ALMOST DESTROYED
1584 Words
The moment my phone rang, I already knew who it was, my best friend Priscy had been calling nonstop since morning, asking for every little detail about the wedding planning because she wasn't in town to roam with me.
"Babyyyyyy bride!", she screamed as soon as I picked up the call. I burst into laughter.
You're crazy! Calm down before you tear my eardrum.
Calm down for what? My friend is getting married ! Emmy I swear I haven't slept since I traveled. I can't wait to get back. How are things going? Dress fitting? Venue? Food? Did Daniel annoy you today? Tell me something.
Her excitement was soo contagious that I found myself grinning like a fool.
Don't use me as an excuse to leave the conference you never wanted to go. Everything's fine. I'm on my way for my dinner outfit fitting. I'll send you pictures-
Just then, the driver stopped Infront of the designer's shop and hurried to open the door for me.
Priscy,hold on, I said gathering my bag. I've reached, let me call you when I'm done.
She groaned dramatically. Fine,fine. Go and become a beautiful bride. Bye,madam.
I laughed and hung up, stepping out of the car. The familiar cool air from the designer's studio hit my face as I walked in. The place always smelled like fresh fabric and expensive perfume. We had barely started taking my upper-body measurements when my phone rang again. I rolled my eyes playfully.
Your friend again?; the designer asked.
My event planner is calling.
The tone of her voice alone made my stomach clench.
Emmy...we have a situation.
My heart dropped. What situation?
It's the pastry chef. She cancelled.
I blinked. Cancelled what?
She- . The planner paused as if trying to choose the least ridiculous version.
She won a lottery trip to Dubai. And her travel date is the same day as your wedding.
I froze. So she's ditching my wedding...for tourism?
I'm afraid so.
I shut my eyes tightly. Does she know who my husband is?Tell me you're joking.
I wish I was.
A sharp frustration shot through me.My wedding was supposed to be private, discreet,stress-free...not this circus.She should be glad we chose her.My fiancé is one of the influencial business moguls in the country,and she thought it wise to cancel just like that.
I ended the call quickly before my voice cracked and immediately dialed another friend. Hello? Please do you know any pastry chef we can trust? Someone who won't bail or leak my wedding to the whole country?
In the middle of my rant, the studio door opened.
Daniel walked in, still in his work suit—tie slightly loosened, tired but handsome as ever. He spotted me, still arguing on the phone, and walked straight to me. Without a word, I stretched my free hand toward him. He took it gently and kissed it, brushing his thumb over my knuckles.
His eyes searched mine, concern written all over his face.
I hurriedly ended my call. Baby… the pastry chef cancelled.
He blinked. Cancelled? Why?
Because she suddenly discovered she has an expensive taste for Dubai vacations, I snapped.
Daniel burst into laughter—full, deep, annoying.
I glared. It’s not funny.
He straightened immediately, though a smile still threatened. Okay, okay. I’m serious now. I’m sorry. Tell me everything.
I did, arms folded, pacing like a madwoman. When I finished, he just shook his head. Who sends you to choose a pastry chef who wins lotteries anyhow?
Before I could reply, the fashion designer cleared her throat dramatically.
Erm… Emmy dear, she said, placing her tape around her neck. I might be able to help.”
Daniel and I turned at the exact same time. Our faces must have said the same thing because she burst into laughter.
No, I’m not saying I can bake, she clarified quickly. Please, I’m not about to embarrass myself. I know someone.”
Someone? I asked suspiciously.
She’s the one I buy fresh meat pies from every morning. I give them to my son for school snacks. Her pastries are heavenly. I’ve been eating from her for years, and she has never disappointed me.
Daniel raised a brow at me. I stared back at him, silently asking, Should we trust this?
He gave a small nod. Try her. But we taste her food first.”
I sighed in relief. My after wedding party plan was almost destroyed.
_______________________________________
Elsa's mom had just finished wiping down the kitchen counter when her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and instantly brightened. The fashion designer?she muttered to herself before answering.
