HER COLOR

HER COLOUR

CHAPTER TWO

10:51 PM.

The sound of heels echoed through the enormous Smith family mansion.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Each step was perfectly calculated, confident, and unhurried.

Baren Smith descended the grand staircase as though the entire house belonged to her.

Well…

It did.

At least, that was how she saw it.

She looked breathtaking in a fitted red party gown that fell elegantly around her figure. Her hair was perfectly styled, her makeup flawless, and a small designer purse hung from her arm.

She stopped halfway down the stairs and checked herself in the huge mirror beside the staircase.

She smiled.

“Perfect.”

“Baren!”

The voice came from the sitting room.

Baren's smile disappeared for a second.

Her mother.

Mrs. Vedica Smith.

Baren continued downstairs.

Mrs. Vedica was sitting on one of the expensive sofas, her eyes immediately moving over her daughter's dress.

Then she looked at the clock.

Her eyebrows pulled together.

“Baren, where are you going at this time of night?”

Baren sighed.

“Mom…”

“It is almost eleven.”

“I know.”

“And you're dressed like you're going somewhere.”

“I am going somewhere.”

Mrs. Vedica stared at her.

“Where?”

Baren walked toward the center of the sitting room and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“To a party.”

“A party?”

“Yes.”

“At this hour?”

Baren rolled her eyes.

“Mom, it's my friend's party. Everyone is already there.”

Mrs. Vedica stood.

“But it's late.”

“I'm not a child.”

“I know you're not a child, but—”

“Then why are you questioning me like one?”

Mrs. Vedica's expression softened.

“I am questioning you because I'm your mother.”

Before Baren could respond, a deeper voice came from the other side of the room.

“Enough.”

Both women turned.

Mr. Smith sat comfortably in his chair, watching them.

He had been silent the entire time.

Mrs. Vedica looked at him.

“I'm only worried about her.”

Mr. Smith looked toward Baren.

His expression immediately changed.

A proud smile appeared on his face.

“Let the princess go.”

Baren smiled.

“Thank you, Dad.”

Mrs. Vedica shook her head.

“You always encourage her.”

Mr. Smith chuckled.

“She deserves to enjoy herself.”

“She comes home late almost every weekend.”

“And she always comes home.”

“That isn't the point.”

Mr. Smith leaned back.

“Vedica, let her go.”

Mrs. Vedica opened her mouth to argue again.

Mr. Smith raised a hand.

“If she's the head of this house now, perhaps we should start asking her permission before she leaves.”

Baren laughed.

“Dad!”

Mr. Smith laughed with her.

“Look at you. Beautiful as always.”

Baren smiled proudly.

“Thank you.”

“You look exactly like your mother when she was younger.”

Mrs. Vedica smiled faintly.

“Don't spoil her.”

“I am not spoiling her. I'm appreciating beauty when I see it.”

Baren turned toward the door.

“I won't stay long.”

Mrs. Vedica sighed.

“Please be careful.”

Baren looked back.

“I will.”

Then she walked away.

Her heels echoed against the marble floor.

Click.

Click.

Click.

The large front door opened.

And moments later, she disappeared into the night.

Mrs. Vedica watched through the window until Baren's car disappeared beyond the gates.

She sighed.

“You shouldn't encourage her so much.”

Mr. Smith smiled.

“She is young.”

“She is becoming too proud.”

“She is my daughter.”

“And that's exactly why you don't see it.”

Mr. Smith laughed.

Before he could answer, footsteps sounded from the hallway.

Calvin Smith walked into the sitting room.

He had just returned from work.

His sleeves were rolled slightly, and his expression looked tired.

Mr. Smith looked at him.

“There he is.”

Calvin stopped.

“Good evening.”

“How was the shoot?”

Calvin dropped himself onto the sofa.

“Long.”

“Successful?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Mr. Smith nodded proudly.

“You're doing well.”

Calvin gave a small smile.

“Thanks.”

Mrs. Vedica watched her son.

“Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

“I'll have something prepared.”

“You don't have to.”

“I want to.”

She walked toward the kitchen.

Then she stopped.

Her eyes fell on someone entering from the opposite corridor.

Ameena.

She was carrying a large tray filled with bowls of soup.

