(042 - Ghost.)

Congratulations to vilalove09 and @Adeola3388 for coming in third place during our Quiz night on the group chat 🤣. It was fun... and they said the questions were hard. They weren't hard na. You people are not just reading ni🌚.

This is an opportunity. If you haven't joined the group chat for my books, you are definitely missing out. If you are interested, just send me a DM and I'll send you the link. You guys are going to enjoy yourselves.

Semeeha, Semeeha, Semeeha. How many times did I call you? Hmmn.

E go be💀☹️.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐇𝐀
(Semeeha Iris Malik)

I stared down at the screen of my phone, watching all my messages loading on Whatsapp. When I saw the group chat I was looking for, my eyes settled on it, blinking with anticipation as I watched the messages from last night increase with each buzz.

And I waited.

I sat down on my bed and waited to see one indication that I was tagged in the chats. I mean, out of over five hundred messages they sent to the group chat, they should have at least tagged me in one right? Just to show that they missed me in whatever they were discussing.

Come on. I was biting down on my fingernails now.

Even if Hilary or Dawn didn't tag me which I was sure they didn't, Kizito should have tagged me. He's always tagging me whenever I'm not available for a discussion on our group chat, just to include me whenever I come online.

But there was nothing. No "At Sign". Nothing at all.

Six hundred and fifty-five messages between 7:30 pm and 11:30 pm last night and I wasn't tagged once.

The three of them had chatted yesterday on the group chat without including me... like I wasn't even there, just as it has been going on for an entire week now.

Wow.

A burst of humorless, scoff-like laughter escaped my lips and I shook my head.

I shouldn't be surprised since it wasn't the first time this was happening. I shouldn't be pained. I mean, it's just a tag, right? Maybe what they might have been discussing didn't involve me which was probably why I wasn't tagged or included.

But I knew better. I knew I was being ignored. And I was both surprised and pained.

Terribly so.

"Wow," I repeated under my breath, feeling another sharp sting of hurt pierce my heart like an arrow.

So just like that, just because of a little misunderstanding, I was suddenly none existent to them, right? I was literally a ghost to them. I no longer mattered, all because I was trying to let Dawn see how ungrateful she is?

What wrong did I do by trying to be a good friend?

Okay, maybe my words were a little harsh and unorthodox, but come on, I had to say all of that just to make Dawn see that she was being such a big cry baby over a few harmless comments on the social media, comments that she was supposed to use to her advantage and skyrocket herself to a place of fame.

Instead of her being thankful people were appreciating her body, she was busy mopping around like a spoilt brat.

What's with the entitled attitude? Who does she think she is?

Does she know how many people would kill to be in her position? How many models would die just to have that little moment of recognition she had from the whole world?

Dawn had a body that all girls our age would kill for and she's busy being so ungrateful about it.

God knows if I had a body like hers, I'd be set for life. Mother won't even have to pull her weight to get me signed in any agency. The agencies will source for me by themselves. I'll be internationally sort after and people will want me!

Kizito would want me.

Maybe if I had a body like hers, he would look at me twice. Maybe he wouldn't have even had an eye for that BITCH.

But he wasn't talking to me. I know I've been staying away from the group, but he wasn't reaching out to me by himself.

Kizito always reaches out to me. He's always coming after me, but this time he wasn't and it was painful. So painful.

Dawn painting me as the bad guy wasn't that painful because it's something she always does. Hilary attacking me straight up after everything I said was a little shocking because she hardly gets angry.

But they were not as painful as Kizito not knowing half what happened before concluding in his mind that I was the one at fault.

It's always Semeeha.

I'm always the bad guy in their books.

Is that how irrelevant I am to him, that he didn't give me as much as a benefit of the doubt? It was strange because Kizito always gives me a benefit of the doubt.

Maybe it was Gigi Esho poisoning his mind against me. It had to be her.

That BITCH!

A loud hiss escaped my lips and echoed through the room. I could feel contempt and malice wash through me as the image of Gigi Esho flashed through my mind, filling me with an unimaginable wave of anger. I've never felt so much anger and irritation towards a person, anger, and irritation that made me want to claw my eyes out so that I'd never see her again.

No one has ever made me feel so petty in my entire life!

Impulsively and with the extreme pettiness I was feeling, I tapped on the group chat setting that viewed the four of us; Hilary, Dawn, Kizito, and me as participants, and before I could think things through, I got the exit button.

You left.
You can't send messages to this group because you are no longer a participant.

Even though the satisfaction I hoped to get from leaving the group chat didn't come, I tried to act like it did. Let's see if any of them would care enough to notice that I left the group chat. Let's see if Kizito would care enough to notice.

Knowing my friends, they'll come for me... eventually.

I know they will. They always apologize first, and this will not be an exception.

And if they don't?

A foreign voice made its way into my head, filling my mind with thoughts of the possibility that my friends might not come from me as they have always done this time. Thoughts of the possibility that they won't be the one to apologize first this time.

You will have to be the one to apologize. You know deep down that you were wrong.

The voice came again, persuasively this time. Instantly, I shook my head vigorously, desperately trying to get my mind as far away from that singular thought as possible. Over my dead body would I admit being wrong. Over my dead body would I apologize for being right. Over my dead body would I apologize for calling an ungrateful person out.

