Another Task.

Zey

Later that night, I lay on the couch. I’d spent three hours in the kitchen before the two witches finally accepted the toast and spaghetti I placed before them.

 Adrian sat on the bed with his laptop, his face blank.

I wouldn’t have stayed in this room with him. But what choice did I have?

He made it this way.

He wanted me here. Wanted me to feel him close. Wanted me to remember that I belonged to him, that there was no escape from this life.

I shut my eyes tightly.

I missed my family. Mama, Grandma, Uncle, Callie. My heart ached for them.

I wanted to know how they were doing. But I couldn’t ask. Couldn’t reach out. This was the price I had to pay. To protect them, I had to lose them.

Six months without their voices. Six months of darkness.

I turned to my side.

Adrian hadn’t eaten anything since we got back.

Shouldn’t that please me?

Shouldn’t I be glad?

Then why did I feel a strange heaviness in my chest?

Why did I even care?

He’d taken everything from me.

I hated it here — this couch, this room, this life. I could barely sleep while he lay in comfort.

“Can you stop tossing around, Zey?” his voice sliced through the silence.

“Can you stop tossing around, Zey?” I mimicked in my head.

“You better stop that before the floor becomes more familiar than that couch,” he hissed.

I swallowed and stayed still.

“I’m hungry. Get up. Go get me something to eat.”

The words hit me just as I was drifting off. I forced my eyes open, dragged myself up, and walked to the kitchen.

I dished the food and returned with it.

He looked from the plate to me.

“Take a spoonful.”

He always did this. To prove I wasn’t trying to poison him.

I took two spoonfuls and swallowed. “I… I didn’t poison it.”

“Wouldn’t you?” His eyes narrowed, 

“Aren’t you just like your father?”

I froze.

The spoon trembled in my hand. The air thickened, pressing against my chest.

“What are you trying to say?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t look at me. His gaze remained fixed on his laptop, his expression unreadable. Distant. Detached.

I took a shaky step forward. “What are you trying to say? I want to know—”

“Know what?” His voice cracked like a whip. 

I swallowed hard, retreating under the weight of his glare.

“You know the consequences of questioning me, don’t you?” he said coldly. “Or do I need to remind you?”

“I know,” I whispered, my lips trembling. I bit down on them and quietly placed the plate of food on the desk behind me.

But his words wouldn’t stop echoing in my head.

Aren’t you just like your father?

What did he mean by that? What had my father done?

I backed away, slowly retreating to the couch. My legs barely carried me, my thoughts loud, wild, spinning out of control.

Was this the reason? Was this why Adrian treated me like trash? 

I slowly made my way back to the couch. 

What did he do?  

What did my father do?

I sank into the cushions, curling into myself. The tears I’d been holding back slipped free, trailing down my cheeks.

He was my safe place, my hero. My father had always been the gentlest soul. The most selfless man I’d ever known. He was the reason I knew what love looked like—what kindness sounded like.

I couldn’t believe he’d done anything wrong.

He couldn’t have.

But Adrian’s words… they clawed at my mind, planting seeds of doubt I didn’t want to water.

I’d grown up worshipping my father. His death shattered me in ways I never fully recovered from. And now, someone was trying to stain his memory—to take even that from me.

No.

I wiped the tears angrily.

My father didn’t do anything wrong.

He couldn’t have.

And whatever Adrian thought he knew… I had to find out the truth. Because I wouldn’t let him destroy my father’s name.  

Not without answers.  

Not without a fight.

The truth was, I had let Adrian do whatever he wanted to me. I’d endured the pain, the humiliation, the cruel silence. But one thing I would never allow—was for him to look down on the man who raised me. The man who shaped every good part of me. My father.

I closed my eyes, holding on to the thought like armor—drifted into sleep.

***

By morning, the warmth of sleep was long gone.

Adrian was already up, fully dressed, standing like a shadow at the edge of the room.

"Now," he said coldly, "let’s go over your task for today… and the consequences for your actions."

His eyes burned, sharp and unforgiving.

While other wives were waking up to breakfast in bed, handwritten notes, poems, flowers, or the soft whisper of love…

I woke up to threats.

To punishment.

To a list of chores disguised as torment.

This was my reality. A far cry from the life I once dreamed of.