I'll handle it. That was all it read.
A simple sentence, but it left my mind swirling with questions. What did he mean? He'd take care of the media? Did he care? My curiosity piqued, but I couldn't bring myself to call him. Whatever his intentions were, I couldn't help but feel that he might be toying with me. And knowing Christian, I wouldn't put it past him.
The text lingered in my mind, but I managed to push it aside, forcing my mind to focus on something else. My resolve was clear, following through was a whole other thing. I almost dialed his number, my finger hovering over the screen when a knock on my door stopped me.
"Breakfast is ready." Clara called from the other side.
I let out a small sigh, running my hand over my hair in frustration, before heading to the bathroom. The water falling on my skin calmed me, unfortunately, it couldn't wash away the unease that had settled in my chest. When I emerged from the bathroom, I adorned myself with simple leggings and a blue top. There was no need to make any fuss over my appearance. After all, it was just breakfast. And I'd be eating alone.
I walked downstairs expecting a table set with food, but to my surprise, it was empty. I was about to call for Clara when I saw an elderly woman in uniform walk by the doorway.
"Excuse me, uhm, isn't this the dining area?"
Before the woman could respond, Clara appeared in the doorway.
"Christian's parents want you to have breakfast with them."
Christian's parents? I froze for a moment. Was that normal? Were the Gulf's so close with their staff that they felt comfortable addressing them by their first names? I wasn't sure what to think, but I didn't have much time to dwell on it.
"Quickly, now. You shouldn't keep your in-laws waiting." Her tone didn't hold the same politeness it did yesterday. There was no warmth in her voice. Or maybe I thought so because she wasn't smiling.
I refused to read any more meaning into it. Clara, who was wearing a fitted blue tracksuit set, disappeared just as quickly as she appeared. I turned to the elderly woman who had been patiently waiting by.
"Uhm…"
"Elizabeth ma'am." The elderly woman said when I faced her.
"Which way to the dining room?"
"Through this door, ma'am." She pointed to a door I hadn't noticed before. It was right beside the entrance to the living room, camouflaged against the wall. The handle was so flat it almost looked invisible.
"Thank you, Elizabeth." I offered a small smile.
She was about to walk away, but stopped. "I mean no disrespect, ma'am. But… what you're wearing…"
I scanned myself. I was presentable, wasn't I?
"Is there something wrong?"
"If you could change, it'll make breakfast less… uhm, uncomfortable." The kindness in her eyes as she said the words, I knew it was genuine advice.
"Thank you."
She nodded and then left. Within minutes I'd changed into a black long gown that hugged my curves and was on my way to the dining room. I wanted to change into something else again, but I already felt strange that I had to dress formally inside the house, and just to eat. It made me wonder what exactly I'd gotten myself into.
I was born in this world. And I'd seen Mrs Callisto be overbearing and cruel to our help. And sometimes she took it too far. I was used to seeing and hearing things that I hated. Even though I hate to admit it, it was a norm. I never thought I'd be on the receiving end of such treatment though. It was disorienting.
The way Ingrid Gulf glared at me when I stepped into the dinning room on their side of the house, she didn't bother to hide her disgust for me. I knew my very presence here offended her, but to be so open about it…
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the uncomfortable tension hanging in the air. Averting my gaze from her, I grabbed a chair, sitting as distant as I could without seeming rude.
"Is that far enough? Would you like to sit at the end, dear?"
She was who Christian got his cold eyes from. Christian's father had always been the easy one. He behaved oblivious to my presence.
"No ma'am." I changed my seating position, taking the chair opposite her. Christian's father sat at the head of the table.
"Where is Christian?"
The question caught me off guard. I thought she knew. There was no way she hadn't heard.
"Out." I simply said.
To my relief, she didn't press me for more details.
The long wooden table before me was a lavish spread, piled high with pastries, fresh fruits, frittata, vegetables, fried potatoes, everything you could imagine for breakfast. It was a feast.
