LOVING THE REJECTED BILLIONAIRE

A thousandth ring!

I grit my teeth and switch the damn phone off.

How annoying!

I understand it’s a shock for a wedding to be called off at the very last minute. I get it. It was unexpected! It’s inconveniencing, alarming, and unbelievable. But didn’t we do enough explaining in the emails? What happened to people respecting others’ decisions?

We are not expecting for any understanding from anyone. None at all! We get it. Who cancels their wedding on the morning of the big day, right? That’s… Unbelievable. But it is what it is.

They can call it crazy. Weird. Madness. Whatever name they want to give it. The truth is, I will abide by whichever name they choose, and I won’t try to defend myself or say anything against it. I have nothing to explain, because who would understand our predicaments, right? But is it so arduous to just accept and respect the fact that we have cancelled the wedding? Come on!

I drag my numb legs to the kitchen. Actually, my body cells and nerves died last. I feel nothing but cold. The only thing in my heart is just anger. My brain seems to have stopped functioning from a few hours ago. My head is pounding. All glory to Maria! The she-devil! I saunter into the kitchen, and as if this morning hasn’t been adequately horrendous, I have to see face-to-face with this bitch of a devil. Can a presumably wedding morning be any worse than this? Bitter sigh!Content property of NôvelDra/ma.Org.

I thought she despised this kitchen? I presumed her legs didn’t like walking in this kitchen before? I thought the heat of the oven and the aroma from this room suffocated her? I thought the screeching sounds of cooking utensils irritated her to the core? I thought she was allergic to the smell of spices before, and that is why she never cooked for Andy and Angel? She couldn’t stand all that, right? What is she doing now with an apron and mittens? And wait, what is that disgusting smell coming from the oven?

Is she planning to take over my house? To prove that she is as good as I am? Or better than me?

I turned this deserted room into a kitchen when I came here. It took me a heartbreaking experience and a full week of cold treatments from Andy to be permitted to use this kitchen. It took all my efforts, strength, and love to remind Andy and Angel how homemade delicacies tasted. How sweet it is to eat food fresh from your own kitchen prepared with love. And now she walks back into their lives, into this house just like that and pretends like she was used to this? Like she liked doing this for them? Do they even know the taste of her cooking?

“What kind of a ghost is roaming in your mind, cousin? Your eyes are about to pop out of their sockets?” She utters, a wide devilish smirk plastered on her face.

How ironic! She is the ghost in my mind. She is the one tormenting me, standing right before me, yet she doesn’t know? Or maybe she is just playing the fool because she is enjoying tormenting me like this.

Ignorance is bliss, the best remedy for fights and confrontations such as this, so I refuse to take part in her small cheap games and walk to the coffee machine. I might as well wait and see what a good fucking cook is.

I make my coffee in peace. It would have been more peaceful if this bitch wasn’t fighting with a chopping board and knife, or clicking her tongue every now and then. I don’t understand the reasons behind this obviously fake charade she is putting up. Why all these efforts even when she is failing at hiding her pretense?

I know this rotten snobby bitch very well! She doesn’t gable for nothing. For her to stoop this low, the catch is quite mind-blowing. What that is, is what I would give my life to uncover. Just what exactly are you playing at, Maria? I hope it’s not the lives of Andy and Angel you are determined to ruin. I will not allow you to destroy them.

I take my coffee, and take a sip. I swallow bitterly.

The first and last time my favourite lemon and honey coffee tasted this bitter was when Andy and I had a fight a few days since I came here. That time when he refused to talk to me for a week. The only moment that was so horrible for all my stay here. The only time I hated seeing his face, because my sight disgusted him. He was so furious with me, but that hell of a week gave birth to something sweet.

I was given the right and the freedom to use this kitchen. He entrusted his house to me, and most importantly, their lives. He made me their chef. We became like a small family learning how to be happy with little things such as having meals together. It was beautiful! The bond between us bolstered. We became close to each other through simple means like sharing coffee together, and talking about anything and everything in general.

I can’t remember how or when I stopped seeing him as my boss, or the cold Adrian Ashton. I don’t recall when I quit feeling like a maid before him, nor can I decipher what captivated me in him. I can’t explain what exactly made me fall for him. I just found myself standing on the shores of the ocean of love, waiting for him to draw me far into its deepest depths and drown us both in it. And he did. The impossible turned possible. The unreal turned real. The magical spark worked its magic through our hearts, bodies, and souls, leaving us with nothing but a burning love and unquenchable desires for each other.

There were no regrets. No buts. No what-ifs. Nothing dared holding us back from loving each other in the most simplest but sweetest way possible. Nothing was a threat, because we both took the initiative to fight for what we both wanted.

I didn’t back down or cower in fear or shame when my parents questioned me about having an affair with a married man. Even my twin sisters questioned me. As if they know a damn about love. An affair, is what it seemed to them all, but little did they know that their precious firstborn had fallen in love with that married man, and she was willing to fight the whole world for her love.

I stood my ground even when I felt like I was hurting them with my decision. I never blinked or bowed my head down every time I faced them, nor did I stammer when I told them that I will still marry Andy even if they don’t give me their blessings. Eventually, they gave in after witnessing how adamant we both were to defend our love. It felt like our happy ever after had started. Finally, my sweet Andy and I were going to get married. I was going to give him and Angel a beautiful and happy family they both desire and deserve.

We were just so close. We were standing at the open door to our happy ever after when suddenly a wind slum it shut to our faces. Maria! Fucking Maria Rodgers! I shift my gaze at her, locking hers. Seems like she was about to strike, huh!