ALLURING : Between Two Realms

Chapter 11 - Accusation

Morning sunlight peeked through the open window, spreading its warm glow across my face.

I opened my eyes.

For a split second, everything felt blank. Then I remembered last night. I must have cried myself to sleep.

I did not remember falling asleep.

And I was still on the floor. Exactly where I had broken down the night before.

My body felt sore. So did my eyes. I could feel the swelling beneath them.

A soft sigh escaped my lips.

Slowly, I pushed myself up and sat on the floor for a moment.

The house was still quiet.

My kids had not woken up yet.

They must have worn themselves out too.

I was glad it was Saturday.

My eyes shifted toward my phone, lying in the middle of the bed.I did not remember putting it there. The screen lit up when I tapped it.

8:45 a.m.

I had promised the kids we would go to my mom's house today and spend the weekend there.

For a while, I remained seated at the edge of the bed, trying to gather myself.

Then I forced myself to stand and went for a shower.

The warm water helped loosen the soreness in my muscles. Once I dried myself, I applied warm massage oil over my body, letting the heat sink into my skin.

Still in my bathrobe, I peeked into their shared bedroom. All three of them were still sleeping soundly.

So I decided to prepare a simple breakfast.

Toast.

Scrambled eggs.

A snack box for the trip.

And, of course, my coffee.

My phone lit up the second I finished my last bite.

I placed the fork down and stared at the screen.

For a moment, my fingers hovered above it.

Then I opened the chat inbox.

It was from an unknown number.

Stop messing with my husband. I've known you had an affair with him for so long!

I blinked.

Husband?

Whose husband had I been messing with?

My brows drew together as I tapped on the profile picture.

Damn it.

It was his wife.

Gosh.

Receiving this kind of message early in the morning triggered something in me immediately.

Not sadness.

Anger.

My hand shook with rage as I tried to reply.

Typing.

Deleting.

Typing again.

Deleting again.

Until finally, I found the right words.

Excuse me? Is your husband Andy?

Just to let you know, I did not have, and do not have, any affair with him.

I blocked him everywhere, but somehow he keeps bypassing those blocks.

And I don't even know how.

And don't worry. I'm not interested in someone else's husband.

Her reply came almost instantly.

He's been flirting with so many women.

He keeps exchanging women for years.

Ah.

Nice.

A bitter smirk curved on my lips.

So that was it.

She had been looking for a scapegoat.

And somehow, she thought I was the vulnerable one.

My fingers moved across the screen.

That is your problem, not mine.

Send me another message and I will lodge a police report.

I don't care whether it comes from you or your husband.

A wave of sadness crept back into my body.

Tears were already threatening to fall when I heard movement behind me.

"Morning, Mommy!"

Finally.

Those little munchkins were awake.

I smiled and looked toward them.

"Morning, kids."

Then I clapped my hands softly.

"Let's get ready."

"Are we going to Grandma's house today?" Maya asked, her eyes bright with excitement.

It had become a routine.

After my husband passed away, I would bring my kids to my mom's house every weekend, or once every two weeks, depending on my health and their school schedules.

It was a ninety-kilometer drive that usually took about an hour and a half when the traffic was smooth.

Or up to three hours when the road became impossible, especially during public holidays, school holidays, or festive seasons.

It had been months.

Being there bought me a little time to rest from the responsibilities I carried alone.

And the kids could run freely in the backyard, grounding themselves with nature and sunlight.

"Yes, Maya," I said. "Go shower. All of you. Get ready."

I ushered them toward the bathroom.

"And be quick!"

As they entered the bathroom, I quickly tidied their beds and placed their outfits neatly on each one.

Their room was the master bedroom with an adjoining bathroom.

I had given them one single bed each and let them choose their own bedding.

While my kids were showering, I went to get myself ready.

Just skinny mom jeans and a decent tee.

I tied my hair into a messy bun and grabbed my handbag.

My LV Speedy.

The one I loved most for casual outings.

Then I arranged the kids' small backpacks and slipped their water tumblers inside, each filled with cold water.

I did not forget mine either.

A tumbler filled with cold rose, hibiscus, and citrus tea.

Refreshing.

No extra clothes were needed since I had already stored some at my mom's house.

"Take a bite before we go out," I said, placing toast and scrambled eggs onto their plates.

I gave each of them a small box of cold UHT full cream milk.

They finished their breakfast without fuss, then brought their plates to the sink and took turns washing them.

I had taught them responsibility.

Wash your own dish.

Tidy your own space.

But kids being kids, sometimes it slipped.

"Everyone ready?" I asked once all of them had settled in the back seat.

Each of them had their tablets, which I allowed during weekends.

"Yes, Mommy!" they answered in unison, their voices bright with excitement.

I smiled.

"Buckle up and behave, okay?"

Surprisingly, they were quiet today.

Too quiet, almost.

They whispered to each other as we passed the distant mountains along the highway, their small voices blending with the soft hum of the car.

The drive was smooth.

So was the traffic.

Peaceful, even.

And yet, for no reason, the accusation from earlier found its way back into my thoughts.

The message.

The anger.

The humiliation.

The unfairness of being dragged into someone else's chaos.

My throat tightened.

Then the tears came.

Quietly at first.

Then in steady streams down my cheeks.

For a moment, I did not wipe them away.

I simply let them fall.

Let them flow.

Let them wash away whatever sadness my body was still trying to hold.

It was almost eleven when we arrived at my mom's house.

My hometown was located up north.

A small town still filled with greenery and fresh air.

The atmosphere here was completely different.

The air.

The light.

Even the sun seemed to shine differently.

My mom's house was quite big.

A two-story house with a classic design.

I used to stay on the second floor during my childhood, back when it was only an open space and not yet a proper bedroom.

Now, the whole area had been built up with fencing, and my mom had started practicing a small homestead lifestyle.

She kept chickens and roosters that ran freely in the backyard, giving her fresh eggs almost every day.

She planted vegetables too.

And behind the house, there was a backyard garden where my kids loved to play.

"Come on in," my mom said the second my kids climbed out of the car.

"Hi, Mom," I said, hugging her. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she answered, smiling. "Better now that I see my grandchildren."

She had always loved children.

And I was grateful for that.

"Let's go to the backyard. Grandma already prepared chocolate muffins for you kids," she said, holding Arya's hand.

I loved chilling in the backyard garden too.

Between the chickens clucking, the birds singing, and the smell of grass in the air, everything felt serene.

Grounding.

Soothing in a way I could never fully explain.

This was my root.

My sacred land.

"Where is Zach, Mom?" I asked once we gathered around the garden table.

On the table sat warm chocolate muffins on a cake stand, covered with a lid. Small water vapors clung to it, showing they had just come out fresh.

Zach was my brother.

Zachary.

The quiet one.

He lived with my mom.

In his mid-thirties, he worked at a nearby farm, and most of the time, he stayed close to my mom, helping her around the house.

I also had a younger sister, Zehra, who was already married and lived in the central region.

She usually came back to visit Mom whenever she could.

"He's at the farm," Mom said. "Your Uncle Matt needed his help repairing the fence."

I nodded.

"You go and get some rest," Mom said gently.

"Driving must have exhausted you."

Then she smiled toward the kids.

"I'll watch them. And roasted chicken is already in the oven."

I smiled back.

After days of chaos and noise...

I could finally breathe