Loved Not

Dilemma - 5

Dilemma - 5

“Scarlet, do I have to remind you of your duty? I have places to be.” Aunt Magda’s sharp tone cut through the quiet as she pushed open the bedroom door, her expression cold with disdain.

Scarlet scrambled out of bed, her feet barely touching the floor as she hurried after her aunt’s retreating figure. Without hesitation, she gathered the cleaning supplies, deciding to start with Aunt Magda’s bedroom, just in case she needed to leave the house. Her aunt had a habit of locking up before going out.

Scarlet dusted the surfaces, carefully placing things where they belonged.

Her hands paused over a framed picture. It showed her mother and Aunt Magda, both much younger, with her aunt smiling in a way she had never seen before.

Her hair was dyed a light auburn with gold streaks, and she looked so beautiful with her lips curved up. She could see the striking resemblance between the siblings in the photo. However, it was now a stark contrast to what she often saw of her Aunt who had a permanent frown over her face, which her occasional bursts of laughter couldn’t take away the frown lines. Her hazel eyes no longer held the shine they had in the photo —they were unmarried then, with the carefree ease of youth.

Scarlet exhaled quietly, her fingers lingering on the frame for a moment longer before she set it back among the other items, refocusing on the task at hand.

Being unappreciated for her efforts did not hold a candle to her Aunt scolding her regarding placement. Her aunt would tear through the room, searching for already organized belongings, scattering carefully arranged items in frustration. And when the mess appeared, Scarlet would be blamed. It was always her fault for disorganizing the very order her Aunt tried to maintain.

She had therefore learned not to rearrange things anymore, only to keep them in a neater version of their original placement. She then resumed sweeping the floor.

Scarlet was scrubbing the bathroom floors when her phone beeped. She chose to ignore it until she was done. Then came another beep.

“What’s that noise?” her aunt asked, raising her voice from where she was lounged comfortably in her freshly made bed.

She had moved to her bedroom once she noticed it had been cleaned.

“Turn that thing off. I don’t want to hear that sound,” she said, resuming reading her book.

“Sorry about that,” Scarlet mumbled, pulling out her phone to activate the silent feature. She saw it was a notification from Z.kil, then slipped the phone back into her dress pocket and resumed scrubbing.

Her routine had shifted subtly. She spent more time at the shop now, unlike before. On days without a shift, she usually stayed home, knowing she would be asked to mop floors or prepare meals for her aunt—whenever she felt tired or generous.

Scarlet handled the simpler meals, like red sauce macaroni, and served the occasional visitors her aunt entertained. Aunt Magda, however, usually cooked her own meals.

With Scarlet’s schedule becoming unpredictable due to her evening shifts, Aunt Magda decided it was best to inform her in advance if she was expecting guests.

Which left Scarlet to figure out her work schedule on her own—even if it meant double shifts. Aunt Magda had no concern for that, as Scarlet’s last evening shift had already proved how flexible it could be.

Finished with cleaning, Scarlet moved to her aunt’s wicker laundry basket to sort through her dirty laundry.

She ensured the water was warm before adding soap, then gradually separated the clothes from the bedsheets.

As she worked, she remembered her phone was in her pocket and reached for it, only to realize it wasn’t there. A flicker of worry crossed her face. It must have fallen, but where? It was on silent, offering no sound to help her locate it.

She lifted the sheets, only for her phone to tumble out from beneath them.

Instinct kicked in; she reached out, trying to catch it mid-air before it landed in the water. But her damp, soapy hands betrayed her. A light spray of water had already made the phone slippery, and it slipped from her grasp.

Thud.

Not into the water thankfully—but straight onto the hard granite floor.

Scarlet hesitated, staring at her fallen phone as an unease settled over her. She turned the phone over. A cracked screen stared back at her.

A lump formed in her throat, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. It wasn’t even her birthday yet, and her present was already ruined. Swallowing the urge to cry, she carefully set the phone aside—placing it far away from herself, as if distance could lessen the sting of disappointment.

She turned back to the laundry. The sun was still out, and she needed to be done before it lowered.

