Life unusual
816 Words
It was a breezy afternoon, just like every other day since the new year. Sandra sat on her favorite steel chair, in her favorite spot, five meters away from the fountain.
It had been a while since she felt weary, but today, unlike other days, the breeze was a little colder and the sky a little dimmer. She felt a chill, but she wouldn’t blame herself. It was the same weather the day her mom, Marie-Clair, passed away after her decade-long illness.
It had been a month since Sandra last saw her dad, Mr. Grande, a tall, cold, handsome man in his late forties. His looks made it hard for people to believe he was Sandra’s father, especially since Sandra was a beautiful woman in her early twenties. But after Marie-Clair’s death, Mr. Grande had become a shadow of his former self, cold and distant to everyone, even to Sandra, his once-adored princess.
Life had become a still, monotonous road for Sandra. She had just finished college, but her father demanded she return home. She’d fought against it, trying to find job opportunities in New York. Sadly, her father’s influence was strong enough to frustrate her every attempt, as no company dared to hire her due to threats from Mr. Grande.
Sandra kept staring at the empty yard, the running birds, and the countless trees, leaves, and flowers. It would have been a beautiful sight, if only she hadn’t seen it a thousand times. She clutched her pearls as sharp but light raindrops hit her skin. The weather was dim because it was about to rain, Sandra thought, smiling—what a clever thought. (Sarcasm.)
She was stuck in an internal dialogue: should she head inside, where the overwhelming loneliness awaited her, or remain in the open air, even if it meant the rain would beat her mercilessly? She chose the latter. She smiled as the raindrops made contact with her skin; she had grown to love the feeling. Her smile reached from ear to ear, and her heart swelled with a long-buried sense of freedom and happiness.
Then, she heard her name.
“Sandra.” The voice could never be mistaken—it was so cold and piercing. It was her father’s.
“God,” she muttered under her breath. When had he come back? The most beautiful moments had a way of turning into nightmares.
Her sadness crept back in.
“Get inside. Now!” Mr. Grande shouted.
Sandra would have flinched if it had been the first time hearing his roar. But sadly, she was Sandra Grande, and she’d heard it a million and one times.
She shrugged her shoulders and headed toward the sad, gloomy, and empty mansion, rolling her eyes dramatically.
“Empty,” or so she thought.
Mr. Grande stood powerfully at the balcony, never lifting his gaze from her. He remained there until she entered the house, watching his daughter with a cold, intense, but soft gaze.
Sandra walked inside, expecting nothing but cold stares from her father and frightened servants. She hoped the journey to her room would be as swift as possible. Sandra snapped out of her thoughts when she saw two faces staring intensely at her. She almost slapped herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
The tall, bright woman took deliberate steps toward her, and it was enough to convince Sandra that this was real.
A tall, devilishly handsome man stood still, staring at her intently. He didn’t make a move to interact with her. It couldn’t be a daydream—his features were too heavenly to imagine.
The woman made her way to Sandra and, shockingly, hugged her. Sandra gasped.
The woman didn’t care as she pulled Sandra into a very tight embrace.
"I finally met you," she said.
"I’m Lily Grover, your dad’s fiancée," she added.
Blood drained from Sandra’s face as she was left flabbergasted, shaken to her core. The only word she managed to mutter was,
"How?"
Lily smiled and stroked Sandra’s face.
Lily was a beautiful young woman in her mid-thirties. Her striking ginger locks and vivid green eyes were her most noticeable features. She seemed soft and nice, but an overwhelming mix of anger, sadness, spite, and confusion filled Sandra’s mind.
Sandra took a step back, not acknowledging Lily. Instead, she stared angrily at her father, Mr. Grande, who had just entered the living room from the balcony.
"How?"
"Why?"
Sandra’s voice trembled as tears formed and dropped from her eyes.
Without hesitation, Sandra bolted upstairs to her room—a safe haven.
To think, just a few minutes ago, she had chosen the merciless rain over her lonely room.
Sandra reached her room, locked the door, and fell onto her bed, crying. Her sobs were drowned out by the thundering rain outside. In the background, faint sounds of her father’s voice calling her name echoed through the house.
- Writer
