Chapter 283: 283/A Shield of Silk and Shadow

Chapter 283:

Steve’s POV

I opened my eyes the next morning feeling as if a boulder was sitting on my chest. My head felt like it was going to explode from overthinking and the dark scenarios that hadn’t stopped swirling in my mind all night. A sense of total helplessness crept into my limbs, as if I were paralyzed before a dead-end wall. Julie still insisted with a frightening coldness on aborting the child; that determination I saw in her eyes yesterday wasn’t just a fleeting fit of anger, but a decision rooted in her wounded soul.

I was completely lost, torn between supporting her decision to rid her of this torment and my own moral opposition to the idea of ending a life. Yesterday, I exhausted every ounce of my physical and psychological strength to make her back down from her madness, but her body shook with defiance. She didn’t calm down or stop trying to harm herself until I promised her, with a heavy heart, that I would find a solution today.

I had to go to the warehouse; Tono’s threat was serious. But the thought of leaving her alone in that room made my heart tremble with anxiety. Who could guarantee she wouldn’t try to throw herself down again as soon as I left? I suddenly remembered our neighbor, Salma, and her husband, Mr. Omar. They were a couple overflowing with dignity and kindness, and their presence always brought a sense of peace.

I got up with an exhausted body, prepared breakfast, and took it to her room with cautious steps. I prayed silently that she wouldn’t vomit again. But as soon as I placed the tray before her and the scent of bread hit her nose, her face turned frighteningly pale. Her body shook, and she ran toward the bathroom like she’d been electrocuted, covering her mouth with her hands.

She returned after a few minutes, staggering and leaning against the walls to balance herself. I approached and held her arm to support her, saying in a voice full of fear: "Julie... your condition is getting worse. You must see a doctor immediately."

She wiped her lips with a trembling hand and looked at me with a cold gaze, void of any expression except determination: "Steve, you promised me... I want to abort this child. Find me a solution today, or I will take matters into my own hands."

I let out a long sigh laden with sorrow: "Fine, Julie, calm down... I’ll do what I can. But I have to go to work today, and I absolutely cannot leave you alone in this collapsed state."

She replied with a strange indifference, lying back down on her bed: "Go to your work. I’ll be fine... I won’t do anything now."

I didn’t trust her calm tone. I put on my coat quickly and said: "I’m leaving now, but I’m going to ask our neighbor Salma to come check on you from time to time. I’ll leave her a copy of the key."

She frowned with clear annoyance and muttered: "There’s no need for that at all. I’m not a child."

I replied firmly as I headed toward the door: "I won’t have peace of mind while I’m away from you, Julie. I’m going to ask her, and that’s final."

She turned her face away and whispered in despair: "As you wish... do what you see fit."

I left the apartment, the pressure mounting. I headed straight to the opposite apartment and knocked gently. Mr. Omar opened with his calm smile: "Welcome, son. Are you alright?"

I swallowed hard and said in a pleading tone: "Hello, Mr. Omar... I apologize for the intrusion, but I wanted to ask a favor. My sister Julie is very sick today, and I have to go to work immediately. Could Mrs. Salma check on her from time to time?"

Mr. Omar nodded graciously and patted my shoulder: "Of course, Steve. Don’t worry at all. Salma will be there shortly to care for her like her own daughter."

I handed him the key with fingers cold from anxiety and thanked him profusely before rushing off. I hailed the first taxi I saw. Sitting in the back, I felt I was in a race against time. I had to find a reliable clinic for the abortion; I realized I couldn’t force her to keep a child that would be a permanent, eternal reminder of Robert’s hideous betrayal.

I pulled out my phone and began searching Google for specialized clinics in the area. After a careful search, I found a clinic called "East Bay." Its reviews seemed good. I called the number immediately, my heart pounding as if it wanted to jump out of my chest.

A woman answered in a formal, calm voice: "East Bay Clinic, how can I help you, sir?"

I said in a shaky, agitated voice: "I want... I want to book an urgent appointment, please... for an abortion procedure."

The employee went silent for a second, then asked with a tone of concern: "An urgent appointment? Is the lady’s health in danger?"

I gripped the phone until my knuckles turned white: "Her life is indeed in danger, not just physically but mentally... she’s trying to end things herself in dangerous ways. Please, if there’s any appointment soon, even today, I’d be very grateful."

The woman’s tone shifted to sympathy: "I understand, sir. Stay calm... I’ll check the records immediately and speak with the specialist regarding this emergency. I’ll call you back in minutes."

I felt a slight relief, as if a heavy burden had shifted: "Thank you truly. I’m waiting for your call."

I ended the call and leaned my tired head against the cold taxi window, watching the passersby without actually seeing them. I prayed from the bottom of my heart that they would find her an appointment as soon as possible. The sight of Julie yesterday trying to throw herself down with all her might had struck me with an existential terror I had never known.

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Julie’s POV

I curled up on the bed like a fetus afraid to come out into the world. I squeezed my knees to my chest and closed my eyes until it hurt, trying with all my might to silence the violent noise hitting my head. I was trying desperately to erase images of the past and forget the bitterness of the deception I had tasted. Suddenly, the silence of the room was pierced by a light, cautious knock on the door. Blood froze in my veins, and a shiver of terror swept through my limbs.

