Chapter7
1074 Words
ALEXANDER'S POV
My chest rose and fell as I heaved a sigh of relief, though a pang of guilt remained, I had deeply hurt her.
I waited for Mirabelle to leave, though, before calling, I couldn't risk causing a scene. Just as my parents thought, Mirabelle had a knack for theatrics; they thought she was crazy, and to be honest, they weren't wrong.
I had just finished preparing for the office when I got another notification that Mirabelle had used my card again.
I clenched my teeth in anger and yelled in frustration. Was there a limit to this reckless spending of hers? And here I was about to add another woman to the cart.
"Don't use my card again," I warned when she took my call.
"But baby I needed that."
"Mirabelle, do not use my card again; if you continue this way, I might go bankrupt before the end of the year."
"Okay, fine, I will just get a Birkin bag, and that will be it for the day."
"Mirabelle, you have more than ten birkin bags; what do you need another one for?"
"Oh baby, stop being old-fashioned," she said, and the line went dead.
Old fashioned huh? That's what it is right?
The drive to the office was quite normal; my driver had gotten a new pair of glasses, so he kept admiring himself in the mirror every five seconds.
"You are gonna get us killed if you continue staring at that mirror," I said casually; he smiled in response and adjusted the glasses.
"They are nice, where did you get them?"
"Mira got them for me; she got them back yesterday; they are foreign, and they will look good on you."
I grunted in response, already regretting why I engaged him the first time. He hated Mirabelle; I didn't blame him, though; he turned to a houseboy whenever she was around.
I found myself glancing over my phone almost every second.
The weight of everything that had happened for the past few hours settled over me as I recalled the events one after another; a lot had happened and more were to happen.
Not again, I muttered when I glanced at my phone for the umpteenth time and shoved it into my pocket.
"Can I Come in?" A tiny voice called out from outside after knocking, I deliberately ignored her, hoping she would knock again, but when I didn't hear anything, I rushed to the door and opened it. She stood at the door innocently fiddling with her phone.
"You heard me the first time didn't you?" She asked feigning annoyance.
"No not really."
"Then why did you come out now?"
"I...I was...." I stammered, looking for a reasonable excuse as to why I had kept her waiting.
"That's okay, can we get going now?" She rolled her eyes.
"Of course," I replied and called my driver.
"Your glasses are beautiful," she exclaimed immediately when she saw my driver; he giggled in response, smiling so broadly that I feared it might get to his ears.
He was so pleased with her compliment that he pleaded with her to sit in the passenger seat at the front with him.
I felt so left out in the conversation they didn't even notice.
Our first stop was a boutique.
"This is so beautiful," she exclaimed at every dress, twisting her waist in circular motions.
She looked so pretty in all the dresses, but a particular blue stone dress wowed me.
It clung perfectly to her hips; I turned away immediately to avoid embarrassing myself with a funny reaction.
"How about this? Look," she called out to me and I was forced to turn again.
"It's Beautiful."
"Thank you so much," she squealed in excitement, twirling and doing a little twerk dance in front of the mirror.
I smiled. She was acting like a kid who opened a big birthday presence.
"I will take three," I heard her say to the shop assistant there.
"Why? Thought you liked all of them?"
"Yes I do, but I'm okay with these ones."
"Take everything."
"What! Why? I've still got other things to buy."
"Rubby take everything," I ordered
"Thank you so much."
I furrowed my brows in confusion wondering why she said thank you. Mirabelle never did that, she always took it as her due.
Her dresses were packed, and we moved to the next section where we got stuff for the new year: Lights and gloves.
"Why is this so expensive? It's just a glove," she asked when she read the price on the tag.
I watched her drop the glove and pick another model. Mirabelle would never do that; she would instead look for something more expensive; it was one of the reasons my parents hated her.
Last year when she met my parents, she had complained about the couch in the living room, claiming it wasn't luxurious enough for her type of person.
"Let's go to the candy store," she said after picking up the lights and gloves.
"Candy? For what?"
"Just follow me," she said laughing.
I opened my mouth in shock when I saw her collecting packs of candy.
"What the hell are you using all of that for?" I asked genuinely curious.
"You will see, just come with me."
"Hey, I got something for you," she said handing a bag to my driver, who almost jumped in excitement. He liked her already.
Our next stop was the city's orphanage.
"She's here," one of the kids shouted, and more than twenty children ran out to hug her, almost knocking her over in excitement.
She brought the candy out and started distributing it to them.
"Aunty Ruby, did you come with your fiance?" One of the kids asked innocently.
"What! No! He is my friend," she burst out laughing.
"He is so handsome, you should marry him."
"Oh my goodness," she laughed out loud. It was contagious, I joined in the laughter this time.
"Play with us, please; carry me on your shoulders," one of the kids pleaded with me.
"Come here," I said lifting the child onto my shoulders.
The others scattered shouting, "Catch us if you can!" I found myself running after them, laughing harder than I had in years as the child on my shoulders squealed in delight.
Rubby joined us, and so did my driver, for the first time in a long time, I felt so happy.
- Writer
