Life
1668 Words
⸻
The Hidden Life of Bianca
The lights in the apartment were soft, golden, and perfect.
They fell on polished marble floors, on glass tables, on expensive art that didn’t mean anything but still looked beautiful.
Bianca stood in the middle of it all, one hand resting gently on her baby bump.
The apartment was quiet.
Too quiet.
It was the kind of silence that made her feel powerful. The kind that made her feel untouchable.
Once upon a time, she had nothing. Not a single thing to her name.
Now she had everything.
And that was the irony of her life…because the woman who was supposed to have everything, Vivian, had nothing left.
It still made Bianca smile sometimes when she thought about it.
Vivian…the perfect wife, the ideal woman, the one the world thought was blessed…was now the one crumbling in silence.
“Miss Dary …Miss Dary” she said with laughter.
Meanwhile, Bianca, who had come from nothing, who had clawed her way up from the dirt, was now living like royalty.
Her world was bright. Vivian’s was falling apart.
Sometimes, Bianca wondered if God was watching..and if He was, whose side He was really on.
She moved across the apartment, her silk gown whispering against the floor.
The nursery door was slightly open, and she pushed it wider, letting her eyes sweep across the room she had spent months perfecting.
It was breathtaking.
A delicate mix of white and gold, soft fabrics, and expensive furniture. A faint baby scent already filled the air from the bottles of lotion and powder stacked neatly on the dresser.
The crib gleamed under the light.
The drawers were full of tiny clothes…some pink, some blue…because Bianca hadn’t cared to wait to find out the baby’s gender.
She had bought everything. Every possible thing.
Toys, blankets, rattles, shoes.
Even matching sets of storybooks.
It didn’t matter if she wasted money. She wanted the child to have everything before it even came into the world.
It made her feel secure.
It made her feel like she had control.
She didn’t want her child to ever feel the lack she once knew.
Bianca placed a hand on the crib, her fingers tracing the soft edges.
Her lips curled into a smile.
She looked like happiness itself, but her happiness had sharp edges.
Because behind her calm face was a secret.
A secret that would destroy Vivian’s world if she ever found out.
Bianca walked to the living room and sat down on the couch.
Victor was lying beside her, his head resting on her lap, one hand lazily rubbing her baby bump.
He looked peaceful.
Too peaceful for a man who was juggling lies, two marriages, and an empire built on deceit.
Bianca studied his face.
He looked younger when he slept. Softer. But she couldn’t forget the things he had done…or the things they had done together.
Victor hadn’t been home much lately. He was always “busy.”
Bianca knew exactly what that meant.
He was spending time with Vivian again, pretending to be the loving, devoted husband.
It was part of their plan.
He needed Vivian to believe he still loved her, to trust him completely, so that she would transfer her inheritance to him without hesitation.
Once that happened, everything would belong to him.
And then…to them.
Bianca smiled faintly, her hand brushing his hair.
Her husband. Her real husband.
Because that was the truth.
Victor had married Bianca first.
Quietly. Secretly.
Long before Vivian ever walked down the aisle.
Vivian’s marriage wasn’t even real…it was a façade, a ceremony built on deception.
Bianca was the legal wife. The real Mrs. Fren.
Sometimes she searched Vivian’s name on the internet just to laugh.
She’d scroll through pictures of the woman looking fragile, hollow-eyed, still clinging to the illusion of a happy marriage.
And Bianca would laugh.
A soft, wicked laugh that came from somewhere deep in her chest.
“Oh, poor girl,” she’d whisper. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
Her hand moved across Victor’s face now, tracing his jawline.
He hadn’t noticed how much his world had already changed.
Bianca knew things he didn’t.
She knew that his accounts were empty. His businesses were failing. His name was losing its shine.
He didn’t even realize that most of his money was still with her…tucked away safely, hidden where he couldn’t reach it.
She’d been saving it for him. For them.
But she didn’t plan to tell him yet.
Because she didn’t trust him.
If she did, he’d waste it on gambling or some foolish investment.
So she stayed silent.
Let him think they were broke.
Let him fight for Vivian’s inheritance.
When the money finally came through, when the papers were signed, Bianca would reveal everything.
Then they would rebuild.
Together.
She looked down at Victor again.
He stirred in his sleep, murmuring something she couldn’t quite make out.
