(Jonathan's POV) "You can stop here," I uttered softly to my driver, who like the caretaker had served me for years. "I wouldn't want to draw any attention to myself." "Okay sir," he responded, parking the car a few meters away from the bus stop. My skin was instantly grazed by the hotness of the sun as I stepped out of the limousine and began to walk towards the commercial bus that was still taking in commuters. "You can sit over here sir," a young teenage boy gestured towards me as I scouted for a seat. "Oh, thank you." I nodded, a faint smile visible on my face. As the wheels of the bus began to move, my mind wandered back to that fateful day when I met Emelda. It was one year to the day since I'd lost my son and daughter-in-law in a car accident, and filled with grief and sad memories of them both, I'd sought solace in the bottom of a bottle in a bar which I later found out was owned by Emelda's stepmother. The liquor had numbed my senses, dulled my pain, but only for a time. And then, in the haze of my drunken stupor, I'd stumbled and vomited on the floor of the bar, my body heaving and retching, my world spinning. It was then that I saw her, Emelda, rushing towards me with a handkerchief unlike the others who just glared at me in disgust. She didn't hesitate, didn't flinch at the sight of me, a drunken, grieving old man. "Are you okay sir?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle as she helped me to clean myself up. "It's okay sir. Everyone has their bad days." She added. "I'm Emelda," she'd said, her eyes kind and sympathetic. "Th…thank you." I managed to mutter, feeling too choked up to speak. She'd helped me to a chair, and she'd sat with me, talking to me as though I were a human being, not a drunk old man. And although I was filled with despair and grieving, I'd seen something in her, kindness, a spark of light in the darkness, a compassion that I had not felt genuinely in a long time. Over the next few weeks, I purposely would stop by for a drink so that I could see, observe and get to know Emelda better. On one occasion, I intentionally stayed till the close for the day. I volunteered to walk her home after her stepmother and sister had left earlier in the car. We spoke for hours. She told me about her life, her dreams, her struggles. And I shared with her little of my own stories, my memories of my late son and daughter-in-law. It was on such an occasion that the idea struck me. I could marry her for Bryan who had continued in his lascivious lifestyle and had chosen not to be responsible. Atleast, I was sure that a good heir would be birthed and raised. But first, she would have to pass the test. Finally, the driver announced that the bus had come to its destination. I scurried through numerous passengers. I never knew there could be too many people on a bus. I was glad when I stepped off the bus. Scanning my eyes across the street for Juana I adjusted the collar of my shirt. In a few seconds, I spotted her standing across the street, so I crossed over, my steps brisk and businesslike. "Mr. Rodriguez," she uttered, her smile coy and calculating. "What a pleasure to see you." I nodded, my expression neutral. "Thank you, Juana." She waved a hand dismissively. "It's nothing. Shall we?" "Yes, sure." I responded, trying to keep my expression calm and neutral. Juana led the way with a haughty air as we made our way to her house which was not quite far from the open street. In a few minutes we were already in. As I sat in one of the chairs, my eyes took a stroll in my surroundings. Their home was a far cry from the gigantic mansion I was used to, but I could still see the signs of its former glory, the expensive art and antique furnishings that hinted of a once-wealthy family. "Thank you for having me," I said, my voice polite but firm. "Of course," Juana says, her tone dismissive. "So, Mr Rodriguez, are you here with the money?" Juana asked impatiently, her eyes glinting with greed. "Oh, I…" "Mum, where have you been? Been searching all over for you." Natasha, a young lady of about the same age as Emelda came whining, cutting me off. "I simply must have that new dress for the party, all my friends have theirs already." Natasha continued, her voice shrill and grating. "It's the latest fashion, and everyone will be wearing it. I can't be left out." It was obvious that unlike Emelda, Natasha was a spoiled and overly-pampered brat. I watched her, my face neutral as I tried to hide my annoyance. Juana shoots me a look of apology, a forced smile on her face. "Please forgive her, Mr. Rodriguez. Natasha is a bit...high-spirited." she covered up. I nodded, my expression still carefully neutral. "Of course," I replied. "It's no trouble at all." "Anyway," Juana let out, her tone firm as she turned back to me. "We were discussing my daughter, Emelda. Natasha's impatience was clear as her brows furrowed. "Why can't you just talk about me for once?" she ranted, her voice an irritable whine. Juana's face darkened instantly, from the look on her face, she had had enough. She was already irritated. "Natasha, be quiet," she snapped, her tone revealing she had lost her temper. "We are discussing important matters here." I resist the urge to sigh, my patience wearing thin. Natasha huffs, but she does as she was told. Crossing her arms over her chest in a childish display of anger, she sank into the brown leathered furniture, her mouth shut. Silently, I let out a soft sigh releasing the irritation built in me. I turned my attention back to Juana, my voice calm and level. "Can I see my bride now?"
