JESSICHA
Today, my grandfather asked me to meet him. What I want to know is if I'll have enough time for my jog. Saul drove me to my office as he usually does, but it was quieter because I was upset about last night. I wasn't upset that he didn't make sure the message was sent because that really could happen. What I was upset about was that I felt like I deserved it somehow. Saul must've felt my mood because he didn't even attempt to make me smile with his own cheery smile. In fact, his smile was rather gloomy today.
I checked the files my secretary sent me for my perusing today and decided I needed about four hours for that, making me consider and decide how my day will go.
Hmmm....
It's just seven in the morning. If I prepare now and call Saul up, I think I'll have enough time to finish everything before going to Grandfather this afternoon.
Grandfather sometimes became my father figure when I stayed in the city to be trained for the business, but I ended up starting my own with the help of my family. I wasn't interested in the family business, but I thought I could at least help by doing something I love through an extension of it. That way, if my business grows, the family business also grows.
I'm not sure why he wants to meet with us, but I'm thinking it might be because of an event. Speaking of events, I really wanted to go to the Legaspi showcase—at least one of their events, but I couldn't because I didn't find out about it in time. The tickets sold out like crazy.
Tera, my secretary, dropped by earlier and placed my work on my table. Something that's to be annoyed about and thankful for. Afterall, I'd rather not work in the office.
Suddenly, my phone rang and vibrated, surprising me, and making me jump a bit. It was my close, sister-like friend Talia.
"He—"
"What in the world were you thinking when you decided to get married without telling us?" she ranted, breathing heavily at the end. It may be that she was angry, and it is greatly likely that she was mad, but a ridiculous part of me hoped that she was just tired from doing something like exercising or a chore.
I blinked when I realized what she was asking. I thought I sent her a complete summary of everything that happened?
"Didn't you receive my letter?" I asked slowly, "I sent you the invite with a message through mail and email mail, a text message, and a video of the wedding by the studio... didn't you get any of them?"
"What are you saying?" she asked. I could already imagine her incredulous frown. After seconds of my silence, she hung up. I didn't know what to say. Anything I'd say would sound empty because I really did what I said I did. The reason she wasn't informed was an external factor. No way she didn't receive any of these things except for that reason.
Wild thoughts ran through my mind almost at once and I felt something strange stir at the pit of my stomach. Something's definitely wrong, and I couldn't quite place a finger on it. I don't just give my personal number away. Who could've intercepted?
I shook my head. I mean, if my thoughts were even the least bit true, that's a lot of drama in my life going on in my life right now. That can't possibly be.
Kidding about the former, by the way, there's barely any drama in my life that it seems almost monotonous these days.
I went down to clear my head only to find my husband flirting with none other than his ex-girlfriend. Wow... I... just... Wow. He was grinning boyishly at her as she leaned forward to whisper something in his ear.
There's a huge problem here. I'm not usually the jealous type, but when it comes to this, wherein the girl is more successful or confident than me in every way, I definitely get greener and greener.
She was everything I knew he wanted in a girl—tall, beautiful (pin-straight honey blonde hair and clear blue eyes with creamy skin and cute freckles), slim, and brilliant—everything I wasn't. I bet he was wondering why he fell in love with me.
I couldn't watch it. I turned away as I felt my fingernails making tiny crescents as they dug into the curve of my palm. I bet her fingers were long and slender, unlike my bony, calloused ones. Bet she had all that fancy manicure pretty, elegant girls in movies seemed to have.
I felt something squeeze tightly in my chest and suddenly, I couldn't breathe. Quickly finding a route, I ran out of the house towards the only sanctuary I'm well acquainted with on this street—the bookstore.
I, with my indigo long-sleeved linen top and black slacks and my wine red stilettos, briskly walked to the grandiose bookstore a few blocks down. It didn't matter that I was exhausted from work—I wanted relief. Relief more than comfort. What I didn't expect was seeing someone I thought I'd never see again.
"Siccha?"
"Kaden."
"What are you doing here?" I asked in surprise. Kaden was relocated to Canada or something three years ago. My grin stretched wider and wider by the minute.
Kaden was still the same boy I remember, except that he isn't exactly a "boy" anymore—he's a man now. He still had his signature dark, slicked-back hair, light brown eyes, and sharp jawline. He also hasn't grown taller—much to my amusement. He was still five-foot-six.
Much to my amusement, he was in a white shirt, royal blue dinner jacket, and royal blue slacks similar to my smart casual get up. He looked like he was from the erudite faction in Divergent. Maybe he had a business trip?
