Chapter 15 Why Jamal

As we drove, the silence between us grew thicker. I couldn't shake off the feeling that Jamal was hiding something from me. The kiss, the mysterious danger, the secrets... it all swirled in my mind like a vortex.

"Jamal, please," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me what's going on. What's happening to my family?"

Jamal's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles white. "I'll tell you everything, Kim. I promise. But not yet. We need to get to your family's place first."

I sighed, frustration and fear warring within me. But I knew I had to trust Jamal, at least for now.

As we drove deeper into the countryside, the landscape shifted from urban sprawl to rolling hills and dense forests. The GPS led us down winding roads, farther and farther away from civilization.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my unease growing.

Jamal's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, his expression grim. "Somewhere safe," he said. "Somewhere your family can be protected."

The silence between us stretched out, punctuated only by the soulful melodies flowing from the car's stereo. Jamal's choice of music seemed incongruous with the tension between us, but it also felt strangely comforting.

As we drove, my mind wandered back to my family's predicament. How could humiliating me possibly save them? I couldn't fathom the connection. And yet, Jamal seemed so convinced.

But then, a painful realization dawned on me. My family's obsession with reputation and appearances might be the key. They valued social standing above all else, often prioritizing it over our happiness. Would they really be willing to sacrifice me to save face?

The thought stung, and I felt a familiar ache in my heart. I had always known that my family's priorities were skewed, but this was a harsh reminder.

Jamal's eyes flicked towards me, as if sensing my distress. But he said nothing, simply letting the music fill the space between us.

Two years ago, Ashley had taken her first steps into modeling, landing a coveted spot with an agency willing to train her for free. Her beauty had opened doors, but our father's disapproval slammed them shut.

When Dad found out, he grounded Ashley for a week, forbidding her from returning to the agency. "Quit modeling altogether," he demanded.

His reasoning was rooted in pride and tradition. "Ingram's daughter taking half-naked pictures? No way!" he'd exclaim, as if the very idea tarnished our family's reputation.

Ashley's passion was suffocated by Dad's strict rules, and I remembered the tears she shed, the arguments they had. Our father's expectations often prioritized appearances over happiness.

Now, as Jamal's car ate up the miles, I wondered: Would Dad's obsession with reputation seal our fate?

That day, I dreaded my father's reaction to Jamal's secret. How would he respond to the revelation? Would his disapproval know no bounds?

Sometimes, I fantasized about being born into a different family – one like Keith's, where love and acceptance flowed freely. No harsh judgments, no crushing expectations.

My father's criticism had become a constant in my life. Every choice I made, every path I took, was met with disdain. "What a shame, an Ingram working as an editor! Just a puppet on strings," he'd say, his words dripping with disappointment.

His words stung, making me question my own worth. Why couldn't he see the value in my work? Why couldn't he support me, just once?

The memory of his disapproval still lingered, a fresh wound. And now, with Jamal's secret hanging in the balance, I feared the worst.