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CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Last Updated:
2026-01-01 16:54:24
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HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE TWENTY FIVE
“I seem to have something on my face, for you to be staring at me for this long,” I say, my voice carrying a cheeky lilt that I can’t quite suppress.I know I should probably be more demure. I am, after all, standing in the marble-clad heart of one of the most prestigious estates in the county. The air here smells of beeswax, old money, and a combo of fresh flowers. Most people would be trembling under the weight of the architecture alone, yet here I am, unable to help myself. There is something about the man standing in front of me that begs to be poked.His expression suggests he has never laughed a day in his life or if he did, it was a strictly scheduled event that occurred once in the late nineties. Please, don’t judge me; he just looks like exactly the kind of person I would enjoy teasing into a state of total, stuttering frustration. It is a character flaw, I admit, but a delightful one.Life can’t get much better than watching a man this composed struggle to find a retort. And
HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE TWENTY FOUR
Today feels differentKnowing Tabitha is likely back from church and settling into her Sunday routine, I reach for my phone. My fingers hover over the screen for a second, a brief moment of hesitation before I text her. I let her know I’m officially on my way. I’ve learned that with women like Tabitha, punctuality isn’t just a courtesy; it’s a must.That’s settled. Now, for the less glamorous part of my morning.I sit on the edge of my bed and begin to pump milk for the twins. It’s a quiet ritual, but today it feels heavy with the weight of my ambitions. I still pump the little my body produces, even though it’s never quite enough for both of them anymore. They are growing so fast, their appetites expanding by the day, seemingly fueled by a bottomless hunger. My body feels like it’s struggling to keep up with the demands of motherhood and the demands of my career simultaneously. I bottle the liquid carefully, checking the ounces. It’s not much, but it's from me and it’s for them. Eve
HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
After that whirlwind negotiation on Monday, the library felt strangely hollow, I expected to see Tabitha’s elegant silhouette perched in her usual corner every afternoon, perhaps to offer a knowing wink or a final piece of advice before I transitioned into her high glass world. But she only popped in twice, brief, fleeting visits Before I could even process the weight of my resignation, the week had gone by in a blur of dust, ink and unexpected frustration.I am not going to lie: this has been one of the most mentally taxing and physically draining weeks of my life. Nomally, it should have been the easiest. I finally had an assistant, a successor to hand the torch to so I could focus on my final administrative duties and clear my desk. In theory, I was just supposed to show her the ropes, pass over the keys, and glide gracefully toward the exit.Reality, however, had a much more chaotic story cooking up for meHer name is Susan, and for the first four days, it felt as though she
HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
“I do accept the job offer, but I have some conditions that I would like to negotiate,” I begin. My voice is steady, though my pulse is frantic tap-dance against my ribs. I keep my expression carefully neutral, projecting a seriousness I’m not entirely sure I feel. This is the moment where the power dynamic shifts or at least, where I attempt to steer the ship.Tabitha leans back in her chair, a faint, amused glimmer dancing in her eyes. She doesn't look offended; if anything, she looks invigorated by the challenge. “Okay, shoot,” she says, gesturing with a relaxed, elegant hand. “I’m all ears.”The air in the room feels sud charged with the weight of my impending future. I take a slow, stabilizing breath, trying to ignore the way my heart is pounding in my ears. “I would like to maintain my current schedule,” I say, my tone firm. “I want to close at the same time I close here, unless there is a legitimate, serious emergency that requires me to stay late. My personal time is non-nego
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
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