Leaked

Chapter 4

After the worst 3 hours of my life, Noah puts me in a car, and I’m driven home. He’s left there doing something. I don’t care what it is at this point.

The helpers look at me with eyes full of pity when I get to the house.

My phone has been ringing non-stop since the announcement. I finally settle in the living room, and when I open my phone, social media is going crazy about the news.

My mom calls me, and I spend the next 2 hours convincing them that the decision was not impulsive.

Nia texts me, and we spend the next many hours going back and forth over text. After we’re done, I delete the whole string of texts.

No new plan this time. The only plan is to save my marriage.

By the time I get up from the couch, it’s already dark outside. Noah has not come back. I drag my tired body around, doing nothing, but feeling busy.

“Well, hello, step mama,” I hear Rain’s voice say. He says as he descends the stairs. “Quite a show you put on earlier.”

I begin to walk away, but he follows me.

“What happened? Being a politician is no longer as lucrative as being my dad’s wife?” he asks again.

I don’t say anything back.

“We live under the same roof now. You might as well start talking to me,” he says.

“Rain…” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“I thought you would be with my dad tonight. Today was my mom’s death anniversary.”

He seems to notice my shock, so he continues.

“You didn’t know?” he asks.

“Where is he?”

“Probably went to see her parents, our grandparents. He does stuff like that during her anniversary,” he says, shrugging.

“What do you do for her anniversary?” I ask.

“Nothing much. I just spend the day with my sister,” he says.

“What was she like?”

The cocky look he always has on his face drops for a few minutes, but it’s back again like it never left.

“Why? So that you can copy her?” he asks.

“Good night, Rain.”

I head upstairs, and just then the front door opens, and Noah’s voice fills the house. He seems to have brought someone with him today.

I don’t turn. I keep walking until I get to the bedroom. I lock the door and head to the bathroom for a much-needed shower.

When I get back, Noah is in the room.

I don’t bother asking him where he got the keys. I get under the covers and go to sleep immediately.

A few moments later, I’m woken up by Noah getting in bed next to me. I try getting back to sleep, but I can’t. So I decide to go downstairs.

In the kitchen, Abby, Noah’s daughter, is there, having food while scrolling on t****k.

I grab a bottle of water and sit next to her, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“Did you make these vegetables?” She asks, startling me out of my thoughts.

“No. I’ve not cooked anything since I moved in,” I reply.

“If you do, try not to put too much pepper on them. Dad has a serious intolerance to spicy food,” she says, her eyes fixed on the phone.

The advice warms my heart. It makes me feel like she’s looking forward to me being here for longer.

“When you cook food he doesn’t like, he usually eats outside and get even more stomach upsets,” she adds, placing the phone down. “It’s better if he eats at home.”

“What do you like to eat?”

“Me?” She asks excitedly. “I love having eggs in every meal.”

“Do you love fruits?”

“Yes, yes, especially bananas. My mom loved fruits too,” she says.

“What else did she like?”

“Meats,” Noah’s voice says. I look up and see him leaning on the kitchen island. “What are you doing up at this hour? Don’t you have school tomorrow?” Noah asks Abby.

“Nope. Tomorrow is Saturday,” she says, and Noah face palms.

“But eating at this hour is unhealthy,” Noah says.

“I’m having vegetables,” Abby says, showing him her bowl. “I’m waiting for my favorite show to start,” she checks the time on her phone, then runs out of the kitchen with her food.

“She watches some late night show during weekend nights,” Noah says, sitting where Abby was sitting.

I sit quietly, not looking at him again.

“You probably hate me right now,” he says, and I continue in silence. “One day you’ll understand why I told you to do it. You have to trust me.”

“I do,” I finally say.

“Can we talk upstairs?” he asks, and I nod.

He leads, and I follow.

“Do you want to divorce me as well?” I ask once we settle down on the couch in our room.

“Do you want me to?” he asks.

“I asked first,” I reply.

“No, never even thought about it,” he says.

“So what is this marriage for?”

He looks at me for a few seconds and then sighs.

“For what marriages are supposed to be for,” he replies.

“What do you want me to do now? I can’t be sitting in the house all day doing nothing,” I say.

“Trust me, being my wife is enough work for you,” he says.

“Yes, but I want more,” I reply.

