Conditions

Conditions


Queenie's heart hammered against her chest as she heard Sasha's outburst, the sound of her own pulse so loud in her ears she was surprised no one else could hear it. Yes she shouldn't be bothered because the marriage is just a contract marriage but she couldn't help how she was feeling. The words hit her like physical blows, each syllable designed to make her feel small, unwanted, like an intruder in a world where she didn't belong. Her hands trembled slightly at her sides, and she had to consciously force herself to keep breathing steadily.

Jamal chuckled slowly as he walked up to his mother, his footsteps deliberate and measured against the marble floor. There was something dangerous in that laugh, something that spoke of years of unresolved tension and old wounds that had never properly healed.

"Mother, do you realize what you're saying," he asked, his voice deceptively calm but with an undercurrent of steel that anyone who knew him well would recognize as a warning sign.

"You heard me right Jamal, you can't just go and pick up a random girl from the street and marry her, that's not how marriage works," Sasha snapped, her voice sharp with the kind of authority she'd wielded for decades in business and social circles. Her posture was rigid, every inch of her screaming disapproval and aristocratic disdain.

"Who told you I picked her from the street," Jamal asked, his eyebrows raising slightly as he studied his mother's face, searching for the source of her assumptions and prejudices.

Sasha smiled softly, but there was nothing warm or motherly about the expression. It was the kind of smile a predator might wear before moving in for the kill. "If I can remember correctly Jamal you were very much single for some years now so how come you suddenly have a girl and got married," she asked, her tone suggesting she already knew the answer and didn't like it.

"I never thought you knew so much about my daily life or you were concerned about me," Jamal said with a low smirk, the kind of expression that suggested he was enjoying this verbal sparring match far more than he should have been.

"How can't I know about you, I'm your mother," Sasha snapped, but there was something defensive in her tone now, as if his words had hit closer to home than she was comfortable with.

"Mother you say, who the hell gave you the impression that you're my mother, where was my mother when I needed her the most," Jamal asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that seemed to fill the entire foyer with tension. The question hung in the air like a sword waiting to fall, bringing with it years of pain and abandonment that had clearly never been addressed.

Queenie stood by as she watched the mother and son argue, feeling like an unwilling observer to a private war that had been raging long before she'd entered the picture. The hostility between them was palpable, crackling in the air like electricity, and she could see the pain beneath Jamal's anger, the hurt that he was trying so hard to hide behind his cold facade.

Sasha sighed, and for just a moment, her carefully constructed mask slipped, revealing something that might have been regret or sorrow. "Don't tell me you're still angry about what happened," she asked, her voice softer now, almost pleading.

"You know let's end this conversation here, I'm married to Queenie and that's it. So the earlier the better you accept her, the better for you," Jamal replied, his voice final and absolute, like a judge delivering a verdict that couldn't be appealed.

"You want me to accept her," Sasha asked, turning to look at Queenie before she chuckled, the sound hollow and bitter as her eyes raked over the younger woman from head to toe, cataloging every perceived flaw and inadequacy.

"Then I need to see her family know her background and everything about her, you can't just pick up a girl from nowhere," Sasha said, her voice taking on the tone of someone who was used to conducting thorough background checks on anyone who entered her family's sphere of influence.

"Her family is something you shouldn't know about, it's not important," Jamal replied, but there was something in his voice now, a tension that hadn't been there before, as if this was territory he didn't want his mother to explore.

Sasha looked at him with growing suspicion and alarm. "What are you saying," she demanded, her voice rising with each word.

"Are you trying to tell me you don't know the family background of the girl you married. How could you do such a thing," Sasha snapped, her voice filled with the kind of horror that suggested this was the most irresponsible thing she could imagine.

"Queenie Vale, that's my full name," Queenie said quietly, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife through butter. She'd been silent through most of this confrontation, but something in Sasha's tone, some note of genuine concern beneath the arrogance, made her want to speak up for herself.

Jamal turned to look at her, and there was something in his expression - surprise, maybe, or concern, as if he hadn't expected her to volunteer this information.

Sasha turned to look at Queenie, and suddenly all the color drained from her face. She took a slow and steady step up to her, moving like someone who had just seen a ghost and wasn't sure if it was real.

"Queenie Vale," she muttered just to be sure, her voice barely above a whisper, as if saying the name too loudly might make something terrible happen.

"Is your father Edward Vale," she asked, her voice tight with an emotion that Queenie couldn't quite identify but that made her stomach clench with apprehension.

"Mother what's with the interrogation," Jamal snapped, but there was something different in his tone now, something that suggested he knew exactly why his mother was asking these questions and didn't like where this was heading.

"Yes that's my father's name," Queenie replied, her voice steady despite the growing sense that she'd just stepped into a minefield without realizing it.

Sasha turned to look at Jamal with anger visible in her eyes, but it was a different kind of anger now - not the aristocratic disdain she'd shown before, but something deeper, more personal, more dangerous.

"Jamal how could you," she snapped angrily, her voice filled with what sounded like betrayal and disbelief.

Jamal looked away, his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles in his face stood out in sharp relief. "I did nothing wrong," he said, but his voice lacked the conviction it had held earlier.

"You did nothing wrong, is that really what you're saying? For goodness sake have you..." Sasha started, her voice rising to near-hysterical levels.

"Enough mother," Jamal snapped, cutting her off before she could finish whatever accusation she was about to make. His voice was sharp enough to cut glass, and the single word seemed to echo through the foyer like a gunshot.

"I don't care what you say, I'm married to her already," he replied, his voice carrying the finality of someone who had made his decision and wouldn't be swayed by arguments or threats.

Sasha chuckled as looked at Jamal, but it was a sound completely devoid of humor, filled instead with something that might have been pity or contempt or a mixture of both.

"You want me to accept her right," she said, her voice taking on a tone that suggested she was about to play a card she'd been holding in reserve.

"Then I have a condition," she said, her smile sharp as a blade as she watched her son's face for his reaction.

"I don't need your conditions mother," Jamal replied, but there was something in his voice now, a note of wariness that suggested he knew his mother well enough to be concerned about whatever she was planning.

"It's simple. She'll live with me for a month," Sasha declared, her words dropping into the silence like stones into still water, creating ripples of shock and apprehension that spread through the room.