Two older female workers followed behind her.

Ameena kept her head lowered.

She was dressed simply in a modest gown that stopped below her knees.

Her pink flip-flops made almost no sound against the polished floor.

They were the same pair her mother had bought for her before she left Nigeria.

Ameena had treasured them.

They were ordinary.

Nothing expensive.

Nothing fashionable.

But they reminded her of home.

She carefully carried the tray.

She didn't want to spill anything.

She didn't want to make a mistake.

She had learned quickly that mistakes were expensive in the Smith mansion.

Very expensive.

She walked toward the dining area.

Then—

“YOU!”

Ameena froze.

Mr. Smith's voice cut through the room.

She slowly turned.

“Yes, sir?”

He stared at her with visible irritation.

“What are you doing standing there?”

Ameena swallowed.

“I was taking the soup—”

“Get lost from here, monkey.”

Silence.

The two older workers immediately lowered their heads.

Ameena's fingers tightened around the tray.

Her heart sank.

She didn't answer.

She simply turned around and walked away as quickly as she could without dropping the food.

Her eyes burned.

She refused to cry.

Not here.

Not in front of them.

Not again.

Calvin watched her leave.

His expression was unreadable.

He didn't say anything.

He simply followed her with his eyes until she disappeared down the hallway.

Mrs. Vedica noticed.

But she said nothing.

For now.

---

LATER THAT NIGHT

The Smith mansion was finally quiet.

The lights in the main hallway had been dimmed.

The enormous house that had been filled with voices earlier now seemed almost empty.

Far away from the luxurious bedrooms and spacious family suites was a small room.

Ameena's room.

Her quarters.

She closed the door gently behind herself.

For the first time that night, she allowed herself to breathe.

She walked toward the tiny bed.

Her shoulders were heavy.

Her body was tired.

But her mind refused to rest.

She sat down.

Then she looked around the room.

It wasn't much.

A small bed.

A little table.

A chair.

A wardrobe.

One window.

That was all.

But it was hers.

Ameena slowly reached underneath the bed.

She pulled out an old notebook.

Her face changed.

For the first time that night, she smiled.

The notebook was worn out.

Some of the pages were folded.

Some had ink stains.

But to Ameena, it was precious.

She sat comfortably on the bed and opened it.

She had been working on the story before leaving Nigeria.

Her fingers ran over the pages.

She loved writing.

Writing was the one place where nobody could insult her.

Nobody could tell her she wasn't good enough.

Nobody could tell her where she belonged.

Inside her stories, she could become anyone.

A queen.

A villain.

A hero.

A poor girl.

A rich girl.

A broken girl.

A girl who survived.

She had written several stories over the years.

Hijabian Sisters.

Survival of the Fitness.

Return of a Baddie.

And many others.

None of them had been published.

Not even one.

But she never stopped writing.

Because she believed that someday…

Someone would read her words.

Someone would understand her characters.

Someone would understand her.

She picked up her pen.

Then she opened a fresh page.

At the top, she had written:

HER COLOUR

She stared at the title.

Her lips curved into a faint smile.

This story was different.

It was closer to her heart.

She wanted to write about a girl who didn't fit into the world around her.

A girl who was constantly told that she wasn't enough.

A girl who had been made to believe that her background determined her worth.

A girl who entered a world where everyone seemed to have more than her.

More money.

More power.

More confidence.

More opportunities.

And yet…

She still had something they didn't.

Her own colour.

Her own story.

Her own voice.

Ameena began writing.

She didn't change to fit in.

She paused.

Then continued.

She was born to stand out.

A small smile appeared on her face.

“That sounds good,” she whispered.

She continued writing.

The words flowed easily.

For a few minutes, she forgot where she was.

She forgot the mansion.

She forgot Mr. Smith.

She forgot the cruel words.

She forgot everything.

Until—

Knock.

Ameena froze.

Her pen stopped.

Her eyes widened.

Another knock came.

Knock. Knock.

Ameena slowly closed the notebook.

Her heart began beating faster.

Who would come to her room this late?

She stood.

Her legs felt weak.

She took a few careful steps toward the door.

Another knock.

“Ameena?”

She recognized the voice.

Mrs. Vedica.

Ameena immediately opened the door.

