In a tale of resilience and ambition, Angel finds herself cast out after rejecting an unwanted advance, leaving her homeless and betrayed by those she trusted. With nowhere to turn, she seeks out the arrogant son of a political leader, who once recognized her potential as a writer. As he campaigns for mayor of Halifax, he proposes to her an unexpected lifeline: a two-year contract marriage that promises both stability and support for her Journalist dreams. But can Angel truly trust him, or is this just another betrayal waiting to happen?
Angel's Point of View
I leaned against the door frame of my aunt's room, my heart raced at a frantic rhythm as I gathered the courage to speak my mind.
" Good morning. I wanted to talk to you, Ma, "I stammered, my voice trembling, droplets of sweat clinging to my skin.
Her gaze shot up from the phone she had been engrossed in, her eyes narrowed as if I were an unwelcome intruder.
" What are you doing in my room so early? Have you completed your morning duties? " she asked, her tone dripping with arrogance.
I froze, a whirlwind of doubt swirled within me. What possessed me to approach her at this hour with such a bold statement?
Was I even in my right mind?
As I wrestled with my thoughts, her fiery stare seemed to pierce through me, and
I quickly plastered a forced smile across my face.
" I came to ask for soap for washing the tiles. There's barely any left," I muttered, trying to divert the tension.
The heat radiated from her presence, wrapped around me like a suffocated blanket. My mind raced, desperately searching for a way to hide from her penetrating gaze.
She stepped closer, her arms folded across her chest, eyes rolled dramatically.
"When was the last time I gave you soap?"
The question hit me like a slap.
Hadn't she just handed me a bar three days ago? My mouth went dry as I grappled with what to say next.
Should I even mention that?
What would her reaction be if I reminded her it was only three days ago?
Before I could form a coherent response, her voice cut through my thoughts like a knife.
"Don't you have ears?" She planted her hands on her hips, her expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief.
Something stirred within me, a sudden surge of defiance, and I blurted out,
"I don't want to work in the restaurant anymore." The boldness of my words surprised even me.
Her initial shock melted into a smirk, and a glimmer of amusement danced in her eyes.
" You don't want to work in the restaurant, huh?"
" Where do you want to be working now?"
The air between us crackled with unspoken tension, and I braced myself for her response, the weight of my declaration hanging heavy in the room.
"IN THE AIRPORT?" She asked,
"Princess that comes from a wealthy home" she added in a teasing voice.
I snubbed her statement and responded,
"I wanted to pursue my dream, ma" As I replied, I finally opened my eyes, eager to know her response.
The room fell silent as she paused, her lips curling into a faint smile, and she said,
"Dream!"
"What dream are you pursuing?" she asked and burst into a laugh.
THIS WOMAN WAS MOCKING ME!
I didn't care what she said, I answered her.
"Journalism" gazed into her eyes and read her mind as I replied to see her reaction towards it.
The room buzzed with energy as her two palms slapped each other in rapid succession, each sound cutting through the chatter, sharp and teasing.
Staring at me from head to toe with an irritating look.
She snapped, her voice raised.
"JOURNALISM!"
"It is better you call it a dream because you see that in your sleep every day."
As I saw her figure in front of me and listened to each word fall out of her mouth like a movement of tap water, tears welled in my eyes, making me feel the absence of my parents.
She continued,
"Who are you, that you wanted to become a journalist?"
She moved closer to me and murmured into my ear.
"You are not fit."
After what she said, she stepped back a little and continued laughing. She laughed as she spoke.
After she finished laughing at me, she came a little closer than before and pierced me with her gaze.
She yelled, touching the tip of her throbbing ear as a sign of warning to me, with each weighing the gravity of the sound.
" See, let me tell you, as from today, don't ever come and tell me trash again. You will continue working in the restaurant whether you want to or not. "
She looked at me from up and down and hissed at me.
She moved away from my front and went back to have her seat on her bed, which was adorned with soft ivory sheets and plush, embroidered duvet framed by a tall, elegant headboard. Decorative pillows in deep blue and a warm cashmere throw added a touch of luxury.
