CRACKS IN THE MIRROR
806 Words
The next morning, Ayana stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, wrapped in Ethan’s oversized hoodie. Nairobi's skyline was slowly waking, but her thoughts were still trapped in the night before in that message.
"You don’t know who you married. Be careful, Ayana."
The words refused to fade.
Behind her, Ethan stirred from the couch, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He hadn't gone to the bedroom not after the message. Not after seeing the fear in her face.
“Did you sleep at all?” he asked, his voice raspy.
She shook her head slightly. “Did you?”
He stood and walked to her side. “Not really. I kept thinking about the message. And who might’ve sent it.”
She turned to face him. “Whoever it was… they know. And they want to scare me.”
Ethan placed his hands on her shoulders. “Let them try. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Ayana wanted to believe that to let his arms be her shield but she also knew something had shifted.
There were things Ethan wasn’t telling her. She could feel it.
“I want answers, Ethan,” she said, voice steady. “I want to know who’s watching us. Why someone would say I don’t know who I married.”
He paused. “There’s a lot about my life that I’ve buried. Mistakes. Enemies. People who don’t want to see me happy.”
“Then unbury them,” she said sharply. “Because if I’m going to keep pretending to be your wife or whatever this is becoming I need to know what I’ve signed up for.”
Ethan exhaled. “There’s someone… from my past. Before the accident. Before you. I thought I cut ties, but maybe I didn’t clean up as well as I thought.”
Ayana’s brows furrowed. “A woman?”
He nodded slowly. “Her name was Leila. We dated before Claudia. It ended badly… very badly. She was obsessed. Controlling. Even after we broke up, she kept showing up manipulating things behind the scenes.”
“And you think it could be her?” Ayana asked.
“I don’t know. But if it is… she’s dangerous.”
Ayana swallowed hard. “Then we need to be careful. We need to find out who’s behind this.”
Ethan gave a slight nod. “I’ll call someone. I have a private investigator. He’s discreet.”
Before Ayana could respond, her phone vibrated again. Her stomach dropped.
Unknown Number:
"Ask your husband what happened the night of the accident."
Her fingers trembled as she handed the phone to Ethan.
His eyes scanned the message and for a split second, something flickered in his expression. Not fear. Not surprise. Guilt.
“What happened that night?” she asked quietly.
He looked away.
“Ethan.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I told you I lost control of the car. That was true… but it wasn’t the full story.”
Ayana’s heart thudded. “Tell me the rest.”
“I wasn’t alone,” he said finally. “Claudia was in the car. We were arguing. She’d found out about my plans to end things, to call off the arranged marriage for good.”
Ayana’s breath caught.
“She grabbed the wheel,” Ethan continued. “We were speeding. I tried to regain control… and we crashed.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“Because her father the same man who arranged our marriage covered it up. He made it look like I was driving recklessly, alone. He told Claudia to stay quiet, to protect the family name.”
“And you agreed to go along with it?” Ayana asked, hurt flashing in her eyes.
“I didn’t have a choice. They threatened to bury me. The company. My future.”
Ayana stepped back. “So you let the world blame you while she walked free?”
“I thought I could fix everything by staying quiet. Until I met you.”
Ayana’s mind spun. Everything she thought she knew was cracking open like glass under pressure.
“Who else knows this?” she asked.
“Just you. And maybe… whoever is sending those messages.”
Ayana hugged her arms around herself. “You should’ve told me from the start.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“Then protect me now,” she said. “By being honest. Always.”
He stepped closer, gently cupping her face. “I will. No more secrets. I promise.”
But as they held each other in the quiet, Ayana couldn’t shake the feeling that more truths still lay buried waiting to surface.
And somewhere in the city, someone was watching, waiting, and pulling strings.
The game had only just begun.
To be continued…
- Writer