My breath hitched as I wondered in panic: "Did Robert find me this quickly? Is he the one standing behind that door?" I remained frozen, not daring to blink, until I heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. It was followed by a soft, calm female voice overflowing with serenity: "Hello... don’t be afraid. It’s Salma, your neighbor."

I let out a long exhale and felt mountains of worry lift. It was the kind neighbor. I stood up with heavy steps, my body still shaking from the shock, and went out to the living room to find her standing with her usual dignity. She wore her long black cloak that covered her completely, nothing showing of her features but her calm eyes behind the veil. I said in a faint voice: "Hello, Mrs. Salma... please come in. I apologize."

She nodded kindly and said as she closed the door: "Your brother Steve gave me the key, but I wanted to knock first out of respect for your privacy. When I waited and you didn’t answer, I came in just to check on you."

I lowered my head in shame: "I’m truly sorry. It seems I was lost in my thoughts and didn’t hear you."

She stepped closer, observing my pale face with eyes full of sadness: "Are you truly alright, my daughter? You look as if you’re carrying the worries of the world on your shoulders."

I replied mechanically, trying to hide my ruin: "I’m fine, thank you for asking... please, have a seat."

We sat side by side on the sofa. She broke the silence: "Your brother came to speak with my husband, Omar. He seemed very worried. He told us you were sick and suffering... what is wrong, Julie? Your face screams with pain."

The words stumbled in my throat. I felt a bitter lump preventing me from speaking: "I... I am actually..." She interrupted me with a warm touch on my hand: "It’s alright, little one. Don’t pressure yourself. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to."

But in that moment, for a mysterious reason, I felt a desperate need to confess: "I am pregnant."

She paused for a second, then lifted the thin cover from her face to reveal a sincere, warm smile: "That is beautiful news... congratulations, my daughter."

I shook my head in a sharp, violent refusal: "I don’t want this fetus, Mrs. Salma... I don’t want it at all."

Her eyes widened in clear surprise, her smile fading into a look of astonishment: "It is a gift from God. How can you say you don’t want it? There are those who burn their lives away for such a blessing."

I replied with heat, tears beginning to make their way down my cheeks: "I cannot accept it inside me... I cannot love a child that reminds me of every moment of humiliation and deception I lived with him... I cannot."

She looked at me with total seriousness and said in a warning tone: "Have you thought that you will be killing an innocent soul? This is a grave mistake, my daughter, and a great sin you will carry all your life... please, think carefully before it’s too late."

I averted my gaze: "I’ve thought of everything. I don’t want any connection or memory that ties me to his father. I want to cut all the threads that might pull me back to him again."

She asked quietly: "Does his father know about this?" I replied immediately: "No, and he will never know... I will bury this secret with me."

Mrs. Salma was silent for a while. Then she said in a voice full of deep sadness: "Julie, I have been married to Omar for over twenty years. we’ve spent our lives moving between doctors and hospitals. Everyone assured us there were no medical reasons, yet God has not blessed me with a single child until now."

I felt ashamed of myself: "I am so sorry to hear that."

She continued with a heart-touching sincerity: "That’s why I tell you, think well... maybe this little one is your lifeline and your new hope in this harsh life. He is a part of you, of your blood and flesh. Do not wrong him because of his father’s mistakes."

Her words hit my heart like a shock. Despite my intense hatred for Robert, this fetus growing inside me was a piece of me as well. But I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white: "I have made my decision, Mrs. Salma, and I won’t back down no matter what."

She let out a sad sigh of surrender: "As you wish. I cannot pressure you."

A short, heavy silence followed before panic struck me again: "The problem now is that I’m afraid to leave this apartment to go to the abortion clinic... I’m terrified the father will find me on the way. He’s a very dangerous man with eyes everywhere."

She looked at me with pity and prayed for me in a low voice. In that moment of panic, a strange idea flashed in my mind. I looked at her black attire and said pleadingly: "Mrs. Salma, may I ask one last favor? Could you lend me a cloak like the one you’re wearing now?"

She raised her eyebrows: "You mean the niqab and this long dress?"

I nodded quickly: "Yes, I want one exactly like it... I’ll wear it when I go out. That way, no one will recognize me, and Robert or his men will never be able to spot me."

She agreed without hesitation. She left and returned minutes later carrying the black garment. I thanked her from the bottom of my heart. I waited for Steve’s return, tension gnawing at my nerves. As soon as the door opened and I saw his face, I ran toward him: "Tell me, Steve, did you find a solution? Did you book the appointment?"

He averted his gaze, appearing to flee from the truth: "Yes... I called the clinic and booked an urgent appointment. We have to be there in an hour... go, get yourself ready."

I entered the room with lightning speed and put on the black niqab for the first time. I placed the cover over my face carefully; nothing showed of me but my worried, fearful eyes. When I went out to the living room, Steve stood stunned. His eyes widened in shock: "What is this you’re wearing?"

I said in a tone I tried to keep steady: "It’s the niqab... I borrowed it from Mrs. Salma. It’s the only shield that will protect me from Robert’s eyes outside."

Steve asked me one last time, his voice heavy with hesitation: "Julie... are you truly sure of what you’re doing? Do you really want to kill this fetus?"

I didn’t utter a word, nor did I look at him. I walked toward the door with mechanical steps like a body without a soul: "Time is running out... let’s go, Steve."