MARRIED TO THE CONFUSED BILLIONAIRE

"I wish I had an alternative,” the twenty-one-year-old miserable Rose lamented, and scanned the goods in her scanty country store. Her eyes were wet at once, as they often do each time she thought of her late mother, and her compulsory summer internship which would warrant her to lock her shop for that period.

“How would I sustain myself if I…?”

“Hey! Do you have any flour that is lower in calories?” A shopper, who was in his twenties, requested, and interrupted her thoughts. The repulsive voice jolted her out of her reverie, and she repressed her tears of helplessness, before she gave the shopper a smile. Then, she inquired, “Do you mean unripe plantago flour?”

“Whatever. Do you have it?” The domineering son of the Group Managing Director of the Blue Sea Oil and Gas Group, demanded cursorily. Meanwhile, he did not miss the opportunity to admire the beautiful, but poorly dressed damsel in front of him.

“Unfortunately, I don't have any,” Rose pacified. Before she could complete her sentence, he was out of her store, and walked into his bucket of bolts, and drove away.

“What an arrogant man,” she mumbled. The scanty store was operated by her mother until she passed on two months ago, and the management of the store rested naturally on her. Now, she looked away from the annoying car of the rude buyer, and hissed, “So what, if he is handsome.” Then she walked back to her seat, and faced her books. Likewise, she flipped through the pages to start her assignment. Suddenly, another shopper, Mrs. Sarah Owens, a beautiful woman about fort five years, who looked calm like her late mother, walked in, and called out, “Hello, young lady.”

Now, Rose looked up, and saw a woman who reminded her of her mother, and was startled.

“Good day, ma'am. How may I help you?” she greeted, with a broad smile. Now, she was off her seat, and walked to the door to meet the client. Without responding to her greetings, the desperate Mrs. Owens requested, “I need two bags of unripe plantago flour.” Likewise, she ran her eyes through the mini shop. Now, Rose was despondent, and informed, “I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't have it, and I don't sell it, either.”

At that point, the disappointed buyer gave her a dirty look as though it was an offense not to have what she wanted.

“Why don't you have it?” She asked angrily. Now, Rose was touched, and she asked further, “If I may ask, are you diabetic or something?” Before now, Sarah prepared her stuff by herself, but her mother's impromptu visit caught her unawares, and she resorted to searching for it in a suburb.

“Answer me, and stop asking questions. Do you have it?” She yelled and vented her disappointment, and her mother's ailment, to her. Now, Rose was frightened because she could not believe that her simple question could trigger such a reaction from the educated and a calm looking woman. 

“Ah em no madam, but I can …,” she stammered. Nevertheless, Sarah ignored her, and walked away in dejection. “Have a nice day, ma'am,” she waved at the frustrated woman, who was already far away from her.

“Why is everyone looking for unripe plantago flour today, and what did I do wrong to warrant her anger?” Rose asked herself. Then, she walked back to her seat to continue with her school work, but to her chagrin, she could not concentrate.

“She looks like mom,” she told herself, and stared at the door. “She must be desperately in need of it,” she envisaged, and reminisced about the days when her mother experienced a blood sugar spikes. She would crave any diet that would lower it.

“If only I am aware of how to contact her, I would prepare some for her,” she declared with regrets. Her mother suffered, and died of blood sugar related disease, and she was conversant with how to prepare her meal, which was mostly unripe plantago.

“All the same, I will prepare a quick one tonight and keep for her in case she checks back,” she resolved, and picked up her pen and book. After a few minutes, other buyers walked in, and she attended to them. Meanwhile, she was accustomed to the disturbances that she encountered from buyers during her studies, but she would always scale through. 

At the Residential Area of the Blue Sea Oil and Gas Group

Mrs. Sarah Owens was the wife of the Group Managing Director, Mr. Evans Owens, and the proprietress of the Brainfields Academy. She returned to the Residential Area very dissatisfied. She had searched for her stuff in the RA's mall, but could not get one.

“Mama would make do with what I have,” she resolved after her driver parked, and she walked into her house.

“Good evening, Mrs. Owens,” the janitor greeted.

“Good evening,” she replied without interest, and walked into the kitchen.

“Good evening, Mrs. Owens,” the chef greeted.

“Thank you. I can't find my mother's food. Go ahead and prepare dinner for everyone,” she informed her chef.

“I got it, Mrs. Owens,” the chef responded, and thereafter, she walked to her bedroom. Likewise, she sat on the bed, and pulled her shoes. Then, she heaved, “Oh! What a day,” and rested her back on the bed. Now, she stared at the ornate ceiling, and pondered over all her activities for the day, and the thought of Rose gave her concern.

 “Poor girl. I must have been hard on her,” she pointed out in regret. Now, she could picture the scene at the shop, and the frightened look on her face.

“Oh! Despite my yelling, she was still calm, and cheerful. I will visit her tomorrow, and apologize for my outburst,” she decided, and rested on. Subsequently, her husband walked in, and met her exhausted, and looking worried, then he inquired, “What's up, my dear?”

She tried to get up from the bed to give him a hug, but he stopped her, “You are exhausted,” he indicated, and laid beside her. Likewise, she gave him a faint smile, and greeted, “Welcome back, hubby. How was your day?” At that moment, her husband gave her a searching look, before he responded, “Thank you. My day was fine. And yours?”

“Fine. Have you seen my mother?” Sarah asked. Instantly, her husband's face beamed. Then, he sat up from the bed, and requested, “When did she come?”

“I can't say the time, but I met her at home when I returned from school.”

“Wow! Mother-in-law and her impromptu visits,” he exclaimed.

“You got it. I have looked for her food around, and found none."