I had no doubt that this was normal, but after four years of poverty, this looked too much like wastage.
Of course I said nothing that came to my mind. I grabbed a plate and was about serving myself when Ingrid cleared her throat. The sound sent a jolt of anxiety through me. My attention now on her.
"Tell her what you need." She was referring to one of the two people that were standing silently in the corner of the room.
I nodded. Putting down the plate.
My phone chimed just as I was about to make my food request.
'I liked the leggings better.' It was Christian.
'Are there cameras in the house? Why didn't you tell me?' Was my reply to his message.
Ingrid cleared her throat again.
"No phones at the table. You can talk to whoever later."
My stomach churned. There was no way my food would digest in the pressure of this cold atmosphere. So, I requested a little from the egg casserole and tried to swallow as much as I could.
My phone chimed again. Before I even thought of taking it, Ingrid's eyes rested on me. Her gaze lingering on me made my skin crawl.
I'd always thought she never liked me. And after yesterday, I was sure if I was drowning, she'd get popcorn and watch me as I went painfully.
Luckily for me, Mr and Mrs Gulf left the table before I was done with my meal, with no further question. I'd thought they'd bring up what happened yesterday, seeing that I was not the bride they'd expected.
When they finally left the room, I felt a slight sense of relief. I wasn't sure how much awkwardness I could take.
My phone chimed yet again, and when I pulled it out, I saw that Leah's message thread was just above a new message from Christian. I tapped on Leah's name and a series of messages were displayed on my screen. My eyes almost popped out of its sockets when I saw the first photo she'd sent.
Yesterday I was flustered. That's why I acted the way I did. This was the first thing she'd sent.
He's not the man you think he is. You'll never be enough for him.
I felt the blood drain from my face when the photo was the only thing now in my view. The picture was of Christian… no, it was of a younger Christian, standing on a beach with someone wearing a blue bikini beside him. His expression was unreadable, the breeze ruffling his hair. The ocean stretched out behind them.
I stared at the photo for a long time, my heart hammering in my chest.
'It can't be her.' I said to no one in particular.
I walked to our side of the house lost in thought. The image from Leah's message burning in my mind.
"Were you able to eat anything? Do you need anything?" Elizabeth asked as I entered my living room.
I shook my head at her. The way she looked at me made me feel small, as if she pitied me. I must have looked pitiable.
I hated it. Feeling so vulnerable and exposed because of Christian. That photo Leah had sent me was clearly from the past. Christian looked younger, more boisterous. In the other photos, he looked cheerful, happy in them. And so did she. They looked at each other, smiling giddily.
I slumped on my bed. Barely twenty-four hours after getting married, and it was already a rollercoaster.
Maybe it was all a cruel joke. Photoshop.
My body swung into a sitting position as realization hit me. Leah had sent this to torment me. Of course it wasn't real. She'd photoshopped the pic to mess with me.
As if on cue, Christian's name flashed on my phone screen, the call coming through just as I was about to respond to Leah.
"Are you going to keep ignoring me?"
I sighed. How easy would it be to just ask? But once again I was reminded of why I'd agreed to marry him. Why it would be foolish of me to allow this thing Leah had plotted weigh me down.
I would have explained that I simply forgot to reply to his message, and that I wasn't ignoring him, instead I let him think I did.
"No one is going to say mean things about you anymore, Mrs Gulf. It's been taken care of."
Hearing him call me Mrs Gulf, even though my brain was quick to remind me that this wasn't a real marriage, my heart still did a backflip. I smiled, happy for the privacy the room provided.
"No 'thank you'? I did something nice for you." He was teasing me.
"Thank you."
Once again I found myself thinking that maybe he wasn't so bad.
"I gotta go, wifey. Later."
The moment he hung up, I grabbed the MacBook he had gifted me three days before our wedding, searching for the mean headlines I'd seen earlier this morning. There was nothing. It was like the internet had been wiped clean of yesterday's events.