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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
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2025-12-22 14:14:23
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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
HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Mom! I’m off to work!”I shout the words over my shoulder, my voice competing with the sudden, sharp burst of Junior’s crying that has just erupted from the nursery. I don’t wait for a response, knowing she’s already moving toward him, I’m rushing out of the house, my movements frantic as I juggle my bag, my keys, and a small, chilled box of milk.The milk, well, It’s for me. As much as I crave a double-shot espresso to jumpstart my sluggish nervous system, I’ve had to cut back significantly on the caffeine. I’m still pumping breast milk for the kids, and even though my supply isn't nearly enough to satisfy two growing appetites, I am stubborn about continuing. I’ve set a goal to keep this up until they are at least a year old. In a life where I’m gone for eight to ten hours a day, pumping feels like my only connection with my babies. It’s my way of providing, of being physically present even when I’m miles away, It’s an exhausting bridge between my role as a provider and my identity
HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Chapter 14: The high-pitched wails of Ella's voice pierce through the heavy fog of my exhaustion . They are my new alarm clocks, loud and signaling the start of another day long before the sun has even thought of rising. It is a sound that triggers a physical response in me now, a tightening in my chest, or is it an ache in my arms, and a heavy, mothers or people who have truly loved can relate to thisAt six months old, Ella and Junior have taught me a hard lesson: life as a single mother isn't as rosy, no matter how much your heart overflows with love for them. The glossy magazines' social media feeds talk about the "glow" of motherhood, but they conveniently leave out the crusty milk stains on every shirt, the dark circles that have become a permanent part of my eyes, and the bone-deep fatigue that makes it hard to stay awake while at work. The reality is a grueling pattern of constant hustling from how I juggle the library shifts, the feedings, and the mountain of laundry, and ev
HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE CHAPTER THIRTEEN
One week. That is all it took for the rhythm of the town library to seep into my bones. If you had asked me six months ago where I saw myself, I wouldn’t have pictured a world of mahogany shelves, the hushed whispers of page-turning, and the perpetual scent of vanilla and aging paper. Watching the patrons from wide-eyed primary students clutching adventure novels to elderly men seeking the morning papers gives me a sense of purpose I hadn't realize I was craving. It is a small-town kind of usefulness, but it feels real.I know I might be exaggerating the romance of it all. To some, I am just a girl behind a counter stamping return dates. But to me, I am the gatekeeper of a thousand different worlds.The bell above the heavy oak door chimes, cutting through the morning stillness. I look up, a practiced smile ready on my lips.“Hello, Miss Alex. I… I would like to rent this. To take home, please.”I turn and find Mathilda standing there, looking as if she wants to blend into the biograp
HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE CHAPTER TWELVE
I walk out of the building just in time.My chest is tight, my breaths shallow and uneven, and there’s a sharp ringing in my ears that tells me I am seconds away from a full-blown panic attack. The glass doors slide shut behind me, sealing in everything I’m trying so desperately to escape. Even though it’s the middle of the day and the sun is high above me, my hands are shaking as if night has already fallen.I don’t think. I just reach for my phone.Ella’s number is already memorized by muscle memory, my thumb pressing the call button before my mind can talk me out of it. The phone rings once, twice, three times, and with every second that passes, my heart pounds harder.“Are you free to talk?” I ask the moment she answers, my voice coming out more strained than I intended.“Uhmm… I’m a bit busy right now,” she replies. I can hear movement in the background, voices overlapping. “Is it serious?”I hesitate. I don’t want to burden her if she’s already swamped, but at the same time, I f
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