ABSOLUTE INSANITY: A forbidden bond-Chapter 142: God forbid but I was still jealous of how beautiful she looked.

Chapter 142: God forbid but I was still jealous of how beautiful she looked.
Chapter 142
KATYA POV
I didn’t remember leaving Nonna’s room.
I didn’t remember the hallway, or the stairs, or the sound of the maids still rushing around.
All I remembered was the name.
Marina.
It echoed in my head like someone had whispered it directly into my bones.
I wasn’t bothered.
I wasn’t bothered.
I repeated it as I stepped out of Nonna’s room.
I wasn’t bothered.
I wasn’t...wasn’t... anything.
Romeo liking someone was normal. Logical. Expected.
So why did my pulse jump every time I heard footsteps on the stairs?
Why did I keep imagining her—Marina—walking through the halls like she already belonged here?
When I didn’t? By the time I reached the end of the hallway, my steps had slowed, my fingers curled into my palms without me noticing.
Romeo... liked someone.
And that someone was her. My feet moved before my brain could keep up, carrying me down the corridor with no direction in mind.
I wasn’t going anywhere specific. I just needed... space. Air. A place where the walls didn’t feel like they were closing in.
The farther I walked, the quieter the house became. The bustle from the maids faded. The voices softened. Just the soft thud of my steps echoing off marble floors.
I rubbed my thumb against my palm, trying to steady the jittery feeling in my chest.
I wasn’t bothered.
I wasn’t.
I just needed a second.
Maybe two.
I turned a corner, focused on the floor, not really seeing anything—until someone rounded the hall from the opposite side at the exact same moment.
We collided.
Hard enough that I stumbled backward a step, sucking in a quick breath.
"Oh, for—watch where you’re going!" a voice snapped sharply. My head jerked up.
Marina.
She stood in front of me, phone in one hand, the other pressed to her perfectly pressed blouse where I’d bumped her.
Her expression twisted with annoyance, nothing like the warm, poised girl she’d been in front of nonna and I that day in the elevator.
This version looked more real. Sharper. Colder. Unfiltered.
Her eyes flicked over me once—a quick sweep that felt like being graded and already failing.
"You have eyes, don’t you?" she added, slipping her phone back into her hand, tapping the screen like I was an annoying notification she needed to swipe away.
"I—sorry," I managed, voice small, uneven.
"Sorry doesn’t fix you almost ruining my day," she muttered, brushing a nonexistent speck off her sleeve.
"Honestly... do people here not know how to look up when walking?" She wasn’t shouting. She wasn’t dramatic.
She didn’t need to be.
Her annoyance was calm. Controlled. Polished with just enough venom to sting without leaving a mark.
The kind of rudeness only someone confident in their place could pull off. I swallowed, forcing my voice steady. " I really sorry."
Marina rolled her eyes like my apology was an inconvenience she had to acknowledge. She didn’t move aside.
Didn’t even angle her body to let me pass.
Just stood there, directly in the middle of the hallway... like she owned it.
Behind her were two maids still carrying her bags—large designer luggage, gleaming metal clasps, boxes stacked on top.
And of course, Gina was among them.
Her smirk was subtle, but I felt it like a slap. Perfect. Just perfect.
"I said I’m sorry," I repeated more quietly, trying to step to the side.
Marina shifted at the same time, blocking me without even looking up from her phone.
"Oh, relax," she said, still scrolling. "You don’t have to look like you’re about to cry. It was just a bump."
Her tone pretended to be casual... but the slight curl of her lip wasn’t.
"I’m not— I wasn’t—" I tried, but my voice came out too thin. Her eyes flicked up again, slow and assessing.
Up. Down. Done. Then she smiled.
Not the sweet smile she’d used in Romeo’s office, when her father and her where trying to get an arranged marriage—which worked.
This one was sharper. Pretty on the outside. Poison underneath.
"Oh," she said suddenly, tilting her head as if she’d just recognized a background character in her favorite movie. "You’re the... helper girl, yes?"
My stomach dropped. Her wording wasn’t even wrong. But the way she said it—light, careless, dismissive—made me feel like a smudge she was trying not to step on.
"Yes," I said quietly.
"Mhm." She nodded once, like she wasn’t actually listening.
One of the bags slipped a bit from the maid’s grip. Gina shot me a glare, as if I somehow caused it.
"I don’t really care what you do," Marina added, still looking at her nails now. "Just try not to run into people. And." She paused, turning to fd me full.
"Don’t let me see you near my husband." My throat tightened, heat crawling up my neck. I wanted to move, disappear, anything—just not stand here under her perfect, dismissive gaze.
What the fuck does she mean husband. Had they done the wedding? Why is she even telling me this when I don’t even give a fuck about Romeo.
I solely wish to never see that demon ever again. "Um... can I pass?" I finally asked, barely above a whisper. She blinked at me.
Then, with exaggerated slowness, she stepped one single inch to the side. "Of course," she said, smiling sweetly. "I’m not stopping you." Except she had been.
Obviously. I murmured a soft "thank you," even though it tasted bitter leaving my mouth, and tried to slip past.
First Adelasia now this? Why was all these powerful female hating on me?
As I did, I felt her eyes on me—on my not so perfect body, on my messy hair, on the way I kept my hands close to myself like I was trying not to take up space.
Her perfume drifted in the air, expensive, floral, warm. Everything about her felt intentional.
Effortless.Perfect. Powerful. Everything I wasn’t.
Just as I passed her, she leaned slightly toward Gina and whispered. Not quietly enough. "Some girls really don’t know where they belong."
Gina snorted under her breath. They become friends now? My steps froze. But I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t.
If I did, I wasn’t sure whether I’d break, or cry, or snap back—and none of those options were safe.
Not here. Not with her. So I kept walking.
One step. Then another.
Each one heavier than the last. Even though it shouldn’t have mattered. Even though I told myself over and over again that I wasn’t bothered.
My chest still felt tight.
And God forbid but I was still jealous of how beautiful she looked.