I was right and they were wrong!

I'm Always Right!

And if they don't apologize first for overreacting, then that's fine. We can keep acting like ghosts to each other for all I care. I am better off without them and I know I am.

I don't give two fucks what they think about me.

I don't care.

But as I placed my phone on the bed and rose from my bed to stand in front of my full-length mirror, staring at my reflection... as I tugged down on my school blazer to hide the slight, almost inconspicuous bump of my tummy... as I watched in complete silence as one lone tear made its way out through the corner of my eyes,

Deep down, I knew it. God knew it. Even the Universe knew it.

I care.

I give plenty fucks what they think about me.

If I didn't, I wouldn't have been stress-eating this past week.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

"Iris,"

I had barely gotten to the end of the staircase that led downstairs when I heard my name.

My middle name.

Only one person called me that.

Sudden coldness flooded my body that instant. I stood, my feet frozen against the floor that same second as goosebumps hit my skin, my heart pounding rampantly against my chest at an accelerated speed.

I could feel the palms of my getting clammy with sweat, my knees locking together so hard that I almost tripped and fell down the staircase. But I wouldn't dare do that. I just forced myself to stand and stare back at the woman.

My Mother.

What is she doing at home? She isn't supposed to still be around. I calculated.

With that thought, I glanced at my wristwatch to catch a glimpse of the time. It was 7:45 am. She wasn't meant to be at home at this time. Except she wasn't following her schedule which was very absurd to even think about.

Natasha Malik is obsessed with following schedules to the latter. It's exactly why she's my manager.

This was totally out of character for her and the simple thought of that made me feel on edge.

"Mother," I tried not to stutter as I forced out that word through my lips, unable to hide the shock in my tone.

Even with how I had called to her, she didn't look up from the plate in front of her, not even a glance. She kept eating her breakfast of pancakes, coated with maple syrup, whipped cream, and raspberries, sparing me not one look.

She was taking her sweet, precious time, ever so delicately cutting a tiny piece out of the layers of pancake on her plate as if she was scared of breaking her neatly manicured blood-red fingernails.

I stood unflinchingly at the beginning of the staircase, watching her stab the piece of pancake with her fork before lifting it to her mouth. I kept watching as her burgundy lipstick-coated lips parted ways for the pancake to go through, daintily biting off the piece from the fork so that she won't ruin her lipstick.

Then suddenly, she dropped her cutleries... and lifted her eyes away from the plate to look at me in a cold, frosty stare.

I gulped loudly... embarrassingly if I might add. I threw a hand over my mouth when I saw my ever tenacious Mother's eyes twitch in disgust. It was almost unnoticeable, but it was there. And I saw it.

I forced myself not to gulp again.

"Are you going to keep standing there like a bloody statue, or do you want me to come to drag you to this place."

She wasn't asking. She was threatening. And though her tone was calm, the threatening undertone in it made an aggressive chill run down my spine, making me shiver involuntarily.

I consciously tugged my blazer down again to hide my tummy, carefully making my way to the dining room till I was standing at the other end of the long dining table, quite a distance away from my Mother who had gone back to eating as though nothing happened. I stood by my seat, waiting for her to give the order for me to sit.

Yes, I dare not place my buttocks on that chair if she doesn't say I should sit down.

Restraining myself from tapping my leg nervously against the floor, I discreetly tugged down at my blazer again. The distance between Mother and me didn't make me feel relaxed. If anything, I felt even more uneasy knowing that no matter how inconspicuous the bump was, there was no way it would go unnoticed by my Mother.

She was definitely bound to notice the increase in my weight too, even if I only creased in weight by five kilograms.

Natasha Malik would know. She always knows.

But like every time, I prayed that she didn't notice today.

"Sit."

At that order, the maid assigned to my sit ran to take out my chair for me so I can sit down. I sat down, holding my breath as I kept my eyes on Mother, trying to read her, to know what her next was. But I couldn't. It was almost impossible to know the things going on in Natasha Malik's head.

The woman in question was just sitting there, eating like I wasn't sitting opposite her.

What is she thinking?

"Semeeha darling," A familiar motherly voice tore through my thoughts. I looked up to see Mama Marie making her way out of the kitchen and towards me, holding a tray in her hands. My lips stretched in an automatic smile.

"Mama Marie, Good Morning," I greeted her with a beaming smile. With her presence in the room, I felt a bit relaxed. Even with the way my Mother was so against me relating with the help, Mama Marie was probably the only worker I spoke to freely.

I think Mother had some sort of low-key respect for the elderly woman even though she failed to show it.

"How was your night?" The older woman asked me when she got in front of me. I glanced at Mother who was still eating, slicing the pancakes into tiny pieces before stabbing them with her fork and putting it into her mouth, then looked back at Mama Marie and just nodded, still smiling.

My night was just like any other night. Cold, Lonely, and Dreamless.

But that was better than having nightmares right?

"Here is your breakfast," She told me, making a move to put the tray she was holding on the table in front of me.

"She's not eating," Came Mother's icy voice, stopping Mama Marie midway.

