Chapter 56 – Shackled Choices

Mannie’s POV

The morning air was still cool when I returned from dropping the kids at school. I carried a small bag of groceries in one hand and my phone in the other, already planning the meals I would cook for the week. It was one of those rare free days when I didn’t have to rush to the office, and I wanted to use every second well.

But the moment I reached my door, my steps halted.

My mother was standing there.

“Mom?” I frowned, shifting the grocery bag higher on my arm. “Why are you standing in front of my door like this?” A small chuckle escaped me. “Also… I think I saw Aunt Remi lurking outside just now. What’s going on?”

My mom didn’t laugh with me. Her brows were drawn tightly together, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her whole posture screamed impatience.

“Have you forgotten your promise?” she asked in a low, clipped voice.

I blinked. “What promise?” I asked carefully, reaching past her to open the door. I didn’t want to argue. My plan for today was simple—cook, clean, and maybe rest for once.

But my mother wasn’t ready to let me escape. She rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. “Don’t pretend, Mannie. You promised me you would go on that date today. With the man Aunt Remi introduced. So you better prepare yourself, because I’ll be the one taking you there.”

Her words made me freeze mid-step. I turned slowly to face her, my mouth parting in disbelief.

“Mom… you’re serious?” My voice carried my shock. “I thought you were joking when you said that yesterday. Or maybe you were just angry and speaking without meaning it.”

Her scoff cut through the air like a blade. “Do I look like I have time to joke about such things? No, Mannie. You gave me your word, and today you will keep it. If you think you can back out…” She narrowed her eyes. “I swear I’ll kill myself.”

I dropped the groceries on the counter with a loud thud. “Mom, you can’t be serious.” I shook my head, not taking her words at face value. I had heard dramatic things from her before, but never this far.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Her voice lowered into a dangerous register I knew too well. It was the voice she used when I was a child, right before she raised a cane to my back. Or the voice she used when she had reached the end of her patience.

The small smile I wore to soften the tension vanished instantly.

And then I saw it.

In her right hand, gleaming under the kitchen light, was a knife. And the blade was frighteningly close to her neck.

My breath caught in my throat. “Mom!” I rushed forward, my hands trembling. “You need to calm down. Please, don’t do this. You shouldn’t go this far.”

She didn’t flinch. Her grip on the knife was steady, her expression locked in a mix of anger and sorrow.

“Let’s talk about this as adults,” I begged softly, raising my hands to show I wasn’t fighting her. “We can settle this without threats.”

“You think I want this?” she spat, her eyes glistening. “If not for your situation, do you think I’d be forcing you into this? Do you think I’d want you to marry such a man? No! But look at yourself. Look at your life. And still you fight me, like I am your enemy.”

Her words stabbed deeper than any knife.

I clenched my hands into fists, my chest tight with guilt.

I didn’t think I had hurt my mother this much. I didn’t want to admit it, but she had sacrificed a lot. If not for her, maybe even this small roof over our heads would have crumbled long ago. And the kids—my loud, rowdy, mischievous kids—she bore their noise and chaos when I was gone, working late. She carried a weight I couldn’t deny.

And still… this?

I swallowed hard. “Mom,” I whispered, lowering my head. “Put down the knife. Please. I promise to go. And yes… you can come with me if that will make you feel better.”

She eyed me with suspicion, her voice harsh. “You won’t go back on your word?”

A heavy sigh slipped from my lips, my shoulders dropping. “I promise. I’ll go. I’ll get ready now.”

My mom didn’t move at first. She still held the knife close, her eyes fixed on me like I might try to run. Only when I walked slowly toward my room did she finally step aside, giving me space but never lowering her guard.

I shook my head as I passed her. My throat ached with unspoken words. What could I even say? She wouldn’t believe me unless I showed her. So I went inside and prepared.

I bathed slowly, letting the cool water wash over my tense body. Then I dressed in a simple outfit—plain but neat. Something decent, but not flashy.

When I came out and showed her, she frowned, as if she wanted to complain. But she couldn’t find real fault in it. So she stayed silent.

“Mom, since you insist on following me, maybe you should also dress up,” I said quietly.

She grumbled under her breath, words I didn’t want to dwell on. “If you hadn’t made me distrust you, would I be wasting my time following you to a date?”

I kept my mouth shut, bending to slip on my shoes.

