Where Love Doesn’t Live
Aria’s POV
“Come out, you fucking bitch! Give me the money! I’m gonna break this damn door!”
My mother’s voice shook the thin wooden door like a storm.
My heart jumped to my throat, but my body didn’t move. I stayed where I always ended up—on the floor, knees pulled into my chest, hands gripping the door handle so tightly my knuckles turned white.
She was my mother.
But she never treated me like a daughter.
Sometimes I wondered why she even gave birth to me. If she hated me so much… why bring me into a world only to destroy me every single day?
If I hadn’t been born… maybe I wouldn’t have gone through all this shit.
Maybe I wouldn’t be crying on my knees, begging a door to keep her rage out.
God… what wrong have I done in my past life?
“Hey, Aria! Get this to table no. 6!” Karry yelled over the loud music and clinking glasses.
“Yes, Karry!” I called back, grabbing the tray.
This street was always busy—unfortunately not with good people. Mostly drunk men whose bodies swung like broken bamboo sticks, talking nonsense, laughing too loud, and staring too long.
I placed a drink on table 6 when someone behind me whistled.
“Hey babe, wanna see heaven?”
Table 4.
He was ugly. Frizzy hair sticking out like he’d been struck by lightning. Teeth stained from tobacco—his mouth looked like a whole forest of it.
Before I could walk away, Karry stormed toward him.
“Wanna see hell, you scumbag?!” she shouted, ready to punch his skull in.
“Karry, stop! Let’s leave!” I grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “Can you stop? We might get into trouble.”
She huffed, anger boiling in her eyes.
“Look at those fucking assholes! If you wouldn’t stop me, I could’ve played cricket with their balls!”
“Karry, stop. Go back to work.”
“But Aria—”
“Karry! I said go.”
My face was straight, tired.
“Fine.” She stomped back.
Karry could really break someone’s bones if she wanted to. She learned karate just by watching through the stadium gates. Her dad had been a champion… until his friend betrayed him. After losing everything, he drowned himself in alcohol. He stopped caring. He stopped being a father.
Karry never went to school.
And neither did I.
I never knew who my father was.
My mother was the only parent I had—and I hated her as far as I could remember. She hit me every day. She always came home drunk. I don’t even know where she got the money to drink when she never brought food home.
I used to crave food so badly it hurt.
But she never gave me any.
The old grandmother next door used to feed me scraps, leftovers—anything she had. As I grew older, I started working… anywhere. Selling flowers on the road, selling ice cream, working tiny stalls. I didn’t care where—I just wanted to fill my stomach.
When I turned eighteen, I started working here.
Aunty Bathey was kind—strong, in ways the world forced her to be. She knew it was dangerous for girls like us to work in a bar full of drunk men. But it was the only place that paid enough to survive.
Late that night, Aunty Bathey raised her glass.
“Ooh, sweeties! Come on, let’s celebrate!”
She had once married a gambler—a sweet man who loved her deeply. He got killed by his enemies, leaving her alone. She became strong because she had no choice.
She still loved him. Every night she drank and told us stories of him.
Tonight, she leaned heavily on a table, smiling through her tears.
“You know, Aria… one day I prepared all his favorites. I waited the whole evening. He arrived late and stood near the door, waiting for my permission to enter. I could see he was sorry in his eyes.”
Her voice broke.
“I was so angry, so I went to bed. He came quietly, hugged me from behind, kissed my neck, and apologized. And just like that… I couldn’t be mad anymore.”
She laughed weakly.
“I turned, pouted at him, and he held my face gently—said, ‘I’m sorry, baby. I promise I won’t be late again.’ Then he brought me my favorite sweets. Oh, sweet girls… at that moment, I didn’t want anything except him. Oh, my baby… ha… ha… haaaaa…”
She broke down into sobs.
We lifted her up and took her home.
On our way back, Karry kicked a stone angrily.
“Aunty Bathey is stupid. She can just marry someone else.”
“Karry! How can you say that? You know how much she loves her husband.”
“Then why did he leave her alone?” Karry snapped.
“If he loved her so much, he should’ve stopped doing dangerous things.”
“Maybe he had no choice.”
Karry scoffed.
“Stop it, Aria. Love is fake. No one is ever gonna love you till the end of the world.”
Her words hit me harder than I expected.
“Why not? There can be someone who loves you… cares for you. I want someone to care for me. I want someone…”
My voice cracked.
“If I get someone like that, I will love him till the end of the world. And I’ll make you regret your words.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t dream, Aria. You know what we’ve been through. You know our families. Do you still believe that?”
Do I still believe?
Can someone love a girl like me?
Love me as I am?
I reached home, but I couldn’t even call it a home.
My mother was waiting like a demon at the door.
“Where were you, you bitch?” she yelled, grabbing my hair.
“Give me the money. I’m struggling!”
“I… I don’t have any—”
“I SAID GIVE!”
She ripped my bag from my shoulder.
That bag had the money Aunty Bathey gave me… for food.
“No! Mother—”
She slapped me so hard my ears rang.
“Shut up! You bitch!”
She took everything and walked away like I was nothing.
I sat outside, holding my torn bag against my chest.
Maybe Karry was right.
Maybe I should stop dreaming