Mrs. Vedica stood outside.

She was wearing a simple night robe.

Unlike everyone else in the family, she didn't look intimidating.

Her expression was gentle.

Ameena stepped aside.

“Ma'am.”

Mrs. Vedica smiled.

“Can I come in?”

Ameena nodded quickly.

“Yes, ma'am.”

Mrs. Vedica entered.

Her eyes immediately traveled around the small room.

She looked at the bed.

The little table.

The old wardrobe.

Then her eyes landed on the notebook.

Ameena noticed.

She quickly picked it up.

Mrs. Vedica smiled.

“Were you writing?”

Ameena froze.

She didn't know what to say.

“No…”

Mrs. Vedica raised an eyebrow.

Ameena lowered her head.

“Yes.”

“You write?”

Ameena nodded awkwardly.

“A little.”

Mrs. Vedica smiled.

“What do you write?”

Ameena looked at her.

“Novels.”

There was a short silence.

Mrs. Vedica seemed genuinely surprised.

“Novels?”

Ameena nodded.

“Yes.”

“How long have you been writing?”

“Since I was younger.”

Mrs. Vedica sat on the edge of the bed.

“Come sit.”

Ameena hesitated before sitting at a safe distance.

Mrs. Vedica looked at the notebook again.

“What is this one about?”

Ameena's fingers tightened around the notebook.

“It's called Her Colour.”

“Her Colour?”

“Yes.”

“What does it mean?”

Ameena looked down.

“I don't know yet.”

Mrs. Vedica smiled.

“You don't know?”

Ameena shook her head.

“I'm still writing it.”

Mrs. Vedica laughed softly.

“That's the beauty of writing.”

Ameena looked up.

Mrs. Vedica's expression had changed.

There was something warm in her eyes.

“You look different when you talk about writing.”

Ameena blinked.

“Different?”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Vedica smiled.

“You were frightened when I came in.”

Ameena quickly shook her head.

“No, ma'am.”

“You were.”

Ameena said nothing.

Mrs. Vedica sighed.

“You don't have to be afraid of me.”

Ameena nodded.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Call me Vedica.”

Ameena's eyes widened.

“I can't.”

“Why?”

“You are my madam.”

Mrs. Vedica chuckled.

“And you're Ameena.”

Ameena smiled nervously.

“Yes.”

They sat quietly for a moment.

Then Mrs. Vedica asked,

“What about your school?”

The smile disappeared from Ameena's face.

“School?”

“Yes.”

“Are you done with school?”

Ameena looked away.

Mrs. Vedica immediately noticed.

“You're not.”

It wasn't a question.

Ameena slowly shook her head.

“No.”

“Why?”

Ameena remained silent.

Mrs. Vedica waited.

Eventually, Ameena spoke.

“I dropped out.”

Mrs. Vedica's eyes softened.

“When?”

“SS2.”

“SS2?”

Ameena nodded.

“I couldn't continue.”

“Why?”

Ameena looked down at her hands.

“There wasn't enough money.”

Mrs. Vedica's heart tightened.

Ameena continued quietly.

“I wanted to finish.”

“I know.”

“I really wanted to.”

“I believe you.”

“But…”

Her voice became smaller.

“Things happened.”

Mrs. Vedica waited.

Ameena took a breath.

“Someone offered to sponsor my trip here.”

Mrs. Vedica frowned.

“To work?”

Ameena nodded.

“Yes.”

“So you came to Australia to work as a maid?”

“Yes.”

“Who arranged it?”

Ameena hesitated.

“Someone who knew my family.”

Mrs. Vedica studied her face.

“And your family agreed?”

“They thought it would help.”

“Do they know how you're being treated here?”

Ameena quickly shook her head.

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don't want them to worry.”

Mrs. Vedica sighed.

“Ameena…”

Ameena looked up.

“You're still very young.”

Ameena said nothing.

“You should be in school.”

Ameena's eyes became glassy.

“I know.”

“You should be thinking about your future.”

“I know.”

“You should be writing your novels…”

Ameena smiled faintly.

“And studying.”

The smile faded.

“I can't.”

Mrs. Vedica looked at her carefully.

“Why not?”

“Because I'm here to work.”

Silence.

Mrs. Vedica leaned back.

