Loving The Flame

Chapter Nine

Alora's face is twisted in a mask of shock and bewilderment as she leans heavily on the podium; her energy seems to drain from her body, and her muscles are tense and trembling. Her body is a symphony of tension and emotion as she fights to maintain her composure. Her arms are tense as they grip the edges, her fingers digging into the wood. Her breathing is ragged and strained, and her chest is heaving with each heavy inhale and exhale. Her lips are parted in a mixture of surprise and fury, drying out from the rush of air passing through them. The taste of nervousness and fear coats her tongue, leaving her lips dry and parched. It's as if she's been chewing on bitter herbs. Her eyes are wide, glistening with unshed tears as she blinks rapidly to hold them back, a physical manifestation of the internal battle raging within her. On her face, a mix of fury and disbelief plays out like a raging storm, her features contorted with emotions. It is a scene of turmoil and intensity, captured in the raw.

The eager media personnel and audiences are waiting for her to start her opening speech, but her eyes are jumping from one to the other as if her words would miraculously emerge from amongst them. Unlike other days, the video light and camara flashes seem to bother her. In addition to that, Jen’s voice that is pouring into her ear is sounding like a senseless echo of banter coming from an empty room—like a scream or a wake-up call. And her own heavy breathing is louder than her thoughts or where her focus should be.

She looks at Luna, who is standing amongst the crowed in Liam’s embrace, who is staring at her in a mischievous smile, and she slowly turns to her right, only to see Olivia and Isabel preparing to take over the speech from her.

She clenches her hands in a fist, turning her knuckles white. She then turns her attention back to the crowd, but her eyes suddenly catch Mr. Anderson in the distance, at the back of the crowd and by the corner. It's clear he doesn't have the intention to avert any type of attention towards himself, but she can clearly perceive his concern about her at the moment.

This is a make-it-or-break-it moment, and she should deliver what's expected of her; she should think past her anger or the audacity Liam is playing at her. With a delicate touch, she extends her hand towards the slender microphone in front of her, a sad smile forming on her lips as her gaze remains fixed on Christopher.

"Apologies," she murmurs, her voice slightly strained as she shifts her gaze downward. If she fails to create a solution that can reverse the situation, this could potentially jeopardise her current position within the company.

***

This is a time I need friend support, but the support I'm looking for is from my competition. I can clearly feel the energy coming from Olivia, and though she is my friend, she has been unfriendly. She has been acting a bit too much. After all, we are competing against each other, but the truth is, I can feel there's something she seems to want to hide from me. Her winter grey eyes seem to rather look at other things than me when we are around. Her thin lips are frequently liked, as she tries to rather withhold her teeth. This competition for my chair makes it clear that she regrets ever applying on my behalf.

The only person I speak with is Mr. Anderson or Jen, my assistant. And with Mr. Anderson Our interactions lack the warmth of friendship, often feeling tense and prone to conflict, as if it's an inevitable part of our dynamic. Since our lunch date, I've been putting in a lot of effort, juggling both my modelling career and my business ventures. I discreetly began enrolling in online courses to enhance my professional expertise.

This week has been a tempest with thunderstorms rattling my bones, but the cause I'm fighting for is a harbour for my weary soul. I am working on an event that I can easily connect with: a fund-raising event for an orphanage centre. It's been a stress-relieving programme for me. I feel the weight of my troubles lift, and the warmth of pure love takes its place. Ever since I visited the place, it's been clear to me that spending time with the children is more relaxing than being in the fickle arms of a frenemy.

"It's actually quite manageable," my mom assures me over the phone.

“I know it is for you.” I grin, making my way to the window to gaze upon the bustling city. I am currently in my office, diligently working on a file related to an upcoming event for the international tour guide chain. I felt a rush of joy when my phone started ringing and my mom's name appeared on the screen. Having conversations with her has been a lifeline for me; she was the one who recommended that I enrol in courses to enhance my professional skills.

“What is it?” she asks me, and I clear my hair back with my fingers pushing through my scalp. “I know you. You can’t keep anything from me; did Olivia say anything to you?” she asks.

“Just wonder, that’s all,” I say as I walk back to my seat and sit staring at my computer. “You know, I was there yesterday.”

“Where?” I can tell her concern in her voice.

“Safe heaven,” I answer, and I can hear her exhale. “It was the best therapy for the loneliness I am feeling.”

“I am always here for you. Me and your father,” she says, and I smile, nodding.

“I never doubt that. But with everything that’s been going on, it feels like the world is against me,” I explain my part. “I think I am fighting to maintain a spot in a place where I am not wanted.” I exhale.

“It’s impossible for anyone to not want you,” she says, making me smile and filling me with joy from her unwavering affection.

"What was it like?" I inquire, and a hush ensues. "When we first meet?" I position my phone on a speaker and rest it on the desk, eagerly listening to her. I can't fathom why I never inquired about it earlier, and I'm equally perplexed as to why I now feel a sudden urge to hear it.

"It was as if," she begins, and I can envision her gently shutting her eyes as she delves into her recollection. That's her demeanour when discussing past events. "Everything I've ever desired in life was right within my reach. I recall the sight of you in a blush pink dress, your hair styled in a charmingly tangled pigtail," I reminisce, and she responds with a soft chuckle. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes and a lump forming in my throat. “While other children eagerly approached us for candy, you were engrossed in playing with your toy,” she remarks. I can't help but smile, reminiscing about that one doll that brought me comfort when I was a child, but I hardly recall anything from the orphanage since I was here until I was four years old.

“That creepy rag doll!” I giggle.

“You were deeply in love with that,” she says, and a momentary silence takes over. “I didn’t even see your face. All I could see was your back, and I knew you were my girl. I was meant to be your mother. You can say it was a mother’s instinct,” she says, and suddenly I lost control of my tears.