Kaden smiled at me before looking away bashfully. Am I missing something? He opened his mouth then closed it again and a conflicted look stole in his eyes.
I was getting impatient.
"Spill!"
He took a deep, deep breath and let out the words I had been hoping for years to hear from him: "I need your help with Talia."
"So you're saying that you think you realized you liked Talia when you began to feel like someone was taking her away from you? Did I get that right?" I said, over a tall glass of milkshake I got from the bookstore cafe as we chatted.
He scrunched his eye brows up. "It sounds drastic when you put it that way."
I can't help but roll my eyes. "But it's true, see this is what you get for being a wimp. Does she know you're here?"
He froze. Then he blinked.
"Does she have to?"
I let out a curt sound of disbelief. You know what? It's either some people are so clueless, or some just love overthinking. Choose a side. But at this moment, I'm choosing the latter. I had a feeling there was more to it than he thinks.
"Kaden," I spoke slowly, as though I were speaking to a little kid, "Talia's first resort is to think that you came all the way here for me because that's how she is. Kidding. It's cuz I'm the first person you met up with even if it was by accident. You should've let her feel that you feel nothing for me first. People who are uncertain in relationships tend to jump to conclusions, you should anticipate that by now." He looked at me blankly before grunting.
Okay, ladies, when guys start speaking grunt, it's them hinting that they finally realize they may have screwed up and that they need a moment to think for their next monumental decision or their contingency plan.
So that's what I did—I shut up and gave him time to think.
Kaden took a few minutes to conjure up something to say: "Want my burger?"
I wanted nothing more than to smash his face onto the table that very second. What an idiot I'm dealing with!
After hours of contemplation (all one-sided, I must point out—there's not much I can do when the guy doesn't even know what he must), Kaden and I agreed to meet up when we find time to and discuss more of his sorry excuse of a love life—not that mine is any better. We parted ways and headed home.
A few steps away from home, I suddenly froze, remembering why exactly on Earth I decided to leave in the first place.
The blonde bombshell was there waving good-bye to my husband. A vile taste was left on my tongue as I thought of that and I couldn't help but survey the scene before me more closely. She was spewing words I couldn't hear, her plump brick-red lips curving up into a teasing grin, blue eyes shining with laughter. Her Lang 100 patent leather sandals (read undeniably expensive Jimmy Choos) complemented her already long modelesque legs, and her white Guess shirt tucked into Roberto Cavalli jeans did nothing to hide her slim figure. Her hair fanned out in an almost slow-mo manner when she turned away to get into her red Cadillac.
Meanwhile, the man was suave as always even in just a plain white shirt and jeans—he was barefoot even, but... wait, did they plan the matching outfits? Bet they even took some pictures. They'd definitely look like a couple in them.
"Hey," a voice said with a slight chuckle.
I jumped in surprise and I felt my eyes widen as I looked around me. I didn't realize I reached the porch already... I shook my head. Green must really not be my color...
Saul smiled boyishly at me. "You, uhhh, look really relaxed. Where'd you go?"
I blinked. "Um, cafe, yeah! Yeah, I went to the cafe."
Of course, he looked suspicious. I mean, I usually just come home straight from the office.
"Come on, Siccha," he said, hooking his arm around my neck playfully, "I got you something." It seemed like he didn't bother questioning me.
I wanted to see his face—see if he was excited about surprising me or not, but I really couldn't, so I bury the urge deep down and just follow him.
Saul walked into the kitchen and went straight to the freezer, taking out a container and presenting it to me calmly. yet proudly. He reminded me of what I must've looked like when I presented my parents gifts or something. I quickly glanced at what he got me and let out a squeal.
He laughed heartily and pulled me into a hug. "Hope it lightens your mood, Babe."
Back to the present, I didn't care anymore. Forget about his ex, he got me a whole tub of my favorite ice cream, and I don't think I'm in any position to complain.
"It did, Saul," I smile, wrapping him in a hug and poking his nose, quickly grabbing the tub and a spoon and running up the stairs. Saul chased me up the stairs into our room and we stumbled into a night full of cuddling, movie watching, and small talk.
Why did I ever get so insecure when this man never even leaves my side when it mattered?
He was exactly the kind of guy I prayed for. He respected me and he loved me. He always made me feel like I wasn't a perfect person, but never failed to let me know that I was the perfect one for him. I feel terrible, thinking that maybe at this point in our relationship, he loved me more than I did. For some reason, I felt guilt.
Instead of focusing on that guilt, I focused on sleep instead, not knowing that the guilt will find itself in-deep enough to change who I was in just a span of a few days.