……….

As she stepped onto the familiar path leading to the shop, Scarlet felt the tension in her shoulders ease—just a little. The evening air carried a faint coolness, offering a contrast to the suffocating weight of the house. She inhaled deeply, trying to shake off the lingering unease that had settled in her chest.

The cracked phone screen still haunted her thoughts. A quiet part of her wanted to grieve the small, yet significant loss—but she refused to dwell. She had learned long ago that disappointment was inevitable, and lingering on it only made things worse. Aunt Magda wouldn’t care. She’d probably make a passing comment, something dismissive, before moving on.

Scarlet clenched her fingers, then loosened them. The house was beginning to feel less and less like home—more like a place where she merely existed, followed orders, avoided conflict. That was why she walked faster, arriving early, choosing the shop over the four walls of a house where she was only noticed when needed.

Maybe today would be different. Maybe the feeling of displacement would fade, even if only for a few hours.

As she neared the shop, she exhaled and reached into her bag, fingers brushing against smooth fabric. Then, she remembered—the phone.

Her stomach dipped slightly as she stared at her screen.

She had messages.

The corner of her lips twitched, the smallest shift in expression, as she saw the name Z.kil. He hadn’t messaged her the previous day, and her mind had woven several ideas about his identity that she couldn’t help her interest.

She clicked to open it.

Z.kil: “Hey”

Z.kil: “What are you up to?”

How should I respond she thought to herself. Torn between not wanting to come off bleak and trying to disguise her interest.

Scarlet: “Not much, catching up with friends”

There, that should do

This tempted Prince Akil to skim through her 14 following.

She noticed he hadn’t responded, so she inputed

“How about you?”

Z.kil: “Just concluded a meeting”

Z.kil: “I expected you would have messaged, telling me how much you missed me”

Scarlet blinked at the screen.

Scarlet: “How’s that possible?”

Z.kil: Was it just you? I believe we bonded over the last conversation

Scarlet stared at her phone with incredulity, wondering when that happened. They had bonded over what exactly? she thought

Z.kil dialed her.

Scarlet watched it ring then began typing..

Z.kil: Why aren’t you answering?

Scarlet: I have to know you more

She had concluded within her, to take him as a mysterious friend that possibly did not exist.

Z.kil: Isn’t that the point of the call?

His face became a hard mask, muscle twitching, she was starting to tick him off with her silly games.

Scarlet noticed the change, his tone had changed from playful teasing to something less forgiving

Prince Akil placed his phone in his pocket with deliberate force. He wasn’t going to deal with this? How could she act in such manner? The lady was beyond daring.

He had indulged her hesitation, played along -but this? This was nothing short of provoking.

He heard the soft chime of another notification, believing she had realized herself and written an apology, he unlocked his phone.

Instead—

Scarlet: You haven’t uploaded any photo of yourself. I don’t know how you look

His frustration deepened

Was this whole thing about a photo? he thought to himself.

Could it be that she was moved by looks? What was he thinking? All women were moved by looks and money. That explained why she had been hostile from the onset, why had he thought her to be different. Women were the same.

Z.kil: You could have mentioned that from the onset and saved us the time.

His fingers skimmed through his gallery for jaw-dropping photos.

Scarlet was surprised that he had no restraints to her request for his photo. She had assumed he didn’t have any uploaded, due to shyness or an obvious disability, leaving him to prefer anonymity.

Prince Akil clicks to send his selected photos, at the same time, f*******: — the social network experiences a global outage, an unannounced software update freezing incoming messages.

His message is undelivered and he wonders what her deal is this time.

Scarlet waited, expecting the message to arrive. Her screen remained blank.

Z.kil narrowed his eyes, irritation turning into disbelief.

“Urgh! this woman! I can’t deal with this. I won’t deal with this” he spoke aloud to himself.

*A distant voice interrupted.*

“Sir, is the proposal not to your liking?” his assistant voice echoed through the zoom call.

He titled his head, momentarily confused, staring at the iPad device like some foreign object.

What proposal?

Hadn’t they ended this conversation already?

“Not now Fahad”