“I miss you, mom,” I utter, hoping to hide that I am crying.

"Oh, love,” she says. “You are everything I ever need in life; your tears hurt every fibre of my being,” she says.

“I’m not crying.” I swallow hard and wipe my tears off my cheeks. “I just miss you, that’s all.” I inhale and smile as if she can see me.

“We can come visit you,” she suggests.

“I’d love that, but let me arrange a time that I can spend with you.”

“We’ll be waiting,” she says with her soft voice, comforting me.

“I love you, mom.”

“I love you. My dear, beautiful daughter.” I hang up the phone and break down in tears. Somehow, her words touched me deeper than ever before, almost as if they were the only thing I was left with in this world. I clear my throat and shake my head to knock myself out of the moment. After all, I am in the office, and I need to keep my emotions reserved for when I am in a private moment.

I seat myself back to work and try to stay focused on what is in hand. My body is a fragile boat on stormy seas, but I anchor myself with deep breaths and determination. As I stare down at the daunting task at hand, Jen enters my office with so much energy. It was clear that the door was slightly open, and I had forgotten about it, but that is a clear signal for anyone to enter. She holds a lifesaving life preserver: my perfectly crafted opening speech for the imminent fundraising event, which will start on Friday, the day after tomorrow.

“Your speech is ready,” she rushes to my desk as she hands the paper over to me. The scent of fresh ink coming from paper as she hands over the sheets fills the air as the distinct aroma of printer ink mixes with the subtle sweetness of paper. “Here are key parts you need to mention, and this is what you need to practice,” she says as she hands me a paper after the other, and I nod as I right away start looking at the paper. As I scan the words on the paper, I can almost taste the nervous anticipation in the air. It's a mix of excitement, fear, and determination.

***

I hate this feeling before delivering a speech. I hate it because it never gets old. I am nervous as I walk into a building that has been purchased by the Andersons—another empire that will be under the control of the Anderson’s Empire family business. It’s a small building, but it's dedicated to restaurants, clubs, and family dining. This may not be the first time for me to be here, but I am the first to enjoy a good lunch with stressful news for the first time, and the public here today is here for the first time.

I am not only going to open the fundraising programme but also to announce the opening of the place to the public for the first time as well. I am here as the one stone that hits the two birds. I'm wearing a vibrant yellow bodycon dress, with my hair elegantly styled in a sleek, straight look. My golden pair of shoes go perfectly with the handbag in my hand. I may appear self-assured, but deep within me, a storm is brewing, causing inner unrest that I struggle to calm.

Jen follows me as Isabela and Olivia, along with their assistants, walk behind us. It's evident that their presence is meant to address any potential gaps resulting from even the smallest errors I may commit. They both appear impressive, yet there was a noticeable silence among us, as if we were all harbouring secrets that kept us on edge. We may appear as united forces within the company, but the reality is that we are armies of the company who are fighting for that one throne that I am currently sitting on.

Media personnel are already waiting for our arrival at their place, and the spotlight is already on the podium. There are other officials who are attending this event who are taking the front seats and are all dressed like summer breathe and bright as well as classy. Despite the light laughter, I can feel the fear in the air and the tense energy that I emit from my body. Everyone that walked into the building with me stands behind me on my right, and I clear my throat as I place my speech paper on the podium before me.

“Good day, ladies and gentlemen,” I utter, leaning closer to the mic that’s attached to the podium. “This is an honour for me to stand out here in front of all of you. I would like to thank you all for joining us on this day, our esteemed media personnel." As I refer to them, I look to the back, where the media personnel are duelling by, looking at me eagerly as some are waiting to ask me questions after I am done with my speech. “And our esteemed guests.” I look at the three front rows since I am referring to our guests. “I...” I couldn’t believe what my eyes caught among the guests that were looking at me. I can expect anything, but this catches me off guard, and I don’t know how to react to it. “I..." I clear my throat and swallow nothing down my throat.

I sense a depletion of my energy, as I am currently unable to articulate my frustration. The audacity is striking, and I find myself at a loss for words, even though I have a paper with words in front of me on the podium. I understand that this is intentional, and unfortunately, I am failing at it. I rest my weight on the podium, gripping it tightly as I struggle to regain my composure and catch my breath. Frustration and disappointment threaten to overwhelm me.

Liam is among the crowd, his right arm around Luna’s shoulder. And though I can see her shock on her face, she is still by his side and under his embrace. He is hurling a mischievous smile that highlights a message directly to me. I can clearly understand that he wants me to fail. I slowly turn around to my right, only to see that both Isabela and Olivia are preparing to take over this spot light.

I gradually shift my gaze towards the crowd, observing each and every person. I need to gather my thoughts, and out of the blue, my gaze is drawn to the corner of the hall, where it dawns on me that Mr. Anderson is standing. I suddenly straightened my posture and lifted my chin as if I had just witnessed something remarkable.

"Please, say something." Jen's voice suddenly became audible in my right ear through the earpiece, causing me to shake my head slightly as I tried to suppress a smile. "If you're not feeling well, I can send one of the girls up on stage," she suggests, leading me to take a deep breath and hold it in.

I gently bring the mic closer to me, taking a moment to clear my throat before letting out a chuckle. I glance at Mr. Anderson with a sense of regret, as it's evident that I am letting him down. I gulp nervously, my eyes locked on him.

"Apologies," I hardly voiced my feelings, but I cast my gaze downward, overwhelmed by a wave of sadness from the event. "I..." I shake my head, and I once again look up, but my gaze is drawn to Mr. Anderson, who stares at me with a look of concern. "I’m so sorry," I utter, and I pull the earpiece out of my right ear, sighing.