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CHAPTER EIGHT
Last Updated:
2025-12-16 19:41:41
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HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
I walk briskly toward the library, my boots clicking a steady beat against the pavement. The morning air is crisp, biting at my cheeks, but I barely feel the chill. My mind is a whirlwind of rehearsals and "what-ifs." Despite my early morning detour for cake and milkshakes, I am still running thirty minutes ahead of my resumption time. I’ve always been like this but today It gives me too much room to think about how exactly I am going to tell Miss Karen that I am leaving.Miss Karen is an enigma wrapped in a stern, woolen blazer. She hasn’t been at the library for two weeks; the word around is that she went to take care of her grandson. Apparently, her son’s child needed her, She is supposed to be back today, and I know she’ll expect the library to be in super clean“Good morning, Miss Karen,” I whisper to the empty street, practicing my pitch. “How was your trip back? I hope everything is well with your grandson. I wanted to talk to you about something important...”I shake my head.
HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE CHAPTER TWENTY
The weight of my reality follows me to my sleep In these dreams, I am always running toward a door that remains just out of reach, my pockets empty and my breath coming in ragged gasps. When I finally jerk awake, it isn’t the gentle touch of the sun that rouses me, but the cold, sharp clarity of my own desperation. I sit up in bed, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, the silence of the house feeling heavyOne thing is undeniable: I need a change. My current existence isnt living, My mother’s recovery is a blessing, a miracle I'm grateful for every hour, but I am haunted by the reality of her condition. The doctors mentioned follow-up surgeries, physical therapy, and a regimen of medications that cost more than my monthly rent. Every cent of this month's salary is already spoken for before it even hits my palm. It is from rent, electricity, the water bill, the grocery list that I keep trimming down until there’s nothing left but the essentials. By the time the bills
HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE CHAPTER NINETEEN
The steam from the stovetop rises in thick, humid clouds, blurring the edges of the kitchen. I move mechanically, my hands shaking just enough to make the clatter of the wooden spoon against the pot sound like a frantic heartbeat. I’ve already bathed the twins; they are finally a tangle of limbs and soft breathing in their cribs. Now, it is just me, my mother, and the heavy, unspoken tension vibrating between us.I don’t beat around the bush. . I set a plate of steaming food down in front of her and lean against the counter, crossing my arms.“Mum, what happened today?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel. “And no, don’t give me a filtered version of what happened. I want the full, unfiltered truth. Every second of it.”Mum looks down at her plate, her fingers hovering over the fork. She looks smaller tonight, more fragile, as if the air in the room is pressing down on her shoulders. She takes a shallow breath and finally meets my eyes.“Okay,” she begins softly. “As I was playing wi
HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
After Tabitha leaves the library, I feel empty already. She is off to a date with her favorite godson, the mysterious Cole and I find myself battling a strange pang of jealousy. It isn’t a romantic jealousy, but rather a covetousness of her spirit. You can tell by the way her voice elevates, how her speech sounds more excited whenever she talks about him. He occupies a space in her heart that I am jealous of , sue meI lean back in my chair, staring at the empty chair she leaves behind evrrytime she comes over. Maybe I should invite her over for one of our "book talk" moments. It is being hosted every Sunday after the ladies come back from church.The thought barely forms before I recoil from it. Church. Nope. I don’t do God. I gave up on anything remotely resembling religion a long time ago, buried it in the same shallow grave where I left my optimism. If He was alive, if He was the benevolent architect they all claim Him to be, then why didn't He save my mom when she was dying the
HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I continue to stare blankly at Tabitha, my mind a spiraling thought flow, The air in the library feels different now thicker, charged with a current I haven’t felt in years. I am utterly lost for words, my tongue feeling like a heavy, useless weight in my mouth. The transition from being a librarian to being a potential option in a a position working for Tabitha is so abrupt it feels like a whiplash, even though I don't know what position she has for me yet“I know this must sound shocking,” she says, her voice dropping into a solemn tone that pulls me back from the brink of my panic. She reaches out, her hand resting lightly on the polished wood of the checkout counter. “That is why I didn't know how to say it earlier. It’s why I was acting the way I was when I walked in. I was bracing myself for your reaction, Annabella. I was nervous, believe it or not.”Hearing the word nervous come from a woman like Tabitha is almost as shocking as the job offer itself, to think that I could ma
HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Knowing Tabitha has so far been the best moments in my life. It isn’t just about the coffee she brings or the easy laughter we share between the quiet stacks of the library; she has helped my mindset travel a long way from the dark, stagnant place where I first started. For the first time in years, I don’t wake up feeling like a ghost haunting my own life. I feel like a person again, someone with a voice.The most jarring yet exhilarating part of our friendship is the way she treats my brain. Especially in those moments where she asks for my input about her business decisions, it reminds me of my past. It’s a bittersweet ache; it reminds me of the high-stakes world I used to inhabit, but in a good way. It proves to me that the knowledge is still there, her trust has helped me build my self-confidence a long way, and that is no joke. When you’ve spent a long time believing your worth is zero, having someone treat your opinion like gold is a powerful strengthTake last week, for examp
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