Her chest tightened.
Was that Vivian’s name?
She blinked slowly, her smile fading for a moment.
Then she pushed the thought away.
It didn’t matter.
Vivian might still have his attention for now, but she…Bianca…had his future.
And that was what mattered.
She leaned back, stroking her baby bump softly, her mind filling with pictures of the life she wanted.
A big house. A happy child. A life without fear.
A world where Vivian didn’t exist.
She closed her eyes and whispered, “Everything will be ours soon.”
⸻
The Other Side of the World
Far away from the golden lights and glass towers, evening fell over a quiet village.
The sky was bruised with purple and gray.
Crickets sang in the grass.
Inside a small wooden house, Erica stood in front of a mirror, wiping her wet hands on a cloth.
Her hair was damp from her evening bath, and her face looked tired, older than her years.
She sighed.
The walls of the house creaked softly.
The faint smell of smoke from the cooking fire still lingered.
Everything here was small and quiet…so different from the life people in the city lived.
But lately, peace had become impossible for Erica.
And the reason had a name.
Pascaline.
That woman.
Her husband had insisted they let Pascaline stay for a while, “just until she finds her feet.”
Erica hadn’t liked the idea, but she couldn’t argue.
In their village, when a man spoke, his wife obeyed.
That was how things worked.
So she agreed.
But every passing day, her patience was wearing thin.
Pascaline was always around…always smiling, always polite, always too kind.
She helped with chores. She fetched water. She read bedtime stories to Erica’s son.
And that was what Erica hated most.
Her son.
Pascaline had become too close to him.
The boy adored her, followed her everywhere, laughed too much when she was around.
Erica tried to warn her.
More than once, she’d told Pascaline to keep her distance, but the woman never seemed to understand.
She was always there.
Always trying.
Always smiling that soft, innocent smile that made Erica’s blood boil.
That evening, Erica left the bathroom with a bucket of water in her hand.
The wooden floor was cold under her feet as she stepped into the hallway.
Then she froze.
Pascaline was coming out of her son’s room.
Their eyes met.
The bucket slipped from Erica’s hands and hit the floor, water splashing everywhere.
“Pascaline!” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet house. “What the hell are you doing in my son’s room?”
Pascaline’s face went pale. “I…I’m sorry, Erica. He asked me to read him a story. He couldn’t sleep….”
“Shut up!” Erica snapped.
Her voice was trembling…not from fear, but anger.
“This is what you want, isn’t it? You want my son to get attached to you. You want to make yourself part of this family.”
Pascal shook her head quickly. “No, that’s not true. I was only…”
At this point … Erica didn’t even care if Pascaline was way older than her.
“Enough!” Erica’s voice echoed down the hallway.
Her heart was pounding. Her hands were shaking.
“I told you to stay away from him!” she shouted. “But you won’t listen. You just won’t!”
Pascaline lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean any harm.”
Erica glared at her. “You’ll leave this house. Sooner or later, you’ll leave. Do you understand me?”
Pascaline didn’t answer. She turned quietly and walked away, her steps soft, her body trembling.
When she disappeared into her room, the silence in the hallway grew heavy.
Erica stood there for a long time, breathing hard.
She turned her head and looked into her son’s room.
The door was slightly open.
Her little boy was sleeping peacefully, his face calm, his small hand clutching the edge of his blanket.
Her anger faded for a moment, replaced by fear.
She didn’t know why she felt it, but something inside her warned that Pascal’s presence was dangerous.
Maybe it wasn’t just jealousy. Maybe it was instinct.
She closed the door gently and stood in the dark hallway, her fists tightening.
She had made up her mind.
She would protect her family…even if it meant going against her husband’s wishes.
Pascal would not take her son’s heart.
Not while she was alive.
Outside, the wind picked up, brushing through the trees and the fields.
The lantern flickered.
Erica walked back to her room, her thoughts heavy, her heart colder than before.
⸻
Somewhere far away, Bianca turned in her silk sheets, dreaming of power, love, and victory.
And somewhere in that small, creaking house, Erica lay awake, staring at the ceiling, promising herself that she would make Pascainel leave.
Two women.
Two worlds.
One built on lies.
The other, on fear.
And both, unknowingly, about to collide.
- Writer
