Entering the dining hall, Patricia was met with silence. Everyone ate quietly, minding their own business as they usually did whenever she wasn’t around to be their target. At the head of the table sat the old woman, chewing her food with that familiar air of arrogance. If she weren’t Patricia’s grandmother, she might have admired her for the commanding presence she carried with such ease.
"Do we still have to teach you table manners at age twenty-five?" The old woman remarked, still focused on her plate, not sparing Patricia a single glance.
"I decided to go deeper this time. Opportunities are everywhere," Patricia replied, standing upright with her hands by her side like a soldier reporting to her superior. In this house, the old woman’s word carried more weight than the law. Whatever she said was final. Not even her sons, including Patricia’s father, dared to defy her.
"And yet you have found none," the old woman snapped back, drawing a few quiet snickers from the table. No one was bothering to hide their delight in her misfortune. Patricia held back from telling them she had already secured a job. If they knew, they would do everything in their power to sabotage it.
"I am trying my best," she said calmly.
Her stepmother scoffed.
"Stop trying to gain sympathy just because you are too incompetent to find work. Your sister landed a job just a year after graduating. Learn from her instead of wasting your time," she said, shaking her head as though Patricia were a disgrace.
Patricia shifted her gaze to her mother, who quickly looked away. That didn’t surprise her. Her mother had always been , a woman who couldn’t stand up for herself, who let others walk all over her. But then again, wasn’t Patricia the same? Always afraid of her stepmother, always moving in secret just to survive.
"Yes, Mother," she replied flatly, then turned to take her seat.
But before she could sit down, the old woman’s voice rang out again.
"As punishment for coming back late, you will sleep outside the gate tonight. That should teach you to be more cautious."
Without waiting for a response, the old woman rose and left the hall.
Patricia didn’t argue. She knew there was no point and no one would lift a finger to defend her. Instead, she turned around and headed for the exit.
"Leave the way you came," came her father’s voice from behind. She nodded silently and kept walking.
Outside the gate, just as she was about to take a step forward, rain began to pour. She instinctively stepped back, startled.
Pulling out her phone, she checked the time and saw that it was almost 7 p.m. Her hidden apartment was out of the question now. It was at least an hour away, and with the rain pouring, getting a taxi would be nearly impossible.
With no other option left, Patricia looked down at the unread messages from her best friend. Zara was the only person she could turn to now. But she knew Zara wouldn’t let her rest until she got every answer she wanted. Still, choosing to spill everything was better than sleeping outside in the rain. Sighing, she dropped her phone into her bag and braced herself for the downpour.
Some minutes later, she arrived at a duplex and climbed the stairs, finally stopping in front of a door marked Room 150. Shivering, she hugged herself tightly and summoned the strength to press the doorbell. When no one answered, she went in for a second ring.
Just as she raised her hand for a third try, the door suddenly flung open, revealing a petite, half-naked woman with a storm of expression on her face.
"Hi!" Patricia grinned sheepishly, but the rain had already strained her voice, making it come out hoarse.
"I am going to kill you afterwards!" Zara muttered through clenched teeth before rushing forward to pull her inside.
Zara quickly ran a hot bath for her and handed her clean clothes afterward. Patricia noticed the dirty plate of noodles Zara had left behind and anyone could obviously tell that she had eaten before now. Still, she knew Zara had likely only cooked because of her. The Zara she knew could go days without eating, as long as she had alcohol and noodles. But when it came to Patricia, she always made exceptions, always did things she wouldn’t normally do. Zara was the kind of woman Patricia wished her mother could be.
Later, as they sat at the dining table, Zara watched silently while Patricia ate...slowly and deliberately, her hand supporting her chin. Patricia knew the moment she finished eating, the interrogation would begin, so she dragged it out for as long as she could.
"You know I won’t let this go unless you talk. Quit stalling," Zara finally said, unable to hold it in any longer. She poured water from the jug into Patricia’s cup and slid it toward her.
Resigned, Patricia sighed, took a sip from the glass, and leaned back in her chair.
"Unless I find a way to terminate the marriage certificate, I can’t register our marriage," she said, her voice strained. Her resolve chipped away every time that document crossed her mind. It was like being stabbed all over again.
"Have you told him?" Zara asked, calm but firm. As frustrated as she was, she knew better than to be angry with Patricia, not after all she had been through.
"What would I even say? That I accidentally got married to someone? That my stepmother found me a husband without my knowledge? Would you believe me if the roles were reversed?" Patricia replied with a frown, running a hand through her damp hair in frustration.
"Then confront your stepmother. You have a right to choose who you marry. Your mother is the legal wife, she should be the one arranging such things, not that woman." Zara advised.
Patricia burst into a bitter laugh.
"She can’t even stand up for me in front of them. What makes you think she would ever confront my stepmother? She has no power in that house."
Though her mother was the first and legal wife, her step-mother easily replaced her when her mother left her father back then. They were always arguing, fighting and decided to give it a break, unfortunately her father could not wait any longer and got himself another wife which the old woman happened to like so much. By the time her mother came back, things had already changed and her father no longer loved her mother. Even if she tried, no one would take her mother’s side. If anything, it would only make things worse and ruin Patricia’s chances of terminating the certificate. It was better to handle it quietly, on her own.
"Well then," Zara said, sitting up and taking a deep breath. "There’s only one option left."
She smiled, and Patricia instantly understood what she meant.