Tainted Love

Ghajajs

Pascaline sat in front of the house .

The small wooden stool under her felt uneven and old, but she didn’t care. She didn’t even feel the rough texture scratching the back of her legs. Her hands rested lifelessly on her lap. Her eyes were blank… tired… hollow. She stared at the empty compound stretching before the house, but her mind was trapped somewhere far behind her.

She wasn’t really seeing anything. She was remembering.

The midday light was pale, almost muted. The wind carried the sharp smell of salt from the sea nearby. It tangled her scattered hair and blew strands across her face, but she didn’t push them away. She simply remained there… still, detached… as if her mind had slipped out of her body and wandered somewhere she could never reach.

Because nothing around her made sense anymore.

Not life.

Not fate.

Certainly not the cruelty of her own blood… her sister.

Her eyes blinked slowly.

If Mr. Dary saw me… then he saw me. I wasn’t hallucinating. He stood there. I saw his eyes widen. I saw the confusion… the shock. He recognized me.

Her heart twisted painfully.

So why hasn’t he come to my rescue? Why has he taken so long. Did the injection Emilia gave him made him forget everything ?

She still couldn’t understand.

She pulled her knees closer to her chest and hugged them lightly with her arms. The sunlight carved shadows beneath her cheekbones, and the exhaustion on her face carried years of pain.

It was unbelievable… unbearable… surreal.

Once upon a time, she had a life filled with promise. She came from a modern home… not extravagantly wealthy, but comfortable enough to dream endlessly. She had goals. She had plans. She had a future. She had a man who loved her… or at least she believed he did.

She had everything.

And then, she lost everything.

Her hands trembled slightly as she wiped tears rolling silently from the corners of her eyes.

Her throat tightened as memories hit her like waves, one after another.

She had been so sure about her future. She had completed her degree, started an internship, and had already chosen a wedding date with the one man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with. The love of her life… Maxwell Dary. Gentle, soft spoken, intelligent. He admired her passion and supported her dreams.

At least… she thought he did.

She swallowed hard, thinking of her daughter. The child she birthed. The newborn baby she never got to hold. The pain in her chest deepened, spreading like a fresh wound ripping open again.

All because of Emelia.

Her own sister.

Pascaline lowered her gaze to her palms. They were thin now, bony almost. A reminder of hunger and years of deprivation. Nothing about her reflected the woman she once was.

How could Emelia do that to me… to her own sister…?

They were just one year apart.

One year.

Pascaline always thought that meant closeness. Unity. Friendship.

They shared clothes… dreams… secrets. Pascaline protected Emelia from bullies, defended her from their strict father, and made sure she knew she was loved.

Pascaline gave Emelia everything that a big sister could possibly give. Not just material things. Love. Sacrifice. Affection. Trust.

She treated her like royalty.

She remembered the times they would whisper under their duvet, talking about the future. She remembered brushing Emelia’s hair before school… sharing makeup… sharing laughter.

But Emelia…

Emelia was full of envy.

Full of resentment.

Full of bitterness.

Pascaline remembered the exact moment she realized her sister was not who she believed she was.

It was the night Emelia deceived her.

The night her life was stolen.

The night Emelia held her captive.

For more than twenty years.

Twenty whole years.

Pascaline could feel the ache spreading slowly across her chest, squeezing her ribs. Tears slipped down her cheeks again, uninvited, unstoppable.

She looked fragile now. Thin. Hollow. Her eyes lacked life. Her skin carried scars… not from visible wounds, but from suffering. If someone who once knew her saw her now, they wouldn’t recognize her.

She was a ghost of herself.

A shell without a soul.

The wind swept across her face again, cold and salty. It made the wrapper tied around her waist flutter lightly. She inhaled the air deeply, letting it fill her lungs. Even the wind felt different. Free. Something she wasn’t used to feeling anymore.

Her mind returned again to that terrifying moment.

She remembered the syringe pointed at Maxwell’s direction when he saw her. She remembered Emelia’s voice… sharp with panic, whispering threats.

She remembered how Emelia injected Maxwell quickly… how he collapsed on the cold tiled floor of that secret place where Pascaline was held.

What was that injection?

A sedative?

Something to erase memories?

Something to wipe out her existence from his mind?

Was it something to make him not remember he saw me?

Did it make him forget…?

Pascaline shook her head slowly, confusion heavy in her eyes.

