AN IDEA TO TAKE A WALK
1535 Words
Later on Monica stepped out of the bathroom, wrapping a soft white towel around her body. Her damp black hair clung to her back as she walked toward the large wardrobe at the corner of the room. The air was still warm from her shower, and a faint scent of roses from the soap lingered in the air.
She pulled the wardrobe doors open, expecting a simple closet, but instead, she gasped in surprise.
Inside was an entire walk-in space, nearly as large as her old bedroom back in Avana. The walls were lined with rows of girly clothes, all neatly hung on golden racks. Dresses, skirts, tops, and coats of various colors and fabrics were displayed as if she were inside an expensive boutique. On the other side, shelves were filled with shoes—heels, flats, boots—every style she could think of. The air smelled faintly of lavender, and the lighting was soft and warm, giving the space an elegant glow.
Monica stood frozen, her blue eyes wide in disbelief. This can’t be mine…
Before she could process it further, a sudden knock at the door startled her.
“Monica?” Her mother’s voice followed, and the door creaked open.
Monica turned around just in time to see Mrs. Williams step inside, wearing a calm smile.
“How was your morning, sweetheart?” her mother asked gently.
Monica hesitated for a moment, still overwhelmed. “Uh… it was good,” she mumbled.
Her mother raised an eyebrow, noticing the confusion on Monica’s face. “Are you sure? You look like something’s bothering you.”
Monica sighed, glancing back at the wardrobe before looking at her mother. “Mom… I think I’m in someone else’s room.”
Mrs. Williams frowned. “What do you mean?”
“These clothes.” Monica gestured toward the wardrobe. “They’re not mine. And the shoes too. Did someone forget to take their things out before we moved in?”
Her mother chuckled softly. “Oh, sweetheart, those are yours.”
Monica’s blue eyes widened. “Mine?”
Mrs. Williams nodded. “Yes. jasper asked me ur sizes and he had them ordered for you this morning. The maids put them in your wardrobe while you were still asleep.”
Monica’s jaw dropped slightly. “He bought all of these?”
Her mother smiled. “Of course.i think he wanted you to wear some city clothes so u wouldn't be left out when u decide to take a stroll around the hood.You couldn’t keep wearing the same few outfits from Avana.”
Monica looked back at the wardrobe, still unable to believe it. “But, Mom, this is too much. I don’t need all these…”
Mrs. Williams placed a gentle hand on Monica’s shoulder. “just accept them, sweetheart .”
Monica bit her lip, still uncertain, but she didn’t argue further.
Her mother then took a deep breath. “Now, there’s something else we need to discuss.”
Monica’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What?”
Mrs. Williams sighed. “Your father and I have decided—you’re going to start high school here in the city.”
Monica’s expression immediately changed. “What? No!”
“Monica—”
“No, Mom, I don’t want to!” she protested, stepping back. “I don’t know anyone here! I don’t want to go to some fancy city school!”
Her mother remained patient. “I know it’s scary, but—”
“I liked my school back home,” Monica interrupted, her voice rising. “I had friends. I had John. Everything was normal. Why do I have to start over?”
Her mother gave her a sympathetic look. “Sweetheart, I understand. But you need to continue your education.”
“But why now?” Monica groaned, crossing her arms. “Can’t I have some time to adjust first?”
Mrs. Williams gently cupped Monica’s face. “The sooner you start, the sooner you’ll settle in. I promise, you’ll be okay.”
Monica sighed, her shoulders slumping. She knew her mother had already made up her mind.
Seeing her daughter’s frustration, Mrs. Williams smiled warmly. “At least give it a chance. Please, for me?”
Monica hesitated for a moment before mumbling, “…Fine.”
Her mother’s face lit up, and she placed a soft kiss on Monica’s forehead. “That’s my girl.”But as her mother left the room, Monica sat on the bed, staring at the wardrobe full of clothes that suddenly didn’t feel like hers.
She was going to high school in the city—whether she liked it or no.
Monica sat on the edge of her bed, her arms wrapped around her knees as she stared blankly at the floor. The idea of going to school tomorrow consumed her thoughts.
She didn’t want to go.
She didn’t want to walk into a classroom full of strangers, be the “new girl” everyone whispered about, or have to start over without John by her side.
“What if I don’t fit in?” she wondered.“ What if they don’t like me?”
She groaned and ran her fingers through her black hair, frustration bubbling inside her. No matter how much she wanted to, she knew she couldn’t escape this. Her parents had already made the decision.
Letting out a deep sigh, Monica stood up and walked to the wardrobe.Her fingers brushed over the fabrics before settling on a soft pink short dress.
She hesitated.
The dress was elegant, more fashionable than anything she was used to wearing. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it—it was just… too much. Too perfect. Too different from her usual simple style.
Still, she pulled it off the hanger and slipped it on.
Walking over to the full-length mirror, she examined herself. The dress fit her perfectly, hugging her slender frame. The soft pink color complemented her clear skin and made her blue eyes stand out even more.
She tilted her head slightly.
It looks good… but it doesn’t feel like me.
With a small sigh, she grabbed a pair of white sandals and slid them on. She then reached for a hairband and tied her long black hair into a messy bun, a few strands falling loosely around her face.
She finished and she sat on the bed and picked at the bread, eating slowly. Her mind was still clouded with thoughts of school, and she didn’t have much of an appetite.
After finishing what she could, she stood up and walked to the window. The sun was bright, and the fresh morning air called to her.
Maybe a walk will help clear my mind.
Without a second thought, she grabbed her small purse, slung it over her shoulder, and stepped out of her room. She walked through the quiet halls of the mansion, downstairs and finally reached the door that led outside .As she walked out, she noticed Jasper standing near the grand fountain in the front garden. His black suit was as neat as ever, his posture straight and composed.
“Jasper,” Monica called, approaching him.
He turned to her with a polite smile. “Yes, Miss Monica?”
She hesitated for a moment before asking, “Are there any bicycles in here?”
Jasper nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. “Indeed, Miss. Would you like one?”
Monica blinked, surprised. “I—well, yeah… I guess.”
Jasper didn’t hesitate. He turned to one of the maids who was tending to the flowers nearby. “Maria, please bring a bicycle for Miss Monica.”
The maid gave a small bow. “Right away, sir.” She hurried off toward the garage.
Monica crossed her arms, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her eyes flickered back to Jasper. “Jasper… can I ask you something?”
“Of course, Miss.”
She hesitated, then said, “Who was Uncle Gerik? I mean… I don’t even know him. Why did he leave all of this to us?”
Jasper's expression softened slightly, as if he had expected this question. “Gerik was a man of mystery, even to those who knew him well. He was intelligent, kind, but… distant. He always valued family, though he kept to himself. I believe he left you all of this because he wanted his home to remain with blood relatives.”
Monica lowered her gaze, digesting his words. “I see…”
Jasper studied her for a moment before speaking again. “Miss Monica, you are a strong young lady. The city will challenge you, test you, and at times, it may feel overwhelming. But do not let it change you. Remain the Monica from Avana, no matter what judgments you face from others.”
Monica looked up at him, a bit startled by his words. There was something deep in his voice, something almost… protective.
Before she could respond, Maria returned, pushing a sleek bicycle toward them. “Here you go, Miss,” she said with a smile.
Monica smiled back. “Thank you, Maria. And thank you, Jasper.”
Jasper simply gave a small nod.
- Writer
