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Whispers In The Air

Penulis: Mayemura Special
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-09-05 00:01:40

Isla

I watched silently as morning light spilled weakly through the thin curtains, painting streaks across Sophie’s sleeping face. For a moment, everything felt still, peaceful. I brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and listened to her even breathing. That little girl was my anchor. No matter how much chaos the world hurled at me, one look at her and I knew why I had to keep fighting. But peace rarely lasted in my world.

By the time I dropped Sophie at daycare and arrived at the boutique, I could feel the shift in the air. It was subtle at first, coworkers whispering behind the display shelves, smiles that did not quite reach their eyes, a pause in conversation when I walked into the stockroom. I forced myself to ignore it. People had whispered about me before. After the divorce, after the court, after every battle I had fought to keep Sophie, I had grown a thick skin. Or at least I liked to think so.

Still, by midday, it was impossible to
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  • Unworthy No More    The Blakes Take Note

    Author's POV Nathaniel Blake’s phone buzzed with the kind of news that made his blood boil, a mixture of disbelief and irritation curling through him. He glanced at Viola, his girlfriend whose belly almost ready to pop, and at his mother, Mrs. Blake, who was perched on the arm of the sofa like a hawk ready to strike.“Someone told me she was downtown,” the messenger said, barely suppressing a grin. “Isla…with that man. The one from last time, the CEO.” Nathaniel’s jaw clenched. “Langston?” “No,” the messenger said quickly, sensing the storm brewing. “No names. But he’s the same one. The woman…she was talking to him. Downtown, outside the boutique area.”Mrs. Blake’s eyes narrowed, sharper than the knives in the kitchen. “I knew it. That girl will never leave well enough alone. It’s only a matter of time before she thinks she can reclaim everything she lost.” Viola, rubbing her protruding belly absentmindedly, added, “And with him? You know what

  • Unworthy No More    Holding My Ground

    IslaStepping outside the bank, I felt as if the air was unusually thinner than it should have, as though Mrs. Blake had stolen all the oxygen with her sneer. My hands still trembled as I walked down the street, folder pressed against my chest. “Don’t think for a second we won’t revisit custody.”Her words clung to me like smoke. For a moment, panic threatened to claw its way through my ribs. I pictured Sophie’s small hand in mine, her yellow ribbons bouncing as she skipped, and my chest seized. No.I forced myself to stop on the corner, close my eyes, and breathe. One slow inhale. One firm exhale. Mrs. Blake had been terrorizing me for years, but this time, I wasn’t the same woman who had once cowered in her house, too afraid to raise her voice. I was different now.That evening, Sophie climbed into my lap as soon as we got home. “You look tired, Mommy.” I smoothed her curls, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I just had a long day, s

  • Unworthy No More    Tentative Steps

    Isla The first paycheck came folded in an envelope that felt heavier than gold. My hands shook when I tore it open at my desk. I knew exactly how much it would be, down to the last cent, I had calculated it a dozen times. But seeing the numbers printed there, in black and white, stirred something deeper in me. Pride.For the first time since Sophie was born, I was earning money with my own two hands. Not from Nathaniel. Not from Alexander’s mysterious generosity that rainy night. Not from court-mandated settlements. This was me.I closed the envelope and pressed it against my chest for a second, letting myself breathe it in. Then I slipped it into my bag. I did not want anyone in the office to notice the tears in my eyes.At lunch, I walked across the street to the little grocery store and bought Sophie her favorite apple juice, a bag of strawberries, and on impulse, a pair of yellow hair ribbons from the rack near the counter. I c

  • Unworthy No More    The Watchful Guardian

    Alexander From the privacy of my car, I watched her leave the Horizon Outreach building. Her pace was brisk, her tote bag pulled high on her shoulder, and though her frame looked small against the stream of pedestrians, she carried herself differently now. Straighter. Lighter.Four months ago, she had been a ghost of herself, drenched, trembling, holding a child and two suitcases on a rainy night. Now, Isla Hart had the faint glow of a woman reclaiming her rhythm. And it made me smile in a way few things could. “Keep a little distance,” I murmured to my driver. “Yes, sir.”She did not notice the black sedan shadowing her down the street. She never did. That was one thing I had learned quickly, Isla was too busy surviving to notice when someone was protecting her from a distance.When she reached Sophie’s daycare, her shoulders softened. She bent down as the little girl came barreling into her arms, and the smile that spread across

  • Unworthy No More    A New Rhythm

    IslaThe office at Horizon Outreach had a pleasant scent and was cleaner, a sharp contrast to the perfume-laden boutique. The first morning, I walked in with my tote bag slung over my shoulder, nerves buzzing like an electrical current under my skin. Sophie’s daycare drop-off had been blessedly smooth, no tears, just a brave kiss on the cheek and a “Good luck, Mommy!”I held onto those words like armor. “Welcome aboard, Isla.” Mark Bennett met me at the door with his usual easy smile. “Let me introduce you around.”The introductions came in a blur, faces, names, and quick handshakes. I repeated them silently like multiplication tables, afraid I would forget. But people here seemed… different. Friendly, not nosy. Supportive, not sharp-tongued. No sidelong glances, no veiled whispers about my past. Just nods and small smiles.Mark led me to a desk by the window. “This will be yours. It’s not glamorous, but the view’s decent.” He was n

  • Unworthy No More    A Step Forward

    IslaThe rumors grew legs. By the middle of the week, I could not walk into the boutique without feeling the prickling weight of stares. I would d catch my coworkers whispering in hushed tones near the register or see customers glance at me sideways as if I carried a secret they were desperate to uncover. No one said Alexander’s name outright, of course they did not. He was untouchable, a man people did not dare drag through the mud. Instead, the poison was aimed squarely at me, painted in vague, slippery words, “inappropriate company,” “a man’s mistress,” “a questionable lifestyle.”I wanted to scream that I was not any of those things. That I was just a mother trying to raise her daughter and keep her head above water. But shouting the truth into a crowd that had already chosen its story rarely changed anything. So, I kept my chin up, my voice steady, and poured myself into my work. But inside, every whisper cut deeper than I wanted to admit.

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