It didn’t take her long to change. Soon she appeared in a clean gown, her hair neatly tied. Her eyes still watched me like a hawk.

“I will escort you to the venue,” she declared firmly, “and I will stay close enough to see everything.”

“Yes, ma,” I replied simply. Fighting her now would be useless.

---

We left together, with Aunt Remi tagging along like an excited shadow. Her smile was too wide, too smug. Something about it made my skin crawl.

The venue turned out to be a small coffee shop that also sold pastries. A cozy place, nothing fancy.

I didn’t care about the setting. I just wanted to get through this without losing my mind.

Inside, I scanned the room quickly. Aunt Remi had described the man—forties, wearing a blue shirt tucked into black trousers. It didn’t take long to spot him. He was the only one dressed in full corporate attire.

I took a breath, forced a small polite smile, and approached him.

“Hello,” I said, stretching out my hand. “I’m Mannie.”

He rose from his chair and shook my hand, his grip firm but cold. “Ah, so you are the one Remi told me about.”

“Yes. Nice to meet you.” I withdrew my hand and sat across from him.

“Nice to meet you too,” he replied, smiling in a way that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

A waiter appeared at our side, notepad ready.

“So,” the man said casually, waving the waiter closer. “What kind of coffee would you like?”

“Um… I’d like—”

“Just get us two instant coffees,” he interrupted smoothly, cutting me off before I could finish.

I blinked. The waiter glanced at me uncertainly. I forced a small smile and nodded, though irritation flickered inside me.

As the waiter left, the man leaned forward. “So, what do you do?” His smile widened, almost childlike. But something in his eyes told me he wasn’t as innocent as he seemed.

I folded my hands in my lap, choosing my words carefully. “I work as a junior marketer.”

“That’s good,” he said quickly, nodding. “But you’ll have to quit your job after we marry. It’s no place for a woman with children. Think of it as me doing you a favor, so you can focus on your duties at home.”

For a moment, I thought I had misheard. My eyelashes fluttered in disbelief.

He went on, as if explaining a list he had memorized.

“I also have rules. First, you must never touch my phone. My phone is private, always. But your phone? I must have access to it at any time.”

My lips parted slightly.

“Second, if I want us to have sex anywhere, you must agree. You already have so many kids, so spreading your legs shouldn’t be new to you.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks—shame and fury mixing together.

But he didn’t stop.

“Third…” He kept listing rules, each one more insulting than the last. His tone was calm, almost cheerful, like he was talking about the weather.

I sat frozen, my fingers digging into my palms. Each word chipped away at the thin wall of patience I had left.

Then came the final straw.

“Lastly,” he said with a casual shrug, “I heard you have eight kids. That won’t do. We’ll have to sell some of them, so we can afford to raise the rest.”

The world went silent.

My breath caught. My blood boiled.

And then it snapped.

“You must be mad,” I spat, my voice trembling with rage. “If not crazy! I can’t believe I wasted my time listening to you vomit this filth.” My chair screeched harshly against the floor as I shot to my feet. Heads turned, but I didn’t care.

“You think you can talk about selling my children as if they’re property?” My hands shook as I pointed at him. “You’re disgusting. You’re not looking for a wife—you’re looking for a slave. A toy. And I refuse to be either.”

The man blinked, stunned, his mouth half-open.

I hissed, the sound sharp on my tongue, and stormed out before he could answer.

---

The cool air outside slapped against my hot skin. My chest rose and fell rapidly, fury choking me.

Behind me, I heard hurried footsteps. “Mannie! Mannie, wait!” My mother’s anxious voice reached me. “What happened?”

But before I could reply, the waiter from inside rushed out. “Excuse me, ma,” she said timidly. “The man you sat with asked that you pay for your own coffee.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “How much is it?”

“Two dollars ninety-five.”

My jaw tightened. Slowly, I reached into my purse, counted the money and gave it to her.

I didn't even bother answering my mother again and just hailed a cab.

Aunt Remi, who was following behind us, also hitched a ride with us home. I couldn't be bothered to even talk to her as, if she hadn't told my mum about it, she wouldn't have used suicide to threaten me.

By the time we got home, I still haven't calmed down. I didn't even want to speak to my mother, because of she hadn't forced me to go, I wouldn't have gotten the insults I got.