WHY SHOULD I?
1004 Words
The next morning after Scarlett and Adrian encounter
Martha Monroe watched her daughter, Scarlett, lost in thought. For several minutes, she observed her in silence, hoping she would speak. But when the quiet stretched too long, she could no longer bear it.
Gently, she asked, “What’s on your mind, my daughter? What troubles you?”
Scarlett remained silent. She placed her hand on her cheek, thinking profoundly.
Martha sighed and continued.
“I promised myself that your happiness and growth would always be my priority. Since your father abandoned us when you were just four months old, it has been just you and me all alone here. I have stood by you through everything. I made countless sacrifices to ensure you have the life you deserve.
You lack nothing, yet I can see the weight you carry.
Tell me, my child, what burdens your heart?”
Oh, mama! How long have you been here?” Scarlett asked surprisingly.
Her mother has been there for more than fifteen years but she couldn't observe it.
Mum! Are there still rich good men out there?
“Hmmmmmmm……..” Mum muttered.
Martha studied her daughter’s face. She sensed the deep conflict behind her question. She took a slow breath before responding.
“My dear, why do you ask such a thing?”
Scarlett hesitated, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the table.
"Because… Last night, I met a man who seemed too good to be true—Adrian." She paused, searching her mother’s face for a reaction. "He was kind, thoughtful, and had this way of making everything feel… different. But Mama, I’m confused. Although he has not made his intentions known to me, I know one day he will.
This is my fear…
My ex-fiancé, Daniel Whitmore, appeared like a saint at first, but afterward, he turned into a thorn in my flesh.
See, Mum, good men are rare. Poor men might pretend to be good until they get their cakes. As for the rich rich ones, they are unpredictable.
They always have a price, don’t they?"
Martha’s lips curled into an acknowledged smile, but there was sadness and pain in her eyes.
“Scarlett, wealth does not define goodness, just as poverty does not guarantee kindness. A man’s heart is revealed in his actions, not in his bank account.”
Scarlett gasps softly. “I know, but it’s difficult to believe. I don’t want to be fooled again, Mama. Not after my past encounter with one of them.
I don’t want to think I have found something real and beautiful, only to realize I was just another fleeting interest.”
Martha extended a hand toward her daughter’s hand, squeezing it subtly. “Love, real love, is never built on doubt. It is built on patience, discernment, and trust. If Adrian is truly good, time will reveal it. Do not let fear push away something beautiful before it has a chance to grow.”
Scarlett nodded, but her eyes still held uncertainty.
“So, what do I do?”
Martha smiled, tucking a loose curl behind Scarlett’s ear. “You observe. You pray. That is the best option. First, allow him to come clear. Maybe he is just admiring you. Let him show you who he truly is.
If a man is worth your heart, my dear, he will prove it—not with words, but with consistent actions.”
Scarlett exhaled slowly, absorbing her mother’s wisdom. “I hope you are right, Mama.”
Martha chuckled softly. “I usually am.”
Scarlett managed a small smile and got up from bed.
Next thing…
She moved to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Her mind was still troubled.
To get relief, she decided to fry some eggs.
She held her hands onto the warm coffee cup, permitting the heat to seep into her fingers. She took a gradual sip as the rich, slightly sweet taste coated her tongue.
For a moment, she just stood there, staring at the pictures she had in her phone gallery.
“Mornings like this used to feel comforting. Now, they just felt quiet”. She murmured.
With a sigh, she set the mug down and pulled open the fridge to pick up some drinks. The cool air glanced off her skin as she scanned the neatly and appropriately arranged shelves.
Yogurt? No. She needed something warm, something that felt real. Her fingers closed around the egg carton.
She cracked the first egg against the rim of the glass bowl. The shell is splitting cleanly. The second egg wasn’t as neat as she expected. The tiny fragments clung to her fingers, forcing her to fish them out.
She whisked with quick, steady strokes, watching the yolks blend into a smooth golden mix. A pinch of salt. A dash of pepper. A handful of spinach, torn into smaller pieces.
The pan hissed when the eggs hit the surface, the scent of butter rising in the air.
Scarlett tilted the handle slightly. She allowed the mixture to spread. As the edges set, she reached for the spatula, folding the omelet in one fluid motion.
She plated the food and grabbed a fork, slicing it into the fluffy center. Steam curled into the air. She had the first bite. It was soft, warm, and seasoned. She chewed slowly, her mind drifting until her phone rang again.
Scarlett flicked her gaze toward the counter.
Naomi.
She took another bite. Another buzz.
Her jaw tightened.
With a deep breath, she finished eating. She took the plates to the sink and rinsed her plate; she wiped down the counter immediately.
Afterward, she reached for her phone and glanced at the screen.
Without hesitation, she pressed the power button and set it down.
No words. No response.
Naomi called again.
She picked.
But only dropped a simple statement. “See me in the office.”
Grabbing her bag, she walked out of the kitchen. Work was waiting.
And right now, that was the only thing that made sense.
- Writer