Emelda's POV As I walked into my room, my stomach gave out a rumbling noise, accompanied with a sharp pain. It was obvious; hunger pangs. I hadn't eaten since the previous night and it was past noon already. Holding my stomach so tightly, I collapsed onto the bed as my aching muscles due to cleaning and cooking yearned for rest. I was exhausted and it was clearly visible on my face. Just as I'm about to drift off to sleep, the door opens, and my stepsister, Natasha, barged in. "Emelda," she snapped, her voice shrill and accusatory. "Why haven't you cleaned my room yet?" Rubbing my eyes, I sat up, "I was busy," I replied, my voice quiet. "Busy?" Natasha repeated, her voice dripping with disgust. "Busy doing what, exactly? You're just simply lazy, Emelda, a worthless little servant." I bit my lip as I tried to hold back the anger rising within me. "I'm not lazy," I answered back, my voice stronger now. "I work hard for this family, and I deserve some respect." Natasha's
Emelda's POV It was two in the afternoon when the cab which carried us from the bus park came to a halt in front of an old dilapidated apartment complex. "We are home, " Jonathan announced before stepping out of the vehicle and walking over to the other side of the car to help me out. As my silver sandal heel kissed the floor, a knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I stood still for some time as I looked around what was now my new environment and new home. I was jolted back to reality immediately Jonathan who had been talking to the cab driver tapped me softly on my shoulders. "Shall we?" He beckoned, a weathered smile on his wrinkled face. He was a good man, but I couldn't help but feel disgusted that he had gone past me and made a deal to marry me, like I was a property easily sold and bought. Still overwhelmed, I only nodded as I followed him. As we made our way up the stairs, the stairwell leading up to his unit reeked of stale cigarette smoke and mildew, and t
Emelda's POV The world stood still as Jonathan's words rang in my ears for the upteempth time. "I'm going to take a quick nap. I would leave you two to solve your father-in-law and Daughter-in-law squabble." Bryan who had been on his phone uttered as he let out a scornful laughter. Ignoring Bryan, my mind focused on Jonathan's words which echoed in my head, a deafening buzz that drowned out all rational thought. Bryan. Not Jonathan. My husband. My mind reeled, struggling to process the new information. As I stood staring blankly at Jonathan, anger and betrayal welled up like a tidal wave, sweeping away all reason and sense I had. I lashed out, my words hot as the flames as I accused Jonathan of treating me like a possession–a property he could just toss around. I poured out the resentment I had held up inside, letting my raw emotions flow like an untamed river. Suddenly, I realized what I was doing and I caught myself, my voice softening. I had gone overboard with my w
Emelda's POV I jolted awake by the sound of a loud voice and a sharp tap on my shoulder. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty!" The voice called out. It was Bryan's, his tone mocking and aggressive. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sat up, the room still swimming in a haze of grogginess. "What's going on?" I asked, my voice thick with sleep. "Is this how you sleep?" Bryan smirked, his voice dripping with contempt. "Wow, you sleep like the dead. Guess that means you won't be nagging me in the middle of the night, huh?" I ignored his jab, climbed out of bed and smoothed down my hair. "It's late," I said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Dinner should be ready soon." Bryan scoffed. "Yeah, well, I'm starving. What is there to eat?" Swallowing the retort rising in my throat, I headed to the kitchen. I opened the old wooden cupboard to find a bag of rice and some tinned vegetables. Not exactly a five-star meal, but it'll have
