Roses N Chocolates

PROMISE TOMORROW (Eiba Family Saga Book 2)

promise-cover-for-blogCHAPTER 9

 

Modele sat on her window pane, and gazed out into the garden at Toro and Mr. George. She felt guilty about her conduct earlier after knowing it was Toro’s fault and not his. But she was making up for it. If he didn’t see her invitation as such, there was nothing more she could do. She knew she had hurt him, but she was hurt too. She had taken out her aggression on him and that was not right but she couldn’t control much of these emotions.

Ever since Jude left her, she had not been able to concentrate on anything significant. Her job as a freelance legal editor had been on hold for several months. Already, she had lost one of her favourite columns in a law students’ magazine. Being a prolific and talented writer had gained her a lot of respect in her field but now her private life was interfering with the next most important thing in her life… after Jude. Even her hobby of writing children’s stories was suffering. Her latest novel was halfway through yet she couldn’t find the words to move on. Or the spirit.

A lone tear trickled down her cheek, partially blurring her vision of the duo. She swatted it away with steam. She had promised herself Jude was not worth a single tear drop if he could be so callous. But her heart ached desperately. Jude had taught her everything she knew. She remembered the first time he kissed her… touched her tenderly…

She hugged her waist and turned away.

“Oh!” A sob escaped from her lips as another tear rolled down, and another. “I won’t weep for you, Jude. I will never weep for you.”

She walked resolutely to her walk-in wardrobe. It was a tiny apartment with shelves and hangers and drawers. She looked through her collection. She had changed it twice in the few months since her dilemma. Most of the clothes had never been worn before. She wanted to wear something stunning. Something which when she entered the hall, had enough energy to turn heads.

The party was organized for one of her friends who’d just returned home after graduating from Cambridge University with distinctions. Maxwell had been described by his dean as a genius, and brains ready to explode. His proud parents had organized the home-coming party.

Max, as most of his friends called him, had been a mutual friend of Jude and Modele. Even though he had tried to win Modele’s heart before she met Jude, the trio had hung out together as undergraduates at Cambridge. Max had stayed on to continue with his Masters degree, and then a doctorate.

Shortly after he came home, he had called to sympathize with Modele over Jude and then asked her for a date. She had politely refused. She wasn’t ready to remain in that circle. Some of their old friends had also made passes at her with no luck. She had tried to detach herself from her old company, wildly making new ones. If today had not happened with Mr. George, she would not have even imagined herself going for the party. She knew Max would be surprised to see her even though he had personally invited her.

“I don’t need anybody,” she whispered as she spotted a leaf-green off-shoulder silk dress. She had worn the dress only once before when she was still with Jude and had sentimentally kept it. It was the only item in her wardrobe that survived the overhaul. It was a stunner alright, and she pulled it out and laid it on her bed.

She groaned. “Jude may be at this party…”

She didn’t think it was such a good idea to attend. He would disapprove of her short hair. She looked at the wigs she had purchased shortly after she cut her hair. Maybe she should wear one. She pulled a brown dread-locks wig from its stand and wore it. She looked just like Jude would have liked.

“I am not Jude’s wife!” She flung the wig from her head and across the room, covering her face with shaking hands. Heaving, she decided. She would attend. It was the only way to purge herself of these feelings. She would go with Mr. George. If he was presentable, she could even flirt with him a little. In public!

She chided herself. “I can’t believe I’m thinking this.” Flirt with a gardener in public? Had she gotten so desperate? She thought of all the young men who wanted to have a relationship with her, including the ones in church. Her Youth Fellowship swarmed of them, brothers who wanted more to do with her than exchange Bible verses. Many of them were sons of prestigious men. She wondered what they would think if they saw her flirting with her gardener. Though he didn’t look all that much like one.

She giggled. “They’ll think I’m backsliding in all respects.”

She wanted more to life than what she was getting. Not the money, not the fame, not her possessions, her cute cars, her big house. She wanted a man. A good man. A Christian. A God-fearing, dependable fellow who would love her with everything especially a promise for the future. Not for what she had but for who she was.

She went back to her window and gazed out at Mr. George, now alone. He was sweating as he worked. Modele noticed the way his muscles shifted as he moved his hands. He looked up then toward her window. It was far from him but it seemed just as though he was there in the room with her. She froze. What was in that look on his face? She stared back.

 

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