All Chapters of HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

97 Chapters

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.

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

The silence in the car stretches longer than I expect it to.Not the awkward kind, but the kind that hums quietly between two people still measuring each other, still unsure where the boundaries lie. The road unfurls ahead of us, asphalt gleaming beneath the afternoon sun, trees blurring into soft green streaks on either side. Every now and then, sunlight filters through the branches, flashing briefly across the windshield before disappearing again.The engine purrs steadily, a low, consistent sound that grounds me or reminds me of where I am, there’s something oddly reassuring about it, the way it keeps me distracted from the silence inside the car, I keep my hands folded in my lap, fingers twisting together without me realizing it. My thumb rubs absentmindedly against my knuckle, over and over, a nervous habit I’ve never quite been able to shake. I stare out the window, pretending to be fascinated by the passing scenery, when really my mind is miles away, replaying earlier convers

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

The first thing to greet me isn’t the quiet comfort of books or the soft hush of turning pages.It’s SusanMore specifically, it’s the sound of Sarah’s wail of excitement, high-pitched and dramatic, the sound slices through the calm atmosphere of the library, tearing the carefully maintained silence and disrupting the fragile peace that usually lives here. Heads turn.Every single pair of eyes lands on me.I feel the heat immediately on my cheeks, my neck, my spine. “Oh my God!” Susan shrieks, already halfway across the space, arms flailing slightly as she rushes toward me, completely unbothered by the dozens of people now staring openly. “You’re back so soon! How did you know I was missing your presence?”She doesn’t pause to breathe. She doesn’t lower her voice. She doesn’t even notice Mrs Karen presence outside her office, lips pressing into a thin line of barely restrained irritation. She doesn’t notice the student at the nearby table who glares openly, finger pressed between t

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Having chosen to go to the market first, I find myself standing in front of a small toy shop, my feet rooted to the spot as one very cute teddy bear steals my attention completely.It sits neatly on a wooden shelf behind the glass, its pink fur soft-looking even from a distance, as if it would melt into your arms the moment you hugged it. A tiny ribbon is tied carefully around its neck, slightly crooked, like someone adjusted it in a hurry but still cared enough to make it look perfect.We’ve been moving from stall to stall since morning, weaving through narrow paths crowded with voices layered over each other, laughter, bargaining sellers calling out prices, the shuffle of feet on uneven ground, and the occasional cry of a child tugging impatiently at their parent’s hand. The air smells like dust, spices, and something fried nearby. We only stopped briefly for a coffee break, just enough time to sit, breathe, and pretend my legs weren’t screaming in protest.I am exhausted to the bon

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Watching Cole walk toward me, I feel a rush of emotions I can’t immediately put a name to.It comes fast, One moment I am standing still, grounded in the noise and movement of the market, and the next my chest tightens so sharply it almost steals my breath. My throat burns, my eyes sting, and I have to blink rapidly, once, twice, three times to keep the tears from spilling over and embarrassing me in the middle of a public space.I can’t remember the last time someone noticed something I needed.Not something I asked for. Not something I hinted at casually or slipped into conversation hoping it would stick. But something they saw and chose to act on without permission, without making it feel like a debt I would later have to repay.He keeps walking toward me, steady and unhurried, like he isn’t worried about whether I’ll accept what he’s holding. The crowd parts slightly around him, people stepping aside instinctively as if sensing his purpose. In his hands are the things I had convi

CHAPTER THIRTY

The first thing I notice is that we’re still driving, I glance out the window again.Unfamiliar buildings slide past, small shops pressed tightly together, Some look freshly painted, others faded and cracked with age. Narrow roads twist through the town, pedestrians weaving between cars, vendors calling out, motorcycles slipping through impossible gaps. This definitely isn’t the highway anymore.We’re deep inside the city now, the kind of place where everything feels more lived-in. “It seems the place we’re going to is inside town,” I say, turning toward Cole as he takes yet another turn, his third since we left the main road.I keep my tone light even though curiosity is starting to mix with mild concern.“Oh—yes,” he replies quickly, eyes still focused on the road. “Sorry about that. We’ll be there in a minute.”A minute.I press my lips together to stop a smile from forming.Men and their minutes.A minute could mean thirty seconds, or ten more turns, or an entire lifetime. The c

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