around the room because this was coming out of nowhere. "We already talked about this. Did you forget or something?" I said.

She huffed and pulled me by my hand into the kitchen. In a hushed tone, she basically yelled at me, "I saw the news, Kyela. I know what he did to you, and I can't believe you're still with him after all this time. How could marry the man who kidnapped you?"

I shook my head. "Simone, that was none of your business," I told her.

She cut her eyes at me. "I'm your best friend, or at least supposed to be-"

"What the hell does that mean? I don't have to tell you unnecessary details about my life before I met you," I snapped.

She chuckled sarcastically and shook her head.

"You're too far gone, Kyela. You need to leave this man or something. As if trying to kill you wasn't enough for you to see who he really is," she commented.

"You have some nerve coming into my damn house and telling me what I need to do in my marriage," I said.

"Your marriage is built on top of lies and dysfunction and fallacious love. How could you say you actually love this guy? Kyela, you have Stockholm Syndrome, open your eyes," she said to me.

My teeth chattered, and I clenched my fists in an attempt to block out the pain in my chest and back. This was the same reason that Marlon and I stopped talking so long ago, and I wouldn't hesitate to brush Simone away too. You can't attack my relationship that I worked so hard to keep.

"Either you take that back, or you leave my house," I stated.

She raised an eyebrow at me, and I sighed.

"Did I stutter?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Just like that? You're going to choose him over someone that never tried to hurt you?"

"You're obviously trying to hurt me right now. If you were really my friend, you'd know it's not that simple, and you'd support whatever decision I make," I said.

She ran her hands over her perfectly smooth face, and I rolled my eyes.

"How can I support something that's ruining your life, Kye? Even before we left New York you haven't been acting the same at all, and I can't sit around and watch you destroy yourself," she said.

I yelled, "You don't have to, Simone! You can leave and never come back if that's what you want to do because I don't care anymore. This is my life, and I make the decisions!"

She stared at me, baffled at the way I spoke to her, but I couldn't take it back. I couldn't say sorry. She just backed away from me slowly and shook her head.

"He fucking brainwashed you, and you can't see it. I hope you have a wonderful life," she spat.

• • •

From my place in the bathroom, I could hear Michael's voice through the baby monitor as he tried to calm Kees down and change his diaper. I had my head rested on my knees and tears pouring down my face from a mix of pain, sadness, and guilt. I had taken refuge on the floor near the toilet because of this overwhelming nausea that wouldn't go away for anything in the world.

Footsteps entered the bathroom after a few minutes of silent. Michael kneeled down next to me and touched the back of my head gently.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He asked.

I lifted my head, and his eyes widened a bit before he covered his mouth with his hand. He sat down next to me, and my chest heaved up and down as I cried some more.

"What happened? Where did Simone go?" He asked.

I shook my head. "Fuck her," I said through breaths.

He gave me a look of extreme confusion, but he shook it away pretty quickly. "Well, why are you crying on the floor?" He asked.

I sniffled, "I'm sick."

He sighed, "You need to get in the bed then." He tried to pull me up by my arm, but I pulled away from him.

"I can't move, Michael," I groaned.

He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. "You can't move?" He asked. He bent down and picked me up in his arms, and I groaned. My back was killing me, and it felt like my organs were disconnecting from my body or something. My head was pounding, and I realized from being so close to Michael's body that I was sweating heavily. I wrapped my hands around his neck to keep myself up as he carried me into our bedroom and laid me in the bed. I turned over and brought my knees to my chest. The light in the room went off, and a chill ran up my spine.

Next thing I knew, I was waking up with a burning pain in my stomach, and I jumped up and hobbled off into the bathroom. A wave of emotions hit me all at once when I saw a drop of blood splash the tile of the bathroom floor. My hands shook, and I plopped onto the toilet. I looked up to the door and saw Michael standing there with a blank expression on his face.

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What's happening to the baby?!