Bound by lies, Trapped by Desire - Chapter 106: Chapter 106

Elena’s POV:
“So you don’t plan on taking any compensation from him for it?” Mom asked, her voice laced with a mixture of concern and disbelief as she looked at me across the table.
I frowned.
“Of course not,” I replied, my tone firm, brooking no argument. The thought of asking Nikolai for money for this child felt inherently wrong. “He didn’t choose to have it. I did. This is my decision, and I’m keeping it.” The conviction in my voice surprised even myself.
She shook her head slowly, a weary sigh escaping her lips as she rubbed her temples, her gaze fixed on the worn tablecloth.
“No, Elena. I can’t let you do that.” Her voice, though softer now, held a resolute quality that sent a shiver of unease down my spine. “What you’re doing is highly irresponsible, darling. Utterly and completely irresponsible.”
“You’re going to live alone in a separate city, trying to juggle a demanding internship while pregnant. Your next steps aren’t even remotely decided. Who’s to say if you’ll get a job so soon after delivery, especially with a newborn, and what if there are complications with the pregnancy or the birth? Either you tell Nikolai about this…or I won’t allow you to go to Maxcester.” She finished speaking, her eyes locked on mine, and with every word, my heart seemed to plummet further, a lead weight sinking in my chest.
What was she even saying?
“Mom…you—you can’t do that,” I said slowly, each word feeling foreign and clumsy on my tongue. Unsure how to even begin to process what she was suggesting, the unfamiliar territory of her laying down such a stark ultimatum.
This hadn’t ever happened before. Mom was always supportive, always guiding, but never dictating my choices with such force. Even when she strongly advised against something, it was always phrased as a suggestion, a gentle nudge. Most of the time, I agreed with her wisdom, but this?
“I am your mother, Elena. I love you, and I only want what’s best for you, darling,” she said, her voice softening slightly, a hint of pleading entering her tone. I looked at her, dumbfounded, the familiar contours of her face suddenly seeming distant, unfamiliar. Was this really happening?
My stomach was churning, the half-digested soup feeling like a leaden mass. Anxiety pulsed in my veins, a frantic, erratic rhythm. I took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising panic, but it did nothing to soothe the frantic fluttering in my chest. I kept inhaling, willing the tightness to ease, but the air felt thin, insufficient.
My vision swam slightly, the edges of the room blurring. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles turning white.
A sharp pain constricted my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I felt tiny pinpricks behind my eyes, and I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my blurring vision. I watched as Mom’s face fell, her expression shifting from concern to alarm as she pushed back her chair and stood up abruptly. “Elena,” she said, her voice laced with worry, reaching out a hand towards me.
I shook my head, pushing her hand back gently with a weak gesture. “Mom…you can’t do that,” I repeated, the words barely a whisper, my voice thick with unshed tears. At this point, I couldn’t clearly see her expression. The room seemed to tilt, the familiar space suddenly feeling hostile.
I heard her take a sharp inhale, a sound that conveyed her own distress, and I repeated, my voice cracking, “Don’t tell Niko—” She cut me off this time, her voice trembling slightly.
“Alright. Alright, I won’t tell Nikolai,” she relented, her voice cracking with a raw emotion that mirrored my own. “Just calm down, Elena. Please.” I felt a wave of guilt wash over me.
I didn’t know what I was doing, pushing her like this. I felt terrible for causing her such distress. She was only looking out for me, her protective instincts kicking in. But she didn’t understand the situation the way I did.
She thought our marriage was real, built on love and commitment.
I knew it wasn’t. It was a contract, a transaction born out of desperation and necessity. Nothing more.
I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand, the tears leaving a damp trail on my skin. The emotional exhaustion was overwhelming, leaving me feeling raw and vulnerable.
I picked up the half-eaten bowl of soup. “I’m full,” I mumbled, my appetite completely gone. “Just leave the dishes once you’re done. I’ll wash them when I come downstairs later.” My voice was soft, barely audible. I couldn’t bear to sit there any longer.
Without waiting for a response, I pushed back my chair and left the room, my legs feeling heavy and unsteady as I made my way upstairs.