Hello, madam! Good evening!she greeted cheerfully. Elsa watched from the living room as her mother's face slowly stretched into disbelief and excitement
Yes, yes, I'm listening... ahh, you need pastries now? Her mother's hand flew to her chest. A famous couple? They want me to bake their wedding cake and pastries? Her voice rose higher with every word.
Right now? I should bring samples? Ah—no problem, I'll be there in ten minutes! She ended the call with a gasp and spun around dramatically.
Elsa! Come and help me pack some pastries quickly! she shouted. I am taking them to a celebrity! Elsa raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
Mummy, please. You and exaggeration are twins. They may not be celebrities. Maybe they’re just normal people with money.
Her mother narrowed her eyes in mock offense.Do you think I don’t know a celebrity when I hear one? The designer said they are famous! Famous couple! And you are here running your mouth.
Elsa shrugged, still laughing. Mummy, even last week you said the woman who bought puff-puff from you was a celebrity just because her hair was long. Oh, shut up! Her mom grabbed the nearest slipper and flung it at her. Elsa ducked, laughing as the slipper hit the couch behind her.
Her mother stormed off to her room, muttering under her breath,
Ungrateful girl. I’m telling you something good and you are joking.
Elsa stood up and mimicked her softly, Celebrity couple want me to handle their wedding cake,she said in a melodic tone, swaying her hips,
Ohhh I’m so special, I’m so blessed—" Before she could finish, her mother reappeared, holding a tray of pastries tightly.
Will you behave yourself! And don’t touch any more spring rolls, do you hear me? All this is for sale. If I count them and one is missing, I will count your head too. Elsa quickly held her ears with both hands like a repentant schoolchild.
Yes ma, sorry ma,she said, fighting a smile.
Her mother tried to stay stern, but her excitement betrayed her. She kept adjusting her headscarf, glancing at her reflection in the microwave door, and humming. Elsa laughed and walked her to the door.
Mummy, relax. You’re shaking.
Leave me! Let me shake in peace, her mom said, shooing her daughter away. Do you know who I’m going to meet? Celebrities! I can’t be calm. She stepped outside with her pastries, practically glowing with pride. Elsa watched her go, shaking her head fondly.
Exaggeration woman,she murmured—though she couldn’t help smiling at how adorable her mother looked, bouncing down the walkway as if she were about to meet royalty.
Elsa closed the door softly behind her mother and lingered there for a moment, her fingers still resting on the knob. A warm smile tugged at her lips as she watched her mother’s excitement replay in her mind—the bouncing steps, the glowing face, and the breathless joy. Leaning her back fully against the door, she let her head fall gently against it, her eyes drifting shut.
She looks so happy, Elsa thought. So proud. So alive.
A small sigh escaped her. Imagine if it were me making her that happy… if I were getting married to someone famous too.
For a few seconds, she allowed herself to picture it—her mother bragging to her friends, her father trying to act calm but secretly bursting with pride, people whispering, " that’s Elsa’s husband,” as they passed. She imagined a glamorous engagement, flashing lights, and a love story worth gossiping about.
But the fantasy cracked almost as quickly as it formed.
Her smile faded. Her shoulders slumped. Reality slipped back in like cold air.
She pushed herself away from the door and walked slowly toward the kitchen.
I’m unemployed.I can’t even get a decent white-collar job.Which famous person would ever look at me twice, let alone love me?
The thoughts hit her one by one, heavy and sharp. By the time she reached the kitchen counter, her chest felt tight.
She spotted the tray of spring rolls and reached for one automatically. Comfort food—her most loyal friend. She lifted it toward her mouth, hoping it would at least distract her from the ache swelling inside.
But just as it brushed her lips, her mother’s voice flashed in her mind:
“Don’t touch any more spring rolls! They are for sale!”
Elsa froze mid-bite, eyes widening guiltily. After a dramatic second of hesitation, she slowly lowered the spring roll and placed it gently back onto the tray, as though returning a stolen treasure.
Then she let out a small laugh—half amusement, half fondness. Her smile returned, softer this time, touched with love.
Fine, mummy, she murmured to the empty kitchen. You win.
She wrapped her arms around herself lightly, still smiling.
- Writer