I was there standing as if there was no soul in my body anymore when she suddenly shouted again.
Her voice shattered the silence, echoed off the walls with fire in her eyes, and her voice raised above the storm as she ordered me.
"Get out of my sight!" Pointed to the outside for exit.
Startled by her loud voice, I quickly dashed into my room. My heart raced, desperate to cool my mind.
When I got into my room, I sat on the cold tiles of my room, shivered as sadness wrapped around me like a heavy blanket.
My aunt's voice echoed in my mind, insisting I keep working at the restaurant, making me feel lost and hopeless.
Eventually, I dragged myself to the kitchen to tackle one of my chores. Cooked the kidney beans for our breakfast. I set them on the gas stove, knowing they would take an hour and a half to two hours to cook.
Leaving the kitchen, I returned to my room, to search for comfort in my writing. My diary was my refuge, always ready to catch my thoughts and feelings.
As I wrote, I poured my heart onto the pages. My diary holds my life, my dreams, experiences, and lessons learned.
It was filled with the bad and good moments of my life. Each entry was marked with the date and time. Just as I was about to finish, my phone buzzed on the bed.
I glanced at the screen and saw a message from a writing site I had found the night before.
They wanted me to write an article about daily life, and I had a week to do it.
A spark of excitement lit up my heart, and I felt a rush of joy at the opportunity, knew I had time to craft something special.
I could mix it perfectly with the notes in my diary. I set the diary down, but my phone buzzed again. This time, it was a call. I glanced at the screen and saw Michelle's name.
She was my only friend, the one who always brought laughter into my life.
I swiped up on the green icon to answer.
"Hey Babe, how was your night?" her voice rumbled through the speaker, deep and warm like a cosy blanket. Teased me
" Michelle, my night was good!"I replied, a smile tugged at the corners of my lips as her words washed over me.
"You won't believe what happened last night," Michelle began, her voice animated with excitement.
"I met a guy. He was incredibly handsome and wealthy. "
I interjected softly, "Really? " Curiosity was piqued by her enthusiastic narration.
"Yeah, I'll show you his portrait on my tablet phone tomorrow at the restaurant," she continued, her words flowing effortlessly like a bubbling stream.
"What's his name?" I inquired, knowing she had skipped that detail.
" His name is handsome Marcus," she revealed, her tone filled with admiration.
I wanted to tease her a little and ask,
"What's the meaning of handsome Marcus?"
She didn't even listen to what I asked. She was busy talking about the moment she spent with the guy.
" We had a blast last night. He even took me home and gave me five thousand dollars. "
Michelle gushed, her words painted a picture of a night filled with surprises and generosity.
I later diverted her conversation to another question and asked,
"Michelle, are you going to give him a chance this time?" I leaned closer to the phone, and I was curious to hear her take it.
"Babe, let's not rush it," she replied, her voice sounded confident.
"I'm watching him. We'll see if he's worthy of being my man."
She suddenly shifted the conversation too and asked, "Less I forgot, will you follow me tomorrow? Or are you...? "
My heart sank as a sudden realization hit me when I looked at the time on the home screen of my phone. The beans! I glanced at the clock, ten-fifty. I had put them on the gas since seven.
"Michelle, I have to go!" I interrupted, my voice raised in urgency.
"I forgot about the beans!"
"Wait, what? You..."
Without waiting for her response, I dropped the phone, the clatter echoed as I dashed toward the kitchen, my heart racing like I was sprinting a marathon.
When I walked into the kitchen, the air was thick with smoke. I lifted the lid on the pot of beans, and my heart sank.
They were charred. I couldn't believe how much water had evaporated. I quickly turned off the gas and froze in panic. My hands clutched my head.
"I was doomed!"
I murmured as I threw open the kitchen windows with all my body shaking trying to let the smoke out. Just then, I heard footsteps coming, and my body went stiff with fear.
Who was that?
I felt like I was in big trouble because the family breakfast I had spent two hours making had been ruined.
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