Chapter 6

  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 the dingy hallway was dotted with flickering overhead lights.  "So sorry about that, Emelda." Jonathan apologized after seeing the slight disgust on my face because of the cigarette smoke. "I will talk to the house caretaker about it." he added.   "It's fine," I responded, trying to feign a smile which obviously from the look on Jonathan's face didn't turn out well.   "Yeh!"  "Home sweet home."  Jonathan gushed as he brought out a bunch of keys from his pocket and began opening the door in front of us.   My eyes fell on the tattered sofa immediately we got in, the white cotton curtain that covered the window was slightly torn at the bottom.   The apartment was really nothing like the house I had lived in all my life, even though my cruel mother and spiteful step sister had almost ruined it with their negligence.   "This is the kitchen," Jonathan called out, drawing my attention from the living room to the kitchen.   The kitchen was small, barely having enough space for four. The wooden cabinets were old and most of them chipped.   After showing me around, Jonathan finally took me to the bedroom where I'll be staying. The bed, although moderate, was half the size of the bed back home.   As I unpacked my belongings, I comforted myself, "Cheer up! Emelda. It is better living in a rat hole where there's peace, than living in a mansion with so much strife and lack of peace."   Letting out a deep breath, I  picked up my well folded black gown and placed it in the wardrobe.   "Here, take this," Jonathan said, stretching the full glass of water to me, his face warm. "It would help you relax, the sun out there was really hot."   "Thank you," I reply quietly, my voice still muted by the overwhelming feeling wrapped around my heart.   "Where can I keep these?" I inquired, pointing to my shoes and sandals as I placed the almost emptied glass of water on the wooden table beside me.   "Uhmm…You can place it anywhere fit for you." Jonathan answered after scanning the room.  After a few minutes, Jonathan cleared his throat. "If you need anything, just let me know. I'll be in the living room."  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.  I looked out the small-size window for a few moments and then continued unpacking my few belongings. I tried not to think about my past life shared with my parents. I was going to embrace my new life now.   The silence was interrupted by a quiet knock on the door. "Hey, Emelda?" It's Jonathan. "Is everything okay, are you done unpacking?"  I turned to face the closed door, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. "Almost done. I-I'm fine. Thank you," I replied, trying to control my trembling voice.   "Okay, I'm just going to step out for a few minutes," Jonathan answered back, his  voice creased with concern. "Would you want anything?" He asked.   "No…" I replied sharply, my trembling voice ceasing.   "Okay then, see you in a few minutes." He announced faintly as he slipped out the door.   In a few minutes I was done unpacking. After unpacking, I sank into the sagging sofa.   Just as I started to drift off, a knock landed on the door.   Assuming it was Jonathan, I quickly scrambled up and dashed towards the door, but the person on the other side was a total stranger.   The stranger wore a white shirt which was half-tucked into one side of his burgundy pants, his hair was quite messy and uncombed. Despite this, he still looked handsome and exuded a certain level of charm, with his strong physique and pleasant scent. He looked rough, but in a way it made him strangely appealing.  "Who are you?" I asked, my voice sharp with concern as I caught myself and began to look around instead, scanning the environment for any strange movement.   Barely looking at me, he arrogantly strolled past me and plopped down onto the couch I had just left, brushing me to one side.   I glared at the man, my slender hands planted on my hips. "You can't just barge in here without proper introduction," I voiced, my tone growing more indignant by the second. "This isn't your place."  He shrugged, his eyes fixed on the television. "Maybe it isn't," he said nonchalantly. "But I'm here now, so you might as well get used to it."  "Arghh!" I exclaimed softly as I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration.   My heart pounded in my chest slightly. It was clear, the man seated in front of me was trouble.  Confused, I watched in silence as he turned his head, finally taking notice of me.   His eyes traveling from my feet to my head, a sneer curling his lips. "You must be Emelda," he finally uttered, his voice dripping with contempt.  I opened my mouth to retort, but I was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. It was Jonathan.   Quickly, I rushed to him, ready to complain. But before I could get a word out, he turned to the man on the sofa.  "I see you two have already met," Jonathan let out, his voice serious as he stared at the man seated. "And is that how to treat a lady?" Jonathan questioned, his frown deepening.   The man seated shoots a look of defiance at Jonathan.   "She's nothing special, Dad. You could have at least told me you were bringing home some little charity case."  Jonathan's face hardens. "That's enough, Bryan," He thundered, his voice sharp and stern. "I expect you to treat Emelda with respect. This is her home now, too."  Bryan snorted as he rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, grand dad. But don't expect me to babysit her."  "Your grandson?" I blurted out, my eyes darting between the two men. "Wait, you never mentioned children at any point. So, I'm a stepmother to a man older than I am?”  Jonathan let out a soft laughter, a deep, booming sound that echoed around the room.   "No, no, Emelda," he says, shaking his head.   "Emelda meet, Bryan, my grandson and your husband."   "Wait! What?" My jaw dropped as my mind reeled the information.    This arrogant man is my husband? Hell no!