The Unwanted Mate

IT DOESN'T FEEL RIGHT, but it's all I want at the moment. This is how I wake up every day feeling about my relationship with Abel Harper. We have grown up together before our families split apart. However, we haven't ever accepted the current dispute or wanted it to get between us. But, today I will change this particular line of thinking and end everything that has been going on secretly for five months. Fingers crossed.

Changing my morning routine today has turned into an epic fail. How can I modify it? When Harper's restaurant is where I feel my true self and reminisce about my childhood. I've grown up playing hide and seek with Abel at this place, and here I have gotten my first kiss from Abel. It is where the Conners and Harpers used to party together. It is everything.

So, like every morning during my school year, I walked out of home an hour earlier than school starting time to have breakfast with Abel at Harper's five-star restaurant, which it's where Abel works as a regional manager.

Abel's great-grandfather Richard Harper built Harper's restaurant as a gift for his wife after receiving her pregnancy news after a long wait, which gives the place a strong sense of old times, love, and hope.

Jeremy Harper —Abel's father — is a wealthy businessman who possesses a chain of restaurants along with other large businesses and brands around the globe. Although this may sound like a fortunate ordinary girl who has joined the royal family, wealth counts as one of the problems that threaten my relationship with Abel. And definitely, the one who has made that wealth from A to Z is the major one.

As I am taking a mouthful of thick pancake, Abel is stiff at our chaotic table and gazing at the restaurant's financial documents and income reports. I watch him taking sticky notes off for the chefs and co-workers while running his long fingers through his thick blond hair to set it back and stop some tresses from slipping over his forehead. Then he slides his hand over his angular jawline ― my favorite area to bite. His face gives me chills and makes it impossible to look away.

Abel has a sculpted chest, a patchy beard, and bushy eyebrows that are cleaned regularly by a tweezer. When my eyes glimpse him, I always notice first his necklace ― a gold tapered cross pendant with a gold chain, and the tiny scar on his lower lip.

He always looks very spruce. Abel wears formal attire most of the time because he shifts from one meeting to another. He wears tailor-made business suits, skinny ties, and white shirts, but he still knows how to dress fashionably for casuals.

"Abel, can we talk for a second?" I hesitantly ask in a low voice.

"Yes, sure. But give me a minute." He replies without lifting his head.

I don't know if I'm making the right decision because I can't concentrate on anything other than him when he's across from me. But, all the threatening messages I've received today predetermine my second move. Otherwise, our intimate pictures and other documents related to our secretive marriage will be spread in newspapers and magazines. I am STUCK.

He blinks less and ignores my existence more when he checks on the revenues. It's becoming frustrating to be surrounded by silence, pancakes, and a tremendous amount of dispersed papers. There's no offense to the pancakes, I just dislike having a sweet breakfast in the morning. Nevertheless, I overlook my preferences sometimes for breakfast only to have the same meal as Abel. Thus, I felt like having the same things he has. Who knows? It may be the last time.

"I think we should start to meet somewhere else from the Harper's" I break the silence with an unusual suggestion that makes Abel stare surprisingly at me for a moment.

"You've always loved this place, Sabrina. Now you want to change it?" He raises his eyebrows, takes off his Gucci square-shaped glasses, and finally gives me his face that has been concealed behind the papers he's holding.

"I may not want to change the place, but I want to change our morning routine, especially the working section." I give him a goofy smile wishing he understands.

"What do you mean?" He gets it, but he disagrees.

"I want us to talk. I mean, you have the rest of the day to work and check all these papers. I feel like I am having breakfast alone." I sigh.

I can tell myself what he is about to say without making any mistakes. "I can't delay the work I do because at six o'clock we usually set the place up, check on the machines, supervise the storage and the quantity of food, and review the revenues before opening. This morning's work is crucial and unchangeable." He hasn't thought for a minute since I've been complaining about this for so long.

He reaches for my hands and warmly looks with his deep electric blue eyes that haven't failed at defeating me. "I don't ever intend to make you upset. Having you around in the morning boosts my energy for the rest of the day. I appreciate that you come every day. Know that."

I should mention getting a divorce now, but my heart wails over it. Before this moment, I've always thought people end their marriages because of definite reasons, but sometimes they do it out of infinite love.

