Chapter 6: No Turning Back
1044 Words
Bianca’s POV
The week ended with my body aching, my mind cluttered, and my heart confused.
Being secretary wasn’t as simple as just writing notes. It was schedules, paperwork, handling requests from different orgs, and being the one everyone went to when they couldn’t reach the president.
Which meant… being tethered to her almost all the time.
Yhannie.
Everywhere I turned, there she was—guiding me, correcting me, watching me. Always watching.
At first, I thought it was just her way of making sure I learned fast. But slowly, I realized something. She wasn’t just monitoring my work. She was monitoring me.
The way I sat, the way I spoke, the people I talked to.
And though part of me bristled at it… another part felt a strange sense of comfort.
Like I didn’t have to think. Like she’d think for me.
And that was the scariest part of all.
---
Monday morning
I was organizing files in the SC office when two students entered, petition in hand.
“Uh, secretary,” one of them said, giving me a polite smile. “Can you endorse this to Pres?”
I took the paper, nodding. “Sure, I’ll—”
Before I could finish, Yhannie’s voice came from behind. “I’ll handle that.”
She walked over, her hand brushing mine as she took the petition. Her gaze flicked to the two students. “You can go.”
They exchanged a quick glance before leaving.
I frowned. “I could’ve done it.”
“I know,” she said simply, scanning the petition.
“Then why—”
“Because I’d rather they talk to me directly. Less chance of confusion.”
Her tone was calm, but something in her eyes told me there was more.
Less chance of confusion… or less chance of anyone else talking to me?
I didn’t ask. I didn’t dare.
---
Yhannie’s POV
She still didn’t understand.
This position wasn’t about paperwork or meetings. It was about proximity. About making sure she was always where I could see her.
Others would try to approach her. I couldn’t allow that. Not when she was still so easily swayed, so unsure of herself.
No—Bianca needed guidance. My guidance.
And if I had to control who reached her, then so be it.
---
Bianca’s POV
By lunchtime, I was restless. So I excused myself, saying I needed air.
Outside, the campus buzzed with chatter. I spotted my old classmate Mia waving from a bench.
“Bianca!” she called. “Sit with us!”
For the first time all day, I felt a little lighter. I walked over, sitting beside her.
“Wow, you’re busy now, huh?” Mia teased. “Madam Secretary. So official!”
I laughed nervously. “Don’t remind me.”
We talked for a few minutes—normal, easy conversation that made me forget the weight on my shoulders. Until I felt it.
That presence.
I turned.
Yhannie was standing a few steps away, expression unreadable.
“Pres!” Mia greeted cheerfully. “Want to join us?”
Her gaze never left me. “Bianca, we need you in the office.”
My stomach dropped. “O-oh. Okay.”
I stood quickly, mumbling a goodbye to Mia before following her back.
When we reached the office, I finally spoke. “What did you need me for?”
She closed the door behind us, the click echoing too loudly.
“Nothing urgent,” she said.
I blinked. “Then why—”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You don’t belong sitting around with people who don’t understand what we’re building here.”
I froze. “Mia’s just a friend—”
“She’s a distraction.”
Her tone was calm, but final. Like there was no room for argument.
I bit my lip, lowering my gaze. “I just… wanted a break.”
Her voice softened, but her words struck deeper. “Your place is here, Bianca. Beside me.”
Something in my chest twisted. A mix of fear, guilt, and something dangerously close to longing.
I nodded weakly. “Alright.”
---
Yhannie’s POV
Good. She was learning.
It wasn’t about the petition, or her friend, or the paperwork. It was about reminding her where she belonged.
With me. Always with me.
And every time she obeyed, every time she lowered her gaze, the strings tightened just a little more.
---
Bianca’s POV
That night, I dreamed of chains.
Not heavy, cold chains—but silken ones. Warm, almost comforting. Wrapping around my wrists, binding me gently but firmly.
And when I woke, heart racing, I couldn’t shake the thought.
They weren’t forcing me.
I was letting them.
---
The next day
“Secretary Cruz,” a classmate teased as I entered the room. “How’s life under the President?”
The others laughed.
I forced a smile. “Busy.”
“Busy, huh?” one whispered to another. “More like… special treatment.”
My ears burned.
After class, I lingered by the window, staring out, hoping no one would approach. But of course, someone did.
Not a classmate.
Her.
“You don’t have to listen to them,” Yhannie said quietly, appearing beside me.
I turned. “You heard that?”
“I hear everything.”
Her gaze pinned me in place. “Let them talk. They’re jealous. What matters is that you’re here. With me.”
The words should have comforted me. Instead, they made my chest tighten again.
Because the more she said it, the more it sounded less like reassurance… and more like a command.
---
Yhannie’s POV
She was starting to resist, I could see it in the flicker of her eyes. But resistance didn’t scare me.
Resistance meant she was aware of the pull.
And awareness was the first step to surrender.
---
Bianca’s POV
By Friday, exhaustion wasn’t just physical. It was emotional.
I caught myself watching her more often—not out of fear, but out of something else. Curiosity. Fascination.
And when she smiled at me across the meeting table, calm and sure, I felt it.
The silken chains again.
Tightening. Pulling.
And I didn’t know if I wanted to break free… or give in completely.
- Writer