She seemed lost in thought.

Then she asked,

“Do you want to go back to school?”

Ameena's eyes immediately lifted.

“Yes.”

The answer came too quickly.

Mrs. Vedica smiled.

“You didn't even think about it.”

Ameena shook her head.

“I've thought about it every day.”

“What would you study?”

Ameena smiled.

“Literature.”

Mrs. Vedica laughed softly.

“Of course.”

Ameena's cheeks warmed.

“I love stories.”

“I can see that.”

Mrs. Vedica glanced at the notebook.

Then she looked back at Ameena.

“What if…”

She paused.

Ameena waited.

“What if I enrolled you in school?”

Everything stopped.

Ameena stared at her.

Her lips parted.

For a moment, she didn't understand what she had heard.

“What?”

Mrs. Vedica repeated gently.

“What if I enrolled you in school?”

Ameena didn't move.

She didn't blink.

She didn't breathe properly.

It felt as if the entire room had suddenly frozen.

School.

The word echoed inside her mind.

School.

Again.

A chance to finish.

A chance to become something other than a maid.

A chance to hold a pen for something more than taking orders.

A chance to sit in a classroom.

A chance to learn.

A chance to write.

A chance to dream again.

Her fingers slowly loosened around the notebook.

“Are you…”

Her voice broke.

Mrs. Vedica smiled.

“I'm serious.”

Ameena stared at her.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“But…”

She swallowed.

“What about my work?”

“We'll figure that out.”

Ameena couldn't speak.

Her eyes filled with tears.

But this time, they weren't tears of sadness.

They were tears she didn't know how to name.

Mrs. Vedica reached out and gently touched her shoulder.

“You deserve an education.”

Ameena's lips trembled.

“I…”

She couldn't finish.

Mrs. Vedica smiled.

“Think about it.”

Ameena nodded slowly.

“I will.”

Mrs. Vedica stood.

“Goodnight, Ameena.”

“Goodnight…”

Mrs. Vedica reached the door.

Then she stopped.

She turned back.

“And don't stop writing.”

Ameena looked at her notebook.

Then smiled.

“I won't.”

Mrs. Vedica left.

The door closed softly.

Ameena remained standing in the middle of the room.

Completely still.

She looked at the closed door.

Then at her notebook.

Then at the tiny room around her.

Her life had felt like a dead end when she walked into the Smith mansion.

But now…

For the first time…

There was a tiny opening.

A tiny possibility.

A tiny light.

She sat down on the bed.

Her hands trembled as she opened her notebook.

She stared at the words she had written earlier.

HER COLOUR.

She picked up her pen.

Then she added another sentence.

Sometimes, the person who saves you is the one you never expected.

Ameena smiled.

But she didn't know something.

She didn't know that Mrs. Vedica had barely made it halfway down the hallway when she stopped.

She had heard footsteps.

Heavy footsteps.

Someone was standing near the corner.

Mrs. Vedica turned.

But nobody was there.

Her eyes narrowed.

She looked toward Ameena's door.

Then toward the dark hallway.

Something felt wrong.

Meanwhile, inside the room, Ameena continued writing.

Completely unaware.

She didn't know that enrolling in school would change everything.

She didn't know that the moment she stepped into that school, she would enter a world where money determined popularity…

Where beauty determined status…

Where her background would become a weapon against her…

And where certain people would make it their mission to remind her that she didn't belong.

She didn't know that her simple life was about to become anything but simple.

And most importantly…

She didn't know that one person in that family would eventually look at her very differently.

Someone who had barely noticed her tonight.

Someone whose unreadable eyes had followed her as she walked away.

Someone who hadn't said a single word.

Yet.

Ameena closed her notebook.

She smiled through her tears.

“Maybe…”

She whispered to herself.

“Maybe my story is finally changing.”

She switched off the light.

The room went dark.

But outside her door…

A shadow stopped.

Someone stood there silently.

Listening.

Then a voice whispered into the darkness—

“School?”

A pause.

A cold laugh followed.

“So she thinks she's going to school now?”

The footsteps slowly disappeared down the hallway.

Ameena heard nothing.

She slept peacefully.

Unaware that by morning…

her biggest battle would begin.

TO BE CONTINUED…