Bryan's POV My teeth clashed in anger and my mind seethed with rage as I stormed out of the house, leaving Emelda still standing in shock. I knew my words cut through her but I didn't mind. It was a dumb idea agreeing to whatever my grandfather had told her. I pushed the door leading to the stairs open with such force that it slammed against the wall, sending a reverberating noise across the empty stairwell. Still enraged, I take the stairs, two at a time, my footsteps echoing in the dank and dingy stairwell. As I rounded the corner to the ground floor, my hand brushed against something sticky and rough. Realizing it was a cobweb, I let out a cry of disgust. The cobweb dangled like a ghostly specter from the ceiling. Filled with disgust, I furiously shake my hand, wiping the cobweb's residue on the almost rusted metallic rail. "Disgusting," I muttered under my breath, my irritation boiling over. “This place is a dump, just like everything else in my life right now.” I
(Bryan's POV) As the car pulled up at my destination, a deep feeling of joy and excitement washed over me. I was ready to party and get wasted. I had had enough for the day, and this was the only way I could release all the piled up stress. "Have a great night, Sir." The driver uttered, his face beaming with joy as he counted the money I paid, including the extra tip I gave him. As I stepped out of the Uber, I tried my best to hide my embarrassment. I couldn’t let anyone know the real reason why I wasn’t driving my own car. Immediately I dismissed the driver, I caught sight of my friend, Luke, strolling towards me. “Hey, Bryan! Where’s your ride at?” he asked, jokingly. “Thought you’d show up in your flashy car. I know how you love her so much and always want to show her to the world.” I let out a forced laugh. “Oh, she’s getting some TLC at the mechanic’s,” I lied, trying to sound casual. “Just giving my baby a treat.” Luke chuckled. “You and that car of yours, man. It’s lik
(Emelda's POV) I was still standing in shock at the piercing words Bryan had hurled at me, when I heard a knock on the door. The dinner I had labored to make earlier and served to Bryan still sat on the table, the food barely touched. I quickly wiped the stray tear that had escaped my eye. Thinking it must be Bryan, I ran towards the door. Maybe he’d come to apologize, or perhaps he’d forgotten something. But when I opened the door, it was his grandfather, Jonathan, standing on the other side. My face flushed with embarrassment as he looked around the messy living room and the untouched food on the dinner table. “Emelda,” Jonathan said, his eyebrow furrowing and his voice calm but firm. “Is everything alright?” I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my emotions in check. “Yes, everything is fine,” I lied. “Bryan was just here, he left a few minutes ago.” Jonathan raised an eyebrow, stepping further into the apartment and staring long at the dinner table. “Really? It doesn’t
(Emelda's POV) It was almost an hour, but Jonathan and Bryan's conversation intensified with every minute. I had tried to fall asleep earlier but the thundering noise echoing through the walls hindered me. I paced around the bedroom, trying to piece together the fragments of information I had. Jonathan seemed to be in charge, but was he the one controlling Bryan? And if so, why? Was it because of me? And why are they talking and shouting about a blocked card? As I pondered these questions, I finally heard the argument in the living room come to an abrupt end, followed by the sound of the front door slamming shut. I froze, wondering if Bryan had left. Cautiously, trying to avoid the creaking sound of the wooden door, I opened the bedroom door, peering out into the living room. It was empty. Bryan had left, and Jonathan was nowhere to be found. I stood there, my heart racing. I felt so lost, so alone. I didn’t know what was happening, or what my place in all of this was.