I don't dare to leave my seat to another woman because she would be everything suitable for a man like Abel. She would be his age, rich, tall, sexy, and have more experience than me. He doesn't deserve someone who is a nineteen years old adolescent, completely broke and inexperienced like me. Rather he is too eligible for someone who has an independent lifestyle and has a better-looking vagina.

Before I can reply, an employee has interrupted us ― which is something I am grateful for, so Abel goes to the kitchen.

This place is classier than the Royal Opera House. They apply Art Nouveau architectural style, which gives Italian and Parisian vibes like you are at BeefBar Restaurant. Everything looks aesthetically romantic, from the glass roofing panels and luxurious chandeliers to all the frescoes and asymmetrical forms on the walls. It embarrasses me to walk in this romance-inspiring place while wearing a school uniform when everyone is dressing in soiree dresses, expensive perfumes, and ornamented with jewels.

I waited for him for five minutes and headed to the bathroom to adjust my school uniform. The bathroom has a gilded carving and maroon paint. It also has The Kiss Artwork on the wall. The peacefulness in this place makes me want to have my breakfast here instead of outside. Here people are in their realities. They are just ordinary. No one is trying to show off with something but cover behind the stall doors.

My least favorite piece of cloth in my uniform is my boring yellow tie. Everyone at school and Abel, of course, mock my tying process, which they describe as clumsy. While fixing my white-sleeved shirt and navy-blue skirt, I receive a phone call from my best friend, Alyssa.

“You asshole," I smirk as I pick up.

"I am sorry, Brina; I just saw your text. I think I am still suffering from last night's hangover." She nags in her morning deep voice. "Was that real?"

"Did you do it, Alyssa?" I ask while knowing she did not.

"Why would I do that? You are like my sister." She starts with a high-pitched voice and then ends with a long sigh.

We've paused for a second to think. "Who would have known that you are in a relationship with Abel?" She adds.

"I don't know. Were you drunk around someone that may do it?" I ask in a brittle voice.

"We don't have mutual friends except for the girls and Tommy. And of course, I did not tell them" She explains.

"I see. The end of me is near. My dad will know about me and Abel at any minute." My voice shakes. I am sitting on the toilet seat, thinking about all the terrible consequences.

"I want you to know you are not alone. If Abel is coward enough to face your family, I am here. We will figure everything out" She reassures me carefully, and we hang up.

My phone buzzes right after with a picture that is hard to ignore. All of a sudden, the marble floor becomes blurry and everything else. The phone screen turns slippery and wet because of my teardrops. It is my blackmailer again, showing me the betrayal of the closest human to me.

Is this him? I can see his electric blue eyes and his jawline. It's the same gold cross necklace he has and his chiseled chest. It is Abel, but who is the woman next to him? Her eyes are cropped from the photo. And I can't stop cursing over that.

She has tanned skin, black curls, and a horizontal Hebrew tattoo on her right shoulder. Her heavy lower lips and pointed chin are unfortunately seductive. The maroon matte lipstick that she wears is the only thing she wears. They are naked and laughing on a messy bed. His big hand is on her small body – her shoulder specifically. Grabbing her and giggling with her as he does with me. I think I have been knowing someone else all my entire life.

Moving is like twitching your heavy legs from a muddy dune. I hardly go back to the hall to get my backpack and leave. Abel is back in his seat. He takes his optical eyewear off and smiles at me as I walk closer back to the table. Feeling stone-cold and gone as if I am on drugs. I cannot recognize the waiters' faces that I know very well. And even Abel's features, I don't think I know them or anything about him anymore.

The noises around are a mixture of customers' chitchats, plates being served, jazz music, engines of motorbikes, car horns, and Abel's calls from behind asking me what is wrong. Now, he is asking me to wait. I can't turn around or even meet his eyes.

The distance between me and the exit door seems like it's expanding. It never ends, as if I am walking on a treadmill. The short moments of happy times lock me in the long moments of terrible times. This unbearable moment is like a punishment for believing in the good in life that may be given to me. I think it's my fault that I've looked at life from rose-colored glasses.

As I am finally outside, Abel's voice behind me is diminishing until it disappears. For the first time, I changed my morning routine; I left the place without looking back.