Chapter Twenty One

Maliya's POV

Maliya’s hands trembled as she stood there, gripping the door handle. She wanted to scream, to throw something, to rip the walls down, but she held it in. The nerve of Leila! How dare she speak to her like that? How dare she act as if she could walk in here and take what was hers? She had spent weeks holding Leila’s life in her hands, making sure things went her way. And now Leila was suddenly trying to reclaim control? No. It wasn’t going to happen. Not if Maliya could help it.

She let out a slow breath, forcing herself to calm down. I can do this. I know what I have to do. The thought simmered in her mind, and with a sharp motion, she swung the door open.

“Leila,” she murmured as if trying to soothe her nerves more than Leila. “I’m sorry… I should’ve been a better friend. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes inwardly. She’s so dramatic.

Leila didn’t even glance up when Maliya entered the room, still sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands folded tightly in her lap, her back turned, eyes trained on the window. She could feel the tension in the room, thick like smoke.

Maliya stepped closer, her breath shallow. The glass of milk she had carefully prepared was still warm, the scent of sweetness filling the air. The drug was already dissolving within it, almost imperceptible, and it wouldn’t be long before Leila started to feel the effects. Maliya smirked to herself. This would put Leila back in her place.

“I know things have been tense between us,” Maliya said, voice soft but carrying the weight of something more. “But I want to make things right.”

Leila’s eyes flickered to Maliya, her expression unreadable before she turned her gaze back to the window.

“You want to make things right?” Leila’s voice was low, the words slow. “You’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side.”

Maliya took a cautious step forward, the glass of milk in her hand trembling slightly. She set it down on the nightstand beside Leila and smiled faintly, hoping to seem sincere, hoping to hide the malice that she couldn’t quite suppress.

“I’ve been a terrible friend, I know. But I want to change that. I want us to be okay again,” Maliya said. She put on her best pleading face, leaning in slightly. “Please, just drink it, Leila. It’ll make everything better, I promise.”

Leila glanced at the glass with distaste, the corner of her lip curling slightly. “I don’t drink things handed to me,” she said, her tone flat and cold. “Especially from someone like you.”

Maliya’s smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered, her eyes darkening with determination. “It’s just milk. Nothing more,” she pressed, her voice smooth now, coaxing. “I swear, it’s nothing bad. I only want to help.”

She waited for Leila to respond, but there was nothing, only the sound of the wind whistling through the cracks of the window. Maliya’s hands tightened around the glass, her grip nearly breaking the delicate edges of the cup. She had to be patient. She had to get her to drink it.

The silence stretched on, unbearable, until Maliya couldn’t take it anymore.

“You’re still angry with me, I know. But you have to trust me, Leila. We’re friends.” She leaned closer, her voice softer now, almost affectionate. “Let me help you… Let me help you feel better. You’ve been through so much.”

Leila’s gaze flickered to the glass, the smallest glimmer of hesitation crossing her features. She turned her head slowly, locking eyes with Maliya. The quiet between them was electric, humming with unspoken tension.

“No. I don’t trust you,” Leila finally said, her voice a whisper. “Not after what you did.”

Maliya felt a brief pang of frustration, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she smiled, her teeth gleaming.

“You don’t have to trust me, but you do need rest. You’ve been so restless lately, Leila.” She picked up the glass, holding it up to Leila’s lips. “Please, just one drink. For me.”

For a moment, Leila said nothing, her fingers slowly curling into the blanket beneath her. She watched Maliya, her eyes unreadable, and then, with a flash of defiance, she lifted the glass.

“Fine,” she muttered. “But don’t think this means anything.”

Maliya’s heart skipped a beat as Leila brought the glass to her lips. For just a second, Maliya thought she might win, thought Leila might give in. But as the glass hovered inches from Leila’s mouth, something strange happened. The glass slipped from Leila’s hand.

The milk splashed across the bed, a few drops landing on the sheets and the floor. Maliya gasped, her eyes widening in shock.

Leila’s gaze met hers, cool and distant.

“You think I’d fall for that?” Leila asked, her voice deceptively calm. She slowly looked down at the mess she had made, her face a mask of feigned innocence. “You’ve got no idea how much you underestimate me, I'm not that stupid”

“Get the hell out of my room, now!”