Chapter 7

  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 words.   Pausing, I took a deep breath, holding back every emotion of anger, pain and hurt.   But like a broken dam, tears began to spill over, a dam of sadness and fear breaking within me.   My knees buckled, and I staggered, almost falling to the ground, the information I received and my situation hitting me like a physical blow when Jonathan caught me with his firm grip, leading me to the sofa.  I tried to speak, but my voice was choked with sobs. "I'm sorry," I managed to whisper, my voice almost inaudible. "I didn't mean to yell at you, Jonathan."  Jonathan made himself comfortable next to me, his eyes full of genuine care and concern. "It's okay, Emelda. You've been through so much. It's only natural that you'd be angry."  Jonathan's voice was gentle, like a soft blanket wrapped around me.   "I've been watching you, Emelda. I saw how your stepmother and stepsister treated you. They were cruel, and I knew that Juana wouldn't let you go without a hefty price. That was why I had to do what I did."  His words sent triggers to  my heart, a reminder of the past I've tried so hard to place behind me. But something about his tone, about the way he looked at me, filled me with comfort. I could tell he genuinely cared.   "Bryan needed someone in his life to guide him, to help him be a better man," Jonathan continued, his voice steady and calm. "And I knew that someone could be you. You have a strength in you, Emelda, a strength that's been forged in the flames of adversity. I knew that you could be the one to tame Bryan's wild spirit."  His words were soothing and healed my bruised soul, a salve that eases my pain.   "I'm not asking you to forgive me, Emelda," Jonathan let out as he placed his right arm across my shoulders, his voice full of sincerity. "I'm asking you to give Bryan a chance. To give us a chance."  His words washed over me, the warmth from his gaze melting my resistance. I nod, as I wiped off the tears still flowing out. "Okay," I whisper. "I'll try. For you, and for Bryan. But mostly because of you."  "Thank you, Emelda," Jonathan replied, his face softening with relief as it formed into a wide smile. "I won't let you down, I promise."  He reached out to his pocket, brought out a white handkerchief and gently wiped away my tears.   The gesture was tender, unexpected, and for the first time since my both parents had died, I felt something stir within me that was not anger, despair or pain. It was trust.  "I should go find Bryan," Jonathan uttered, standing up. "I'll talk some sense to him. You deserve better than how he treated you." He added.  "No, Jonathan, there's no need." I resisted.   "No, I insist." Jonathan answered back. Just then, his phone peeped.  "I'll be back, let me take this." He said softly before leaving the sitting room, shutting the entrance door behind him and leaving me with the arrogant beast.  In a few minutes, Jonathan returned. Not saying a word to me, he walked straight to the bedroom to meet Bryan, his face was stern and serious.   But before I had time to analyze every angle as to why he was that furious, a state I had never seen him in,  I heard raised voices from the bedroom.   Tiptoeing to the door, I pressed my ear against the wood.  "How could you talk to Emelda like that?" Jonathan voiced, his tone growling. "You should know that you're not just disrespecting her, you're disrespecting me!"  Bryan sneered. "Oh, spare me the lecture, grandfather. I don't care about Emelda. I didn't ask for this, you know. I didn't ask for a mail-order bride."  My heart seized at his words, the peace I felt after discussing with Jonathan evaporated like a gas. I pressed my hand against my mouth, stifling a sob.  "She deserves better than this," Jonathan snapped. "Better than you."  "Fine," Bryan says, his voice cold and hard. "If you're so hell-bent on being chivalrous, you can take her as your wife. I won't have an objection to it. She's definitely not my type!"  The words pierced through me like daggers, a stabbing pain in my chest. I stumbled back from the door, feeling like I might collapse. I felt like trash.  "You are unbelievable!" Jonathan yelled back. "Well, you have no choice, she's your wife now and you know what's at stake if you don't comply." Jonathan added.   Sensing their conversation was over, I scurried back to the couch, wiping away the tear that escaped my eyes as quickly as possible.  In a few seconds, the door swung open, and Jonathan stepped out. His face was calm as he tried to hide the anger built up inside.   "I would be leaving now. I have things to take care of." He uttered, his voice calm as his face. "Call this number anytime you need anything." He added, giving a cell number written on a paper before shutting the door behind him.   Taking a deep sigh to let out the pain in my heart, I sank into the couch.   On the sofa, I pondered how someone so calm, nice and disciplined as Jonathan would end up with an arrogant and spoiled grandson and why for some reason, despite his rough looks and bad attitude he appeared appealing to me.   What did Jonathan mean by 'you know what is at stake?' I thought to myself.  "What secret are they both keeping?"   Wearied from the journey and all the emotional outburst, I feel asleep.