Or did he already know?

Did Maxwell know about the captivity all along? Did they plan it together?

The thought made her stomach twist painfully.

If they planned it… then why was he so shocked when he saw her?

If he didn’t plan it… then what was he doing there that day?

Nothing added up.

Nothing made sense.

Her breathing hitched.

Her voice came out broken… barely a whisper.

Why didn’t you come for me, Maxwell…?

She felt anger, sorrow, betrayal… everything mixing inside her like poison.

Pascaline closed her eyes, fighting the tears burning behind them.

She heard the sound of waves from the sea… gentle but constant. Even water knew how to move forward. Yet she felt stuck… trapped in a moment that happened years ago and still haunted her.

She wasn’t used to being free.

Freedom felt foreign.

Almost unreal.

The small wooden stool creaked beneath her weight as she adjusted slightly, hugging her body to protect herself from the cold breeze. She wished she had something warmer, but this wrapper was all she had.

Everyone else in the house was gone.

Erica…… had gone to the sea to wash clothes.

David…… had gone to the market to sell fish.

They trusted her enough to leave Daniel, their small son, under her care.

No one ever trusted her like that before.

Her sister had never given her freedom.

Never given her trust.

Never given her the chance to breathe or grow or simply live.

But here… in this small wooden house by the sea… someone trusted her.

Someone believed her.

Someone accepted her.

She blinked and looked toward the open door of the house, thinking of Daniel. The little boy she adored so much. The only light in her dark world.

He was sleeping soundly inside.

For the first time in a long time, when she thought of a child… she didn’t feel pain. She felt warmth.

She felt love.

She exhaled.

Just then, she felt something lightly touch the back of her arm. A small hand. A tiny, gentle touch.

A soft voice followed, sleepy and sweet.

“Auntie…”

Pascaline turned instantly.

There stood Daniel.

He rubbed his eyes with one tiny fist, his body still wrapped in sleep. His hair was messy and sticking up. His oversized shirt slid off one shoulder.

Her heart melted instantly.

His hand reached toward her, slightly trembling from sleepiness. She leaned down.

“What is it…?” she asked softly. “You just went to sleep, didn’t you?”

Daniel didn’t answer her question. He stepped closer and stretched out his little hand toward her, revealing something hidden in his closed palm.

“Please hide this for me…” he whispered. “Mommy wants to throw it away. I saw it in the dust collector.”

Pascaline frowned.

“What is that?” she asked gently.

Daniel opened his fingers.

There it was.

The memory card.

The very memory card he choked on yesterday.

Her breath caught.

“Daniel…” she whispered. “Isn’t this the same thing you choked on yesterday? The one that almost…” She stopped herself before finishing the sentence. “Why are you still playing with it?”

She sighed.

“We have to throw it away.”

“No…”

The little boy shook his head with immediate distress, eyes widening… ready to cry.

He hugged the memory card protectively to his chest, lips trembling.

Pascaline’s heart softened instantly. She didn’t want him to cry. She didn’t want Erica coming home to a tantrum. Not today.

“It’s okay… it’s okay…” she murmured.

She reached for the memory card slowly.

“I’ll keep it for you.”

Daniel relaxed slightly. Pascaline tied the memory card securely under the rim of her wrapper.

“See…? Safe.”

He nodded, appeased.

“What again?” she asked when she noticed him lingering.

Daniel blinked slowly, yawning.

“I’m hungry… Auntie.”

Her expression softened.

“Okay. I’m coming. Go inside. I’ll join you soon.”

He rubbed his eyes again, turned around, and walked back into the house lazily… his steps sleepy and sluggish.

Pascaline watched him go.

She smiled faintly.

Not because everything was fine.

But because something inside her… something tiny, fragile, and hopeful… stirred for the first time in years.

She was proud.

She was grateful.

This family accepted her.

They saved her.

She could breathe here.

The sunlight shifted… softening as clouds drifted slowly above. The breeze continued brushing against her skin as she looked toward the house again.

For the first time in two decades, she wasn’t in chains.

She wasn’t locked behind cold steel.

She wasn’t crying for help where no one could hear.

She was here… on a wooden stool… watching a little boy walk into a house where she was welcome.

Pascaline inhaled deeply and let the air fill her lungs.

Maybe life wasn’t done with her yet.

Maybe she still had a chapter left to write.

Maybe… just maybe… her story wasn’t over.