His Witchy Mate

He smirked, and I felt a wave of anger burn within me. The audacity to mock me in the middle of a confrontation was damn frustrating. My hands balled into fists, and with a surge of adrenaline, I pushed against him with all my might. He stumbled back, his surprise obvious for a brief moment before he regained his balance.

“Leave and never come back, never leave me alone,” I spat the words at him, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. He didn’t say a word, but his exit was swift, leaving me in the dust of his absence.

As the door clicked shut, I hastily locked it, my hands trembling. I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my cheeks like an unending torrent. The floodgates of emotions that I had fought so hard to keep contained finally burst open.

“Why… why did he have to come back?” I whispered to myself through sobs, my heart aching as memories of the past resurfaced. The pain was as fresh as it had been all those years ago. “Why did he have to hurt me the way he did? Why does my heart still beat so hard for him?”

Mira entered the room. Her presence was a mix of comfort and chaos. She embraced me. Her attempts at comfort only fanned the flames of my grief. My tears fell without hesitation, and in that moment, I felt the weight of my emotions consume me. The wounds he had inflicted on my heart were far from healed, and his return had torn open old scars, leaving me to deal with the pain all over again.

I sat on the floor, the weight of the memories crashing down on me like a tidal wave. The pain of that night resurfaced. Each moment stuck clearly in my mind – the broken promises, the shattered trust, the heartache that seemed to know no bounds. He had taken away my happiness, turned my world upside down, and now, with his return, he was acting as if none of it had ever happened. It was as if the wounds he had caused had never existed, as if my suffering was inconsequential to him. The audacity of it all was overwhelming, leaving my heart heavier than ever before.

The next day dawned, a new morning with a familiar routine. I was in the process of getting ready for work when a sudden, loud knock reverberated through my apartment. My curiosity was sparked, but I chose to initially ignore it. Unannounced visitors were not a common occurrence, and I wasn’t in the mood for unexpected interruptions. My friend Mira had an early shift, and I was grateful for the time alone that allowed me to process everything that had transpired.

But the banging persisted, growing louder and more insistent with each thud. Irritation welled up within me, mingling with the traces of yesterday’s turmoil. With a sigh of frustration, I reluctantly abandoned my preparations and moved towards the door.

I opened it, my eyes widening in surprise as I beheld my mother standing before me. Her presence was unexpected, a rarity that left me momentarily speechless. I had grown accustomed to her absence, to the silence that had replaced the once-present bond between us. The shock of her sudden appearance left me at a loss for words.

“Mother?” My voice carried a mix of shock and uncertainty as I stared at her, struggling to comprehend her unexpected visit.

Her response was brisk and authoritative. “Yes, yes, allow me to come in,” she declared loudly, her tone brooking no argument as she pushed past me and entered my apartment without so much as an invitation.

I closed the door behind her. My emotions were a mix of surprise and resignation. I knew better than to challenge her behavior; my mother was the epitome of a drama queen, and any attempt to resist her whims would only lead to more theatrics. She had a way of making her presence known, asserting herself as if she had never been absent from my life. It was a skill that simultaneously exasperated and amused me.

I watched as she moved about my space, seemingly at home despite her extended absence. I refrained from commenting, allowing her to do as she pleased. I had learned through experience that it was often easier to let her carry on with her theatrics than to engage in a useless argument.

“Alright, Mother, you’re in now. What did you want?” My voice was direct, the impatience I felt evident in my tone. I didn’t mince words; time was precious, and I had no intention of indulging in her whims for longer than necessary.

Her response was likely to be as dramatic as her entrance, and I steeled myself for the inevitable display of emotion that was sure to follow. My mother was skilled at making her needs known, even if her timing and methods left much to be desired.

“Is this how you speak to your mother? You have no simple courtesy anymore,” her mother’s voice cut through the air, laced with anger and disappointment. Her gaze bore into me, a mix of shock and disapproval etched across her features.

I met her gaze without flinching, my own emotions simmering just beneath the surface. The facade of respect I had once held for this woman had eroded over time, replaced by a seething resentment. Her presence before me now stirred up a whirlwind of emotions that I struggled to contain.

The audacity of her reproach left me incredulous. She, who had turned her back on me when I needed her the most, dared to lecture me on courtesy? I knew my actions had been wrong, that society’s norms had been violated, but her abandonment had hurt me in ways that ran deeper than I could explain. If my own mother could cast me aside so easily, what hope did I have of finding support elsewhere?

“Mom, let’s not pretend you care about me or my well-being. Why not spare us both the charade and reveal your true intentions?” My words dripped with a mixture of bitterness and frustration, the raw pain of the past resurfacing with each syllable.

She had played a role in my suffering, aided in my punishment by the hands of Her Majesty, even though I was her own flesh and blood. The memories of that betrayal were etched into my psyche, and they fueled my anger toward her. Her presence now only stirred the flames of my anger.

I yearned for her to stay away, to never darken my doorstep again. Her presence invoked memories I had worked so hard to suppress, and I refused to allow her to undo the progress I had made in healing from the scars of the past.

“You’ve grown quite brazen, but don’t worry, that attitude will be fixed soon enough,” she retorted, her tone carrying a mix of sternness and resignation. I sensed a hint of something more in her words, something calculated and purposeful.

A chill ran down my spine. The weight of her words hung heavily in the air, and a sense of anxiety settled over me. It was clear that her visit was not a mere coincidence; she had come with a purpose, a plan formed from motives I couldn’t yet comprehend. The fear that had been sparked by Lucian’s unexpected return now morphed into something deeper, a growing uncertainty about the future.

I stared at my mother, my frustration growing by the second. It was like trying to decipher a puzzle with missing pieces – her words were cryptic and intentionally confusing. Was this some sort of twisted power play? I couldn’t make sense of her intentions, and that only fueled my annoyance.

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say,” I said, my voice tinged with exasperation. My mother’s smirk was unsettling, as if she found amusement in my confusion. But I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me unravel.

A bitter chuckle escaped me. “You’re hoping I’ll beg for an explanation, aren’t you? Well, it won’t happen.”

Her smile widened, confirming my suspicions that she was thoroughly enjoying this mind game. I clenched my fists, trying to rein in my frustration. I was done being a pawn in her manipulative schemes.

And then, with a casual nonchalance that infuriated me even more, she dropped her bombshell. My heart seemed to stop for a moment, the weight of her words crashing down on me like a tidal wave. She couldn’t be serious, could she?Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

I glared at her, incredulous. How could she think she had any right to decide my path? I had fought tooth and nail to regain control over my life after everything she had put me through. Her attempts to manipulate me again were met with the fierce resolve I had cultivated over the years.

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’ll follow your orders. You can’t control me anymore,” I snapped, my voice sharp with anger.