A week passed in a blur after that, the days drifting by in a hazy, sluggish rhythm. I remained mostly in my room, the space now feeling like a cage. The initial surge of energy after receiving the internship offer had completely dissipated, replaced by a bone-deep weariness.
I spent most of the days just catching up on the sleep I hadn’t been able to get before, the exhaustion of the past weeks finally catching up to me.
But now, I sat propped up against the pillows on my bed, my laptop resting precariously on my lap.
“Damn it. This laptop is absolutely useless,” I murmured under my breath, frustration bubbling up as I clicked the ‘up’ arrow key repeatedly, only for it to remain stubbornly stuck. The plastic felt brittle beneath my fingertip.
Well, I had been using it for over six years now.
With a sigh, I ended up pulling the damn broken key out completely, fiddling with the tiny plastic mechanism until I managed to fix the issue before carefully inserting it back into place. A soft click confirmed it was working, and I blew out a breath of relief, staring at the email displayed on the screen.
‘Please confirm your acceptance of this offer by replying to this email by Wednesday, June 4, 2025. Upon your confirmation, we will send you further information regarding onboarding and necessary paperwork.’
A quick glance at the calendar on my phone screen confirmed it was already June 1st. I had a mere three more days to reply.
Mom had been distant these past few days. Well, distant would be an understatement. She was clearly upset. Even more upset than I was, I suspected. Except for Sunday, when she’d stayed in her room all day, she’d spent every day from morning until evening outside for her job. She always came home having already eaten dinner, a deliberate choice, I knew, to avoid prolonged interactions with me.
She’d offer a brief, strained “goodnight” before retreating to her room, and I’d quietly store the leftover food in the refrigerator for the next day.
I wanted to console her, to bridge the gap that had formed between us. I wanted to tell her I’d do whatever she told me to, that her peace of mind was more important than any internship.
But I knew, deep down, that this time was different. This time, I couldn’t bring myself to choose either of her conditions. I couldn’t tell Nikolai, not yet, not with so much uncertainty surrounding everything. And I couldn’t, wouldn’t, let this incredible opportunity slip through my fingers. The internship felt like a lifeline, a chance at a future I desperately needed to secure.
So why was I stalling, letting the precious days tick by? What did I need to finally push me to take that chance, to click that ‘reply’ button and commit to a path that felt both exhilarating and terrifying?
I looked down at my phone. Mielle’s message notification had popped up again, a small red bubble with the number ‘3’ beside it. I swallowed, a pang of guilt twisting in my stomach. I hadn’t read her previous two messages, my mind consumed by my own turmoil.
‘Hi,’ the first message read.
‘How are you?’ followed. That one was fifteen minutes ago.
The latest one read, ‘Sorry to disturb, I know you’re probably busy….I was just wondering. Have you been to Maxcester City before?’
I jolted upright in bed.
I hadn’t mentioned to Mielle that my internship was in Maxcester. How on earth did she find out? No, wait, don’t jump to conclusions, my rational side cautioned. This could be a complete coincidence.
‘No…why do you ask?’ I replied on text, my fingers flying across the screen, a knot of unease tightening in my stomach.
She typed for a moment, the three little dots on the screen appearing and disappearing, then her reply came: ‘Nothing. Never mind then. Thank you for your time.’
I frowned, my eyes narrowed at the cryptic message.
What was up with that sudden, strange question followed by an equally abrupt dismissal? Why would she randomly ask me if I’d been to Maxcester City for no apparent reason? It felt…odd.
Then, just as I was trying to piece together Mielle’s peculiar message, there was the distinct sound of a doorbell ringing from downstairs.
I frowned, a wave of confusion washing over me.
Mom shouldn’t be home this early, should she? Her shift at the diner usually kept her out until late evening.
A quick glance at the digital clock on my bedside table confirmed it was only five in the afternoon. There should be half an hour more until she arrives.
I got up slowly, a sense of unease settling over me, and made my way towards the door. My steps slowed as I reached the landing, a prickle of something akin to fear raising the hairs on the back of my neck. Who would even come calling at this hour? It wasn't like we had many visitors. No one, really.
My mind flashed with uncertain thoughts, unwelcome images of Priya and the chilling news reports about the murders. I swallowed hard, trying to dispel the rising anxiety.
The bell rang again, the sound sharper this time, jolting me.
Damn it.