Chapitre 1: 1
1
EMILY'S POV
"Ouch!" I withdrew my hand immediately from the oven and saw that my mitten had a hole in it. "This is going to sting." I remarked, looking at it in anger. Then I turned to the sink and turned on the tap.
"Did you hurt yourself, Miss?" Dahlia asked, coming into the kitchen.
"Oh, it's just a little burn." I replied, although it was obvious on my face that even as little as the burn was, it hurt badly.
Dahlia browsed through the cupboards, and in a minute, she had taken my hand and dabbed it in cool honey.
"My mom always did this. You'll heal just fine, but she never hesitated to dab honey on skin whenever it got burned." She explained, and I watched her. It must have been nice to remember her mother. Dahlia's mother was long dead and gone, and the only family Dahlia had were her two children.
She never talked much about her children, but Dahlia had been more than a mother to me. She kept the house clean, cooked, and never hesitated to listen to me whenever I needed it.
Although she never collected anything from me besides her monthly pay, instead, being a fashion designer, I made her lots of beautiful aprons, napkins, and mittens, which she loved dearly.
"You were baking potatoes?" She asked, returning the honey.
"Yes, I was. It's John's favorite." I replied, with a blush spreading over my face.
I checked the time on my phone, and my smile grew wider as I stared at a photo of him smiling brightly. It was my wallpaper, and one I was never going to change.
"I baked chicken thighs, too. Want to have a taste?" I asked Dahlia as she moved around the kitchen, fixing things I had put out of place.
"Don't you bother. I'm sure it'll taste great." She replied as she began to wash the dishes.
"If only omegas like me could somehow manage to get fast cooking skills, then we'd be content." I mentioned it out of the blue, and she chuckled.
"John has you thinking of the most absurd things every time, Emily." She remarked, and I seized the opportunity to talk about John. I never got tired of talking about him, no matter how I tried.
"You know, when you just love someone all your life, I mean, I have been meant to love John since I was born. He's sweet, charming, handsome, a perfect gentleman, listens when I need to, and he's also romantic. Oh, Dahlia, sometimes he stares at me and says he can't get enough of my beauty!" I rattled on and on, going to stand next to Dahlia, who laughed.
"He says that?"
"He notices everything about me. If I wear a new hairpin, earring, or even a different lipstick color, he knows! And he always makes sure to compliment me." I said, then leaned against the counter, tangling my fingers together in front of my belly as I gazed into space.
"I can't wait for us to finally be married. Having kids with John would feel... I don't know. We'd shower them with love. Oh, Dahlia, I can't wait to get married!" I squealed and began to dance without music.
"Your potatoes are getting cold." She said it with a smile, and I rushed to them, taking out my bento box to spoon everything I had made onto it.
"We have almost everything ready, although some last-minute decisions are still being made. All with my consent, of course. The dress is perfect since I designed it myself; so is John's suit, and... I continued to ramble on and on about my wedding, which was creeping up on me faster than I imagined.
Although it wasn't as fast as I wanted it to be,.
After packing up the food into my bento box, I left the house, telling Dahlia to have as much fun as she wanted since I wasn't going to be back for the night.
I stepped out, and the cool night air ruffled dark blonde strands of hair across my face. My fingers brushed them aside, and I began my brisk walk towards the roadside, underneath the dark blue sky strewn with stars.
"Taxi!" I called, flagging down a cab.
I got in and called out my destination.
In a matter of days, when John and I were married, we would be moved to the large family house.
Not that a lot of people lived there anyway. It was just a lot of buildings built closely, and a family held each building.
John and I were going to have one, and I couldn't wait.
We had a little of a situation on the road, as the traffic threatened to make my meal warm.
John liked his baked potatoes very hot, and I didn't want anything less than hot.
Thankfully, the traffic cleared out after a while, and we began to move again. Shortly, I received a call from the interior decorator, who was decorating the hall along with her crew.
"Hello."
"Hello, Emily. Do you want the pink ribbons or the yellow ones?"
"Both! I want it very colorful. The roses should all be white, and, uh, I want the walls to all have screens—large screens where lovely moments of me and John will be displayed. I'll send more photos in, okay? And, hmm, I'd like heart-shaped balloons hanging from the ceiling; you should know how to arrange them right. I want to look up and watch them spell me and John's names." I explained from the picture of the wedding hall I had imagined and stuck it in my head.
"Okay. I'll do just that."
"Will you recall all this?" I asked.
"Yes ma'am. I'm recording the call, so I wouldn't miss the important details." She replied.
"Alright. That's great." I said that and ended the call.
I got to John's house, got down, and paid the taxi driver.
He zoomed off, and I walked towards John's front porch. He was still awake. All the lights were still on. I pressed in the combination for the door lock and walked in.
I walked briskly to his dining table and took out my bento box.
"Potatoes, thighs, fruits, veggies..." I listed out the dishes I prepared as I arranged them on the table. I went to his kitchen to check if he'd eaten, but all the dishes were clean. Well, it wasn't like he wouldn't eat them, even though he had eaten dinner.
John ate light and did whatever he could to please me. So, he would definitely eat on a full stomach if I prepared it.
I looked at the set table and smiled to myself, correcting a few things. I'd call out to him, and the aroma would hit him before the heavenly sight.
My hands found my phone in my pocket, and I decided to phone him instead of calling out to him.
I'd call him and tell him to check his living room for my purse. I'd claim I forgot it, then he'd see the beauty in front of him.
I was about to click on his number when I changed my mind.
"Just surprise him." I said, and he bound up his staircase.
I located his room easily, which was the last one, and pushed it open as slowly as I could. If possible, I wanted to give him the greatest scare of his life.
"Ahh." I heard it and stopped. The voice was soft and sounded nothing like a sound John could make. It was way too feminine.
Was he watching a movie? No, it couldn't be. I shrugged off the thought and decided to step in.
I pushed the door gently, walked in with light steps, and raised my head with a bright smile, but it went running down as fast as lightning.
John was on the bed, with a woman atop him.
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone