IN silent disbelief Xaniyah sat, her fingers clenching and unclenching on her thighs, trying hard to comprehend the whirlwind of change that had just swept over her life like a raging storm.

“What… did you just say Uncle?” She managed to ask, finding her voice.

“After the funeral rites,” he began again, “you would be coming with us to the province,” he said in that deep, final tone that always made her stomach churn, “that is the very best option.”

Xaniyah blinked, as though blinking could erase the words.

“The… what?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“The province,” he repeated. “That is where your roots are. Where your father came from. It is only right you continue life with us there.”

She sat rigid, mouth slightly parted. A shaky breath escaped her lips.

“But I’m nineteen… I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

Ermis sighed, his brows furrowing in a way that made it obvious he didn’t want to argue.

“Xaniyah you can't, stop assuring yourself that you can.”

Her eyes flushed, it began glistening, as though it was about to shed again.

“Of course I can. The house is still very much standing, and its properties therein. It is enough for me,” she tried to make him see reasons with her. But Ermis couldn't.

He sighed.

“Xaniyah, I know you are still grieving, that your parents left behind their home, yes, and a few properties, I know all that, but you are still a minor. You are not ready to handle life alone.”

She swallowed.

“I can manage Uncle,” she shifted on her seat, “okay if I should go with you guys as you are insinuating, how would I go on with my school life? I… I was already attending tutorial classes, preparing for college, I have my plans all laid out already Uncle.” There were pleas in her eyes, honest pleas that Ermis had to look away, he didn't want to be hypnotized.

He kept mute, obviously lost for words and she used this allibi to speak more.

“I have Aunt Salma around. She was Mom’s best friend and would take care of me just as Mom would. And Thalia too, she is there as well… she is always by my side.”

Ermis turned to her, his eyes narrowed just slightly, but he didn’t soften.

“You need family, not friends. Not family friends. Blood. You are the only blood left of my brother, and as his only sibling, I am taking responsibility. That is final.”

She rose to her feet, panic bubbling in her chest like lava.

“I don’t want to go to the province!” she blurted, louder than she intended. “I have never even been there! Dad never took me. He never even talked much about it. How do you expect me to adjust? To suddenly—”

He raised a hand, silencing her.

“It is for your good. You will get to know your heritage, you will get to know where you come from. There is a college there, better than most here. And more importantly, you will be with your people. Your father made the mistake of cutting off from his roots. I won’t let you make the same.”

Xaniyah clenched her fists. He just didn’t get it.

It wasn’t just about moving to the province. It was about who she would be moving in with. Ermis’s family. His overbearing wife and their daughter, Danica. That name alone made her want to scream. Always acting like the queen of the world. Rude, entitled, and always looking for ways to bring Xaniyah down with a smile that never reached her eyes.

God! She couldn't survive a week under the same roof with them. It wasn’t a home. It would be a cage.

But even though her thoughts screamed, she didn’t say that part aloud. She couldn’t. Her respect for her late father wouldn't let her slander his brother’s family, no matter how cruel they were.

Instead, she lowered her voice, hoping to find a sliver of mercy in Ermis’s heart.

“Please, Uncle Ermis… can’t we work something else out? I will stay with Aunt Salma, she knows me, you know her. She has been helping already. I’m not asking for anything else.”

Ermis stood now, towering over her, his voice edged with finality.

“No. My decision is made. You are leaving with us. Start preparing your things. Go see whatever friend you need to see, and say your goodbyes. We leave after the mourning period is over.”

Xaniyah froze for a moment, every emotion rushing into her at once, loss, frustration, fear, sadness… anger.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed down the livingroom, heading for the hallway, blinking hard to keep the tears at bay.

She passed the dining area, passed the old family portraits still hanging on the wall, portraits of happier times when her parents' laughter filled every room. When her mother called her “my star,” and her father dropped surprise forehead kisses as she studied for tests.

Now… silence. A cruel silence that echoed the loneliness growing in her chest.

As Xaniyah was about to make a bend into the hallway, a voice halted her. That voice.

That familiar, annoying voice.

“Hey you!”

She paused, her back still turned. Her jaw clenched. That voice belonged to no other than Danica, her cousin. Or better yet, her tormentor in disguise. And just like always, Danica was seated at the dining table, shamelessly stuffing her mouth with roast lamb and potatoes, her legs propped up like she owned the damn house. Her mother, the ever-judging, ever-condescending version of Cruella, sat across from her sipping tea with pink polished nails and zero emotion.

Xaniyah slowly turned, forcing a blank look on her face.

“Yes?” she said flatly, barely glancing in Danica’s direction.

Danica snickered.

“Oh, so the little princess is leaving her throne and running to her bedroom now?” she said mockingly, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Xaniyah stayed quiet.

Danica continued, “Tch. You have been sulking around all day like someone stole your soul. Newsflash, cousin, your parents are dead. Crying won’t bring them back. You should be grateful my dad is taking you in.”

Xaniyah’s fingers tightened around the hem of her dress.

“I mean,” Danica carried on, wiping her hands with a napkin, “not everyone would take in a sad little orphan with no future, no boyfriend, no social life—”

“Shut up, Danica.”

Danica blinked.

Xaniyah took a step forward, her eyes blazing.

“You don’t get to talk about my parents. You don’t get to talk about my life. You think sitting there acting like your mother’s clone makes you powerful? Newsflash, you are nothing but a bitter, insecure brat who feeds off other people’s pain because you don’t know what it means to be truly loved.”

Danica’s smug expression dropped a little.

“Keep talking trash,” Xaniyah added, voice low and controlled, “and I promise, province or no province, I will show you just how much I can take before I snap.”

Danica rolled her eyes, clearly trying to regain her cool.

“Pfft, whatever.”

Without waiting for more nonsense, Xaniyah turned on her heels and strode toward her room, her heart pounding, her throat burning with unshed rage. She could still feel the weight of their stares behind her, Aunt Dimitra’s cold silence and Danica’s bruised ego.

She didn’t care.

She shut her door behind her with a quiet click, leaning against it and releasing a long, shaky breath. Her room, her safe space was still hers for now. For a few more weeks. And she would hold on to it… until the day she was forced to trade it for the unknown life that waited in the province.