“Children?” He asks, and my eyes shoot up. “I wouldn’t mind,” he adds.

“That’s… that’s not a conversation for today,” I say quickly. Noah moves from his chair and squats before me so that our eyes meet.

“What do you want, Isla?” he asks.

“A reason to wake up excited every morning,” I reply.

“I've got a new job for you, but I want you to be honest with me. If you don’t like it, just say it, and I will find another for you,” he says.

“Okay,” I reply.

“I found a position for you in my charity organization,” he says.

Those few words bring back happiness in my heart I have not felt in a long time.

“I noticed how much you love giving, and I thought this is the best profession for you. Isla, you are a good politician, but not the best, and I think philanthropy is where you really shine,” he says, and before I know it, I hug him tightly.

“I take that as a yes?” he says, hugging me back and laughing.

I finally decide to ask him the question that has been sitting in my mind all afternoon. “What about my employees at the office?” I ask pulling away from the hug.

“You’ll bring some with you, and the rest, I will find something for them,” he says.

“Thank you. Thank you, Noah. I’ve not been the best to you, but thank you for being nice to me,” he lifts my face so that our eyes meet again.

“I have something else I want to suggest. It’s okay if you don’t want it,” he says.

“Okay?”

“Therapy. I want you to start therapy,” he says.

“I… I’ll think about it,” I reply quickly. “But I can’t believe you got me a position so fast at the organization.” He smiles and then gets up. He gives me his hand, and I take it. We stand so close to each other I can smell the oil he applied on his beard after showering.

“Promise me you’ll think about it,” he says, and I nod quickly.

“When should I start at my new job?” I ask, and he wraps his hands around my waist.

“Um… when do you want to start?” he asks.

“Anytime,” I reply.

“I suggest you work from home for now, you know, being newly married and all, and then, resume in the office next year,” he says, and I nod quickly.

“And,” he says smiling, “My office is just a walking distance from yours.”

“Such a big distraction,” I say, shaking my head.

“I agree,” he replies.

“Let’s create a bigger one,” he says.

“I don’t follow,” I reply.

Before I know it, he lifts me from the floor and carries me to the bed.

That night, whatever needed to happen, happened.

I wake up very early the next morning and get ready quickly before Noah gets up.

My plan is to make him breakfast.

My bubble bursts when I get to the kitchen and see Noah’s mom there.

“Ms Whitmore, good morning,” I say, surprised.

“It’s Lady Whitmore,” she says, and I nod my head quickly.

“Welcome. Welcome to our home,” she looks at me up and down, then back at the food she is preparing.

“Make yourself useful and start setting the table,” she says, handing me a towel.

And so I set the table.

Everyone starts waking up and coming to the dining table for breakfast, all excited to see Lady Whitmore. And from their interactions, I guess I am the only one she doesn’t like.

When Noah comes down, he sees his mom, and they have at least 30 minutes of hugging and crying.

One more person in Noah’s world who hates me, and I have to get them to like me. Great.

“How did you get here from the airport mom,” Noah asks, eating the food she dished for him excitedly.

“Taxi,” she says, serving everyone food but me.

Noah notices and serves me some.

“Mom, how do you like our new home?”

“I looove the flowers and the fountain. The decor is exactly what I would get if I lived alone,” she says, her eyes wide with excitement.

“All Isla’s ideas,” Noah says.

“I knew it,” Abby says.

“Oh,” Lady Whitmore says, sipping juice.

“What did you say you do again?” She asks me.

“I recently stepped away from my seat as the city’s mayor. I’m looking forward to better future endeavors," I reply.

“She got admitted to the bar at 24 years old, mom. That did not happen for me until I was 35,” Noah says, grabbing my hand.

“The greatest endeavor a woman can have is being the best mom to her kids and the best wife to her husband,” Lady Whitmore says.

“Sucks to be a woman,” Abby says.

“Hey, no, that’s not true,” Noah says immediately after. “Women can be great wherever they want to be great.”

I nod inwardly.

“Of course they can. They get more opportunities to climb to great levels through stepping on promiscuous men,” Rain says, his eyes fixed on me. Lady Whitmore notices and takes this as her cue to add fuel to the fire.

“That reminds me of an article I read about a certain man called Don? Do you know him, Isla?” Lady Whitmore asks.