twist her life into this mess

As Anya emerged from the lawyer's office, she could feel the weight of the world upon her shoulders. She wanted to be strong, wanted to hold herself together, but the dam inside her chest was cracking and about to give way. Her vision began to blur with teardrops that threatened to spill. The noisy hustle and bustle of the city around her sounded muffled, as if she moved through a haze.

Her shaking hands fumbled for her phone. She didn't even think about it, dialing the only person she could trust at this moment, who was her best friend, Flora. 

Flora picked up on the second ring, her voice warm and familiar. "Anya? Hey, what's up? Are you okay?" 

The moment she heard Flora's voice, the tears Anya had been holding back started to spill. "Flora," she choked out, "I... I need you."

"Anya, where are you?" Flora demanded, her voice tight with anxiety. "What's going on? Are you safe?"

"I'm all right, but. I just can't do this on my own," Anya mumbled through her sobs.

"Come to my place," Flora said resolutely, not giving Anya room to say no. "Whatever is happening, we'll figure it out together. Just get here, okay?"

Anya nodded, though Flora couldn't see her. "Okay," she whispered.

Before going to Flora's, Anya quickly made a call to the NGO. She did not want them to worry or that she was leaving. She clarified that she will be spending the night in a friend's place and coming back in the morning. The reassuring words of the organizer made her feel a bit better, though the knot in her chest remained.

When Anya arrived at Flora's apartment, the door swung open almost immediately. Flora stood there, her face a mixture of concern and relief. Without a word, she pulled Anya into a tight hug 

"It's okay," Flora whispered, rubbing her back gently. "You're here now. You're safe."

The warmth of Flora's embrace was a bit too much for Anya. All her earlier attempts to check the flow of tears failed miserably as she hugged Flora like a lifeline. The tiny frame of the girl could shake at her sobs.

Flora took her inside and shut the door. She led Anya to the couch and sat beside her, never letting go of her hand. "Take your time," she said softly.

Anya tried to speak but found that words could not form themselves. She wept as she gasped, the hurt from everything, Elliot's betrayal, the lawyer's news, and her situation's burden, all erupting at once.

Flora did not hurry her. She sat there holding Anya's hand and letting her cry. It felt like a century, and then Anya's wails began to settle. She blew at her puffing eyes and breathed unsteadily.

"I am sorry," Anya mumbled, barely audibly.

"Don't you even dare apologize," Flora said firmly. "You've gone through so much, Anya. Let it all out. You don't have to be carrying this inside your head."

Anya nodded slowly, her throat constricting painfully. She realized just how desperately she needed to let it out, how desperate she was to have someone actually there for her.

She went up briefly and returned with a glass of water. "Here," she said, handing it over to Anya.

"Thanks," Anya murmured, taking a sip.

Flora sat back down in the chair, a serious look in her eyes. "Now, come on. Tell me everything. What happened?"

Anya's fingers curled over the glass as if for safety. But seeing the kindness, the patience etched into Flora's face, made her find that tiny spark of courage. She was no longer facing this in the dark of her room by herself.

So she began talking....

Flora had listened silently to Anya as she poured out her heart, saying words tumbling out between all the sobs and shaky breaths. Anya spoke of betrayal, shattered dreams, and the suffocating pain of knowing her parents trusted Elliot completely. Through it all, Flora's heart ached for her friend.

When Anya finally fell silent, staring at the half-full glass of water without a word, Flora found it very difficult to find the right words. She wanted to tell Anya about how cruel the world was and how it's sometimes unfair, but she also wanted her to understand, to make her see that in darkness, there is always light.

"You know, Anya," Flora began softly, "life has a way of testing us. It throws us into the fire, not to burn us but to forge us into something stronger. You're going through hell right now, but this isn't the end. You're going to rise from it,I know you are."

An unshed tear fell down Anya's cheek. "It doesn't feel like that, Flora. It feels like. like I'm drowning, and I don't know how to swim my way out."

Flora reached out and grasped Anya's hands tightly. "That's what I'm here for. You're not alone in this, okay? We'll figure it out together.

Despite her best intentions, Flora felt anger boiling beneath her calm exterior. Elliot. That man had torn Anya's, her best friend's, apart and left her to pick up the pieces. He didn't deserve to get away with that, not when Flora was a trained martial artist who could easily share her anger.

She didn't say a word to Anya yet, but inside, she made a silent vow: Elliot would answer for what he'd done.

Meanwhile, Elliot rested in his fat office chair. He lounged back and pressed his lower lips together. Not a word came from Anya's direction the whole day to create scenes with dramatic situations; he inhaled smoke through a cigarette between two fingers.

His phone buzzed, snapping him out of his reverie. It was Harris, his lawyer and partner in crafting the web that now ensnared Anya. 

"Elliot," Harris greeted smoothly, "just thought I'd check in. Any word from Anya yet?"

"She'll come to us," Elliot said confidently. "She doesn't have many choices. When she does, I want the new contract ready. It's got to be airtight, no loopholes, no mention of the old terms. She's too naive to dig deeper, but just in case, we can't risk her finding out."

Harris chuckled lightly on the other end. "Consider it done. She'll have no choice but to play by your rules."

Satisfied, Elliot ended the call and placed the phone on his desk. He took another drag of his cigarette, blowing out a cloud of smoke with practiced ease. Just as he began to relax, his phone buzzed again.

It was just another text. He knew the number right away. She.

Curiously, he opened the message. His eyes narrowed into his head as he stared at the picture she'd sent with her hand across the slight curve of a noticeable baby bump.

Elliot's jaw muscles tensed as he wiped away his smirk, flexing his hand until it closed into a fist. The paper on his desk tore underneath his wrath. As he hit the call button, the woman answered nearly immediately.

"What are you thinking?" Elliot barked at her, low and deadly. "Why would you send me this? Are you trying to lose everything?

"I thought you'd want to know," she replied softly, her voice carrying a hint of defiance. 

"Well, you thought wrong," Elliot snapped. "Delete that picture, and don't you dare send me anything like it again. Do you understand me?" 

She hesitated for a moment, but then she spoke, her tone shaking slightly. "Elliot, I thought..."

"You thought what?" he interrupted coldly. "That you could play games with me? Don't forget who I am. I can be worse than bad if you push me. Obey me, or you'll regret it."

The line went silent for a moment before she whispered, "Fine."

He slammed the phone onto the desk and sat back in his chair, his anger welling up as he thought of everything. Things were getting messier than he had planned, and he needed no complications. But one thing was for sure: no one was going to get in his way... not any woman, and especially not a unborn child.