CEO’s REDEMPTION

“Nothing is right here in my heart, Jerol.” I brat out; tears are beginning to fall, and I don’t know why. “Everything is just a shock, you know? I left home in the morning five days ago, only to find my shop all demolished and all the stock destroyed. That was the only thing that was keeping me sane. My mind and soul crashed the moment I learned that I was not going to recover anything. While I dragged myself back home that morning, I got into an accident. I thought that perhaps all my miseries had come to an end. But no. I woke up here, in a strange house with a total stranger, as a wife to someone I don’t know at all. And why? Because my own mother sold me. She had found a perfect way to get rid of the sticking garbage in her house. And now? Now I just learned that my stranger husband is what, a trillion… whatever? This is excellent, right? It’s so okay for all this shit to happen in such a short period of time, right?” I facepalm my face, covering my tearful eyes.

I didn’t know I was holding so much. I thought I was strongly okay. I knew I was strong. So why all this drama? Why do I have to break down like this in front of a stranger?

I feel the familiar arms wrapping around my shoulders, and I let my forehead rest on his chest, keeping my sobs at bay. Oh, dear, what a nice way of showing how broken I am! Like magic, the soothing sound of his arms rubbing my back calms me down, and I stop sobbing. I pull away, and I start drying the wet parts of his shirt with the back of my hands.

“What do you think you are doing?” He asks, bending backwards, creating space between his chest and my hands.

“Drying up the mess I made on your shirt.” I say it softly, looking anywhere but his face. I know I look like a mess myself.

A shit, to be precise!

If life was a play, huh? How many twists in just five freaking days?

“Wipe these instead.” He says this, drying the tears from my eyes, and I get a chance to look at him. “You know, Tessa. I don’t know what you went through before our paths crossed. But my advice to you is this:. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Take this as a second chance to live, and try to be happy in any way that you possibly can.”

Well, that was the plan since I cut ties with my mother. It still is. I don’t know what just got into me a while ago. I am choosing happiness and peace.

I take the iPad carefully from the table and start taking small steps towards the door.

“You are right,” I say to him. “I promise you won’t see these tears again for the five months that we will be together. Plus,” I stop and half-turn to him, “I bet the wife of a trillion… trillio… wait, what am I supposed to call that? You are more than a billionaire.”

“I am just Jerol to you, Tessa. The rest isn’t important.”

“Yeah, right! I will find that out.” He smiles. No. Is that a smile or a smirk? “I suppose Jerol’s wife should be tough and strong. I will try to level up.” I drag my foot again, walking forward. “And your smirk is annoying, by the way.” I shout, picking up my limping pace again.

“And your limping sucks.”

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Yeah, I know that, you filthy rich jerk! Even my walking style alone can’t be anywhere close to being good. What happens when I am limping? Anyway, I don’t walk to impress; getting where I am going is what matters to me. As long as I can lift my legs from the ground and alternate one leg after another, I am good.

I feel him behind me, and he puts his hand on the doorknob before I do. I try to turn, but I bump into his face from behind me. Heck!

“What do you think you are doing?” I ask, trying not to turn to him because he is so close.

“We are going to massage that leg of yours because I don’t want any mishaps tomorrow. Hold this.” He hands me a first-aid kit, which I take.

“And who is going to do the massage?”

“Your husband, of course. Who else?”

“No, thank you. I will do it myself.” I reach for the doorknob, but before I know it, I am in his arms. I even screamed because I didn’t see that coming. “Put me down, Jerol,” I say, and I am dead serious about that. But who am I daring? The dare devil himself? He is about to emit fire from his eyes to burn me.

“Open the door.” His cold voice echoes through my ears, and his icy eyes dare me to say or do otherwise. I twist the nob, opening the door.

He walks out with me, bridal style, in his arms, while I am dying of embarrassment.

“Does he have to camouflage like this? Jeez! He looks so ugly and scary when he is cold. Is this how rich people behave?” I murmur to myself.

He halts on his feet, gazing at me with a murderous look. His eyebrows are raised, making his semi-almond eyes appear bigger than usual.

“If you say one more word, I will drop you, and I will not even care about your screams as you roll down these stairs. Do you hear me?” He speaks so loudly that even the servants in the sitting room hear it.

They all disappear to the kitchen in a hurry, and I am glad there is no one else on the stairway. Does he beat them, or why do they fear him so much? What am I even saying? His authoritative and commanding voice is enough to scare anyone.

“Then you will have no fake wife to present to your family and your rich guests tomorrow. I dare you!”

“Shut. Up. Tessa!” He is shutting his eyes tight, speaking between gritted teeth, his lips trembling with anger as he speaks, and I opt to stop my childishness at this point. It’s best for me.

“Sorry, hubby. Carry on, please. I won’t talk again.” I finish, and I lay my head on his chest as he picks up his pace again.