The Absence of Compassion

It was a brilliant, sun-drenched day. The air outside was warm, yet carried a refreshingly cool breeze that promised the changing of the season. Airlia stood momentarily in the doorway of her mother's small shop, having just arrived. She lingered there, allowing her eyes to sweep over the peaceful scenery—a stark contrast to the turbulence inside her head.

Her mind drifted, carried away by the painful memories of the past few years. All she truly desired was a semblance of peace, yet the ceaseless scheming of others made it feel like an impossible luxury. Only a year ago, she had been at the peak of her dreams—a celebrated actress known for her incredible skill. That life shattered after the devastating betrayal of her fiancé and the relentless campaigns waged by those with dark intentions.

She still couldn't pinpoint the exact root of the hatred leveled against her. Was it merely the feud with her ex-fiancé, or perhaps the subsequent distant marriage to Chauncey? Whatever the cause, her reputation had been brutally decimated. Tentatively, she placed a hand on the gentle swell of her belly, a private sanctuary in the chaos, and prayed that the world’s cruelty wouldn't extend its reach to her unborn child.

She lifted her face to the sky, breathing in the cool air, believing that such quiet moments could anchor her mood. After a final moment of reflection, she went inside the shop. Her priority was arranging and packing a few necessary items to take back home, as her due date was quickly approaching and she needed genuine rest.

She paused by the shelf, hesitating only for a second, before deliberately reaching for a small bottle of a favorite herbal tonic, slipping it into her bag.

"Airlia."

The sound of her name, spoken in that familiar, saccharine-laced voice, froze her mid-motion. She didn't need to turn; she knew exactly who stood behind her. After a long, charged silence, during which their eyes locked in mutual resentment, Airlia finally broke the tension.

"What are you doing here, Lucetta?" she asked, her tone devoid of warmth.

Lucetta let out a dismissive snort, sashaying further into the shop. "Am I no longer welcome in your presence? Or are you actively trying to avoid me now that I've graced you with an unexpected visit?"

A bitter, weary smile touched Airlia's lips. "As you wish. At least I don't feel the need to hide from anything I'm not responsible for." Her gaze hardened. "If you are here to orchestrate another frame-up, feel free to start at any time. Your brain, after all, seems permanently wired for schemes."

At the sound of the accusation, Lucetta's eyes darkened with genuine offense. "Shut up, Airlia! What nonsensical rot are you spouting? How am I the one who framed you? Think before you speak! I am your friend. We have a long history. How could I possibly slander you?"

"Really?" Airlia countered, a harsh laugh escaping her. "So, you expect me to believe that everything that's happened was 'all a coincidence'? I don't believe in such convenient coincidences, Lucetta. You know only how to slander. I know you have help, but you are just blinding yourself with jealousy, and I don't know why others follow suit. You play the innocent victim so well that people pity you, while I'm left to bear the world's hatred. Are you really going to stand there and deny you're trying to frame me?"

Lucetta’s face twisted, her eyes becoming cold, sharp points of pure resentment. She abandoned the pretense of friendship for the joy of cruelty.

"Airlia, I pity you," she sneered, her eyes raking over Airlia’s prominent baby bump. "Look at yourself. Even the father of your child doesn't acknowledge you. Is he not supposed to be taking care of you now? What has Chauncey actually done for you? He knows you're the talk of the town."

She leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a malicious whisper. "Do you know what everyone is saying? They say you seduced Chauncey and got pregnant just to trap him into marriage and responsibility—because not everyone knows you're already married. That secret you guarded so tightly for your 'career'? It just gave me the perfect opening to destroy that pathetic dream of yours. And I'm so glad I did! You don't know how much fun I had when they cursed you in the street." She laughed, a high, mocking sound, clearly enjoying the anger that made Airlia bite her lip.

"You're wrong," Lucetta continued, pointing a long, accusing finger at the baby bump. "Chauncey barely knows you’re pregnant with his child. When was the last time he even came to see you? Tell me! I’m waiting for the little arrival."

Her voice turned sickly sweet. "And mark my words, by the time he or she is born and realizes they have no present father, I'm quite sure your own child will hate you for your 'wild behaviors.'" Lucetta threw her head back and laughed uncontrollably, satisfied that she had inflicted maximum pain.

A chilling thought broke through Airlia's anger: What does my unborn child have to do with this wicked woman's problems? The venom directed at her baby was the final, unforgivable insult.

In a swift, blinding flash of rage, Airlia grabbed the cup of cooling coffee from the nearby counter and flung the contents directly onto Lucetta's pristine gown. "Nonsense!" she roared, the word a furious expulsion of breath.

Lucetta shrieked, staring down at the dark, spreading stain. "Airlia! What the hell is this?! Do you know how much this gown cost?" she screamed, her face contorted in anger.

Airlia eyed her, breathing heavily. "It suits you right. You deserved it! You should be grateful I only ruined your dress and not your despicable life. How dare you bring my child into this? She is innocent and doesn't know any of the problems caused by people like you! So watch your mouth!"

Lucetta curled her lip in a dangerous sneer. "Listen here! You will get me a brand new dress, exactly like this one you ruined, or I won't let you off the hook easily!"

Airlia was beyond fed up. She was simply done. "Are you done?" she yelled, pointing a rigid finger toward the door. "Now get out! Get out of my sight! Take your stinking self out of here!"