Old wounds

POV: Zina

The knock at the door wasn't surprising; I'd been expecting a delivery. Asher's new schoolbooks had been delayed for days, and I had spent the morning waiting to sign for them. But when I opened the door, my stomach clenched.

Standing there, dressed as though she'd stepped out of a fashion magazine, was Trina.

And she hasn't changed a bit.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Her sharp cheekbones and meticulously styled hair glistened in the sunlight. Her lips were painted a bright red, her eyes hidden behind oversized sunglasses that she slowly removed, revealing a piercing stare.

"Zina." Her voice was sugary but laced with badly hidden spite.

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the woman who thought stealing my husband was a promotion. I see you have removed the devil's thorns on your head."

Her painted lips twitched into a tight smile. "I see you haven't changed."

"Neither have you bitch," I shot back. "What do you want from me?"

"I thought we could talk for a while. Like old times," she said while brushing past me and stepping inside clearly uninvited.

 The faint scent of her overbearing expensive perfume wafted into the room as she moved.

I rolled my eyes and shut the door with a little more force than necessary. 

I just hope I didn't crack my door.

"Sure. Let's talk about how you destroyed my marriage. Or maybe about how that didn't work out so well for you either." I snarky said.

Her eyes flared, but she quickly composed herself, smoothing down the hem of her designer blouse. "I'm not here to argue, Zina. I came to clear the air and talk about Xaden. You've dragged this out long enough."

I laughed—a loud, full laugh that echoed off the walls. "Dragged this out? Are you fucking listening to yourself right now? This you barging into my home to lecture me on what I'm dragging out?"

"Yes," she snapped, stepping closer. "You're using Asher to punish him Xaden, Zina. It's obvious. You've always been vindictive."

My eyebrow arched. "Vindictive?" I repeated, letting the word roll off my tongue like venom. "That's rich coming from you. Let me guess, this sudden concern for Xaden has nothing to do with the fact that you couldn't give him what I did. What's the matter, Trina? Can't handle being the woman he cheated with and still couldn't build a family with?"

Her face turned red, the smugness crumbling as her composure slipped. "Don't go there, Zina."

"Oh, I'll go there," I said, stepping forward until we were nearly toe-to-toe. "You thought taking my husband would make you superior. You flaunted it, rubbed it in my face. But guess what? You were just a temporary distraction, and now you're irrelevant."

Trina's eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she quickly blinked them away. Her voice shook slightly as she replied, "You think you're so high and mighty, don't you? As if Asher is some trophy. You're using him to keep Xaden tied to you, to keep playing this victim role."

I snorted, folding my arms across my chest. "Tied to me? Sweetheart, I don't need Xaden for anything. He's the one who keeps crawling back, trying to fix what you helped him break."

She jabbed a manicured finger at me, her voice rising. "You're bitter. That's all this is. And one day, Asher will grow up and see what kind of person you really are."

"Bitter?" I asked, feigning offense. "Oh, honey, I'm not bitter. I'm thriving. You? You're just desperate, trying to make yourself feel relevant in a life you don't belong in."

Her lips quivered, but she stood her ground. "You're stuck in the past, Zina. Clinging to anger and playing the martyr. Everyone can see it. You should try moving on."

I laughed again, slower this time, shaking my head. "You want to talk about moving on? Look at yourself. Xaden didn't want you then, and he doesn't want you now. You're the one stuck, Trina. Stuck in this delusion that you matter."

Her face twisted, and for a moment, I thought she might slap me. Instead, she straightened her spine, her voice dropping to a cold, calculated tone. "Xaden told me everything. He said you're trying to make him feel guilty, using Asher as leverage to get back at him."

"Of course he did," I scoffed. "Classic Xaden—always the victim in his own mess. Tell me, Trina, when he whispers those sweet little lies in your ear, does he remind you how he cheated on me with you? Or how he begged to come back when it all went south?"

She flinched but quickly recovered, her expression hardening. "You're pathetic, Zina. Clinging to your son as if he's your last shred of dignity. I almost feel sorry for you."

I took a step closer, lowering my voice. "And I feel sorry for you. Sorry that you wasted years chasing a man who doesn't love you, who used you and then discarded you like trash. Sorry that you'll never know what it's like to have a real family, to hold your child in your arms and see a part of yourself looking back at you."

Her eyes widened, her bravado crumbling. "You—"

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" I asked, tilting my head. "Face it, Trina. You'll never have what I have. And that's not bitterness talking—that's reality. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than entertain your sad little pity party."

She opened her mouth to retort, but no words came out. Instead, she spun on her heel, her expensive heels clicking against the floor as she stormed out. The door slammed behind her, and for a moment, the silence was deafening.

I exhaled slowly, a small smile tugging at my lips as I walked to the kitchen. People like Trina always thought they could win, but all they ever did was lose.