Someone Like You | Sample

14

When a rogue tear slips down my cheeks, I quickly wipe it away and pulling my hair up into a high ponytail, return to my task. Making breakfast. My grandma wouldn't have wanted to see me this way, crying. She'd want me to be happy, smiling. So I smile.

By seven AM I am done and wiping the kitchen counters. The house is still quiet so that's a good thing. I turn back to grab my bowl of porridge and grabbing a spoon, move towards the sofa. I decide eating breakfast while editing my latest manuscript will be a lot more productive than doing both tasks separately.

This manuscript is a lot more different than I've gotten before. So far it's light and refreshing, about a girl from a fishing community finding self-love after being married off and widowed at a young age. I suppose I should thank the new chief editor at the publishing company who doesn't corner me as Alicia did.

A smile settles onto my lips and I take a bite of my porridge before continuing where I had left off earlier this morning.

It is around nine when the muffled sounds begin stirring around the quiet house, and I glance up just in time to see a sleepy Isaac wobble towards me, while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Mama?" he croaks sleepily as he looks around the house until his eyes spots me. He begins walking towards me, still unsteady on his feet. I'm a little surprised that he isn't yelling today like he always does when I leave the bed before he wakes up. He seems a lot more calm. Maybe it's my home decor?

"Mama?" Isaac croaks again, this time reaching me as he licks his lips. His round eyes looking at me with something I can't explain. No one has looked at me like this before. Like I'm the most important thing to them. Like they need me to keep them close to them all the time. He's never called me Mama before too.

So I put aside my manuscript, pick him up and place him onto my lap, wrapping my arms around the small boy.

"Good morning, my handsome young man!" I greet him cheerily, placing a kiss on his thick black hair.

"I had a bad dream," Isaac whispers suddenly, filling up the silence with his voice.

I frown at the child, worried if he's acting so differently because of that, "What did you see?"

I feel as Isaac stiffens underneath me, his arms grasping my dress, "I can't tell."

I'm almost about to ask him to tell me when he adds in quickly, "I — I don't remember."

My eyes widen at that, and I nod. I don't remember my dreams after I wake up 99.99% of the time so I decide to drop it. Instead I wrap my arms around the boy tighter and feel myself getting up on my feet and begin walking towards the bedroom.

"Just remember that there is a reason it is called a dream. It won't happen in real life, Isaac. Dreams you see with your eyes closed never come true," I say softly to the child and feel him nodding against my chest, "Good. Now let's get you freshened up. I've made porridge, eggs and chicken sandwiches. You like those, don't you?"

"Yeah," Isaac mumbles quietly and I hear his stomach suddenly growling. A soft chuckle leaves my lips at that. My little boy is hungry.

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William calls around 9 in the morning. I'm in the garden when I hear Isaac yelling from the living room that his father is calling.