I looked at her, wondering why she had told Mama Marie that I wasn't eating. Despite the bump in my tummy, I actually still wanted to eat. Not because I was stressed, but because I was hungry.

Really Hungry.

I didn't eat to sleep last night because I didn't want my tummy to increase more than it had already increased.

I looked at Mama to see her staring at Mother in confusion, holding the tray in her hands.

"But Madam Natasha-" She began, but Mother. held her hand up, silencing Mama in a dismissive wave. I swallowed, my feet tapping against the floor silently in nervousness, wondering what Mother was up to.

Did she notice? Was that why she was cutting my breakfast?

The light-skinned woman that looked nothing like me dropped her cutleries with a soft clang on the ceramic plate, slowly looking up till her eyes met mine, grey contact lenses peering at me that accentuated the coldness of her glare at me.

Yes, she was glaring at me, burgundy lips in a grim line and her well-made up face in a scowl. That was enough for me to know that there has been a caught.

She knows.

"You thought I won't notice the steady weight gain, didn't you,"

She wasn't asking me, she was telling me because she didn't born me well to try to deny it. I averted my glance away from her for a moment, only for the table to vibrate with a loud bang that made me jump and my head jerk back to its initial position. Mama Marie didn't as much as flinch, looking between me and my mother with an expression I couldn't read.

I looked back at Mother, seeing that her gaze had hardened even more and the scowl on her face was a lot scary, it shook me to my core.

"Don't ever look away when I'm talking to you." Her voice was still as calm as ever, but I couldn't miss the warning undertone and the venom sipping through her words.

I quickly nodded, gulping inaudibly.

"Words!" She ordered, her voice harsh this time.

"Yes Mother," I forced out, thanking my stars that I didn't stutter.

"Did you really think I won't notice the little bump in your belly and the slight increase in your weight?" She continued like nothing had happened, her well-drawn brows furrowed in a deeper scowl. It was a question but I dare not answer it.

"I have been watching you gain weight over the week like a pregnant elephant," She went on casually. I felt a pang in my chest but pushed it down. "I didn't say anything because I thought with the millions I'm paying at that school of yours, you'd be smart enough to do the right thing and fix yourself back to perfection. But no, you are just as empty-headed as I initially presumed you to be, getting fat and ugly like a hippo."

Wow.

She laid out those words, those powerfully destructive words like she was giving candy out to a baby, looking at me right in the eye as she said those words without daunting... words that broke me down to the ground and shattered me completely,

Mama Marie was witnessing it all. I could feel her eyes on me, could sense the pity radiating from her. But I didn't want to see it, so I didn't bother looking at her. I prefer to stare at my mother right in the eye, listen to everything she has to say to me, and digest it, than for someone to see me as weak and helpless.

Natasha Malik, my Mother, called me Fat and Ugly.

But, where is the lie? Where exactly is the lie?

"Do you think the agency will want you to be the face of any brand with the way you are going?" Her voice was rising now. "Do you think brands like fat girls on the cover of their products? Do you think if any new agency sees how ugly and flabby you are, they'd want to sign you?-

Do you think it's because you have me, that's a reason to misbehave and be such a fool? Do I have to always be the one pulling the strings for you, you ungrateful and stupid child!" She snapped, hitting her hand on the table for a second time, causing me to jump again. A tear threatened to escape my eyes but I quickly took my hand to clean it before Mother sees it.

"I'm sorry, Mother," I whispered.

This is all my fault. This is my fault. I should discipline myself more. I should stop eating too much.

"Madam Natasha, maybe you need to take it easy on-" Mama Marie wanted to intervene again.

"Shut up, Marie," Mother snapped at the older woman, pointing a warning dinner at her. "This is between my child and me. The next time you try to interfere, it will be your last day here. You know I don't bluff." She threatened Mama, who looked back at her without moving a muscle.

The tone of her voice and the fact that she had literally disregarded a woman much older than her made me cringe. It also made me blame myself even more. Mama Marie won't be in such an embarrassing situation if it wasn't for me.

"Iris," Mother called out to me and I turned to look at her, trying to hold her piercing gaze with mine.

"Yes, Mother," I answered.

"For the rest of this week, you won't eat anything except fruits and water," She instructed, giving out the usual solution to my predicament. "You won't wait for anyone or go anywhere after school, you'll come straight home and work out in the gym for four hours. I'll get you a gym instructor to guide you."

"Yes, Mother," Was all I could say. I couldn't argue, couldn't protest. When I'm not mad.

"Now let me warn you," Her voice toned an octave lower, undertones of venom, menace, and foreboding sipping through, causing a frigid chill to creep up and down my spine. I swallowed.

"I always know what you are up to, so don't even think for one second that you can outsmart me," Her voice held so much contempt. "If you break your diet, I'll know. If you stay back in school for a stupid reason, I'll find out. If you don't finish the four hours of gym time, I'll get to know. If you flout my orders..." She trailed off, a humorless, yet malicious laugh escaping her lips. "You are in big trouble."

I gulped for the umpteenth, the feeling of dread washing over me in waves.

"Yes, Mother," I was beginning to sound like a broken record but