“Can you tell me why you want my username?” I cocked my brow at him. He still doesn’t take his phone out in front of me. He was unimpressed by my inquiry and simply waited for me to pick up the phone. I exhaled a sigh. I have a feeling he’ll do something. When I got on his phone, I noticed that his account did not yet have a profile. I fixed my gaze on him. He is currently eating food while listening in on the chitchat of the three, sometimes joining their conversation.
I visited his profile and discovered that it was a fresh account. Huh? Did he make an account only to add me? My heart begins to pound. I was ecstatic. He was still chatting, so I hit the button in the center that said ‘upload photo.’ I discreetly clicked on it to submit a picture of him. I looked through the photographs, but there weren’t many of them, simply views of various locations such as the beach, mountain, or garden. I’m almost at the end of the camera roll, but I can’t find a shot of him.
When that was the end, I finally saw a single photo of him. Suddenly the back of my ear heated, butterflies dance in my stomach and I remembered what had happened in the bathroom. That picture is a mirror shot in the washroom, maybe to where he went. He appears like he just got back from the beach since he is tan there. Now, his skin is lighter. His abs are visible and just a towel covers the lower part of his body. The head looked up as the adam’s apple was noticeable. His lip is also grinning.
I’m not sure what kind of luck this man has, but it appears to be all his. Except for his attitude, that is.
I click it and type a heart emoji as the caption. Next, I pressed the ‘post’ button, then it appeared on his timeline. I also searched my account and followed it with his account.
Before I returned it to him, I saw something red pop up on the heart-shaped button. That button is the notification, that’s where you can see the like, comment, and follow. At first, I let that go, but when I looked at the messages, the number kept increasing. Up to 48 messages. I clicked it and saw the rushing woman leaving him a message.
I glanced at Hugo, who was still busy and didn’t seem to care about what I was doing on his cellphone. I read the woman’s message, almost seeing her nipple in her pictures, then replied.
“Hi, baby! Are you free tonight? I’d like to try that big thing between your legs.” My face turned red because I knew what she was referring to, but the irritation of what I read still prevailed over me.
“Sorry, I’m already engaged. She’s beautiful and I can’t leave her for just cheap ones like you.”
After I sent it, I quickly pressed delete. I even stroll with Hugo’s phone until I decided to use the camera and took a picture of the food.
“What are you doing?” Hugo turns to me now.
“Taking pictures you can post it on Instagram.” I switched the front cam, focused it on me, smiled, and then clicked the button. The next thing I did, I leaned on Hugo’s arm, lay down a little, and pressed the button. When I looked at the result, it was so sweet, to the point we can deceive anyone that we have a good relationship.
The result is I crouched on his arm. He’s leaning over me while I smiled and he seemed to watch me.
They all said their goodbyes when we finished eating. Aunt Julia and I were the only ones left at the table. She was hesitant to rise at first because they were just leaving, but as they did, she rushed over to me and sat next to me. She held me so hard, that it seemed earlier is not enough.
When she stepped out of the hug, she held my two hands in hers and whispered, “I thought my story would surprise you, but I think I was shocked when the man stated on the phone last night that you were his fiancee. Is that true?”
I chuckled because she was like a spy questioning while delivering information to her commander. I’m at a loss for words. Whether I tell her the truth or lie. I was worried that someone would hear me and ruin Hugo.
Eventually and I still decided not to tell her first and just let time give me a chance to tell her. I tightened my grip on her and then smiled with reassurance. I don’t want her to worry about me anymore. She had run out of time finding her own family. I want her to be at peace.
“I can’t tell you yet. Wait for me, give me time to tell you, but not yet. And one more thing, think for yourself. Aren’t you wasting your life? You’ve almost spent all your time with my sister and me.” I sniffed as a few tears fell in my eyes.
“What are you saying? To be with you and witness your sister grow up is a blessing to me. My only dream now is for you to be settled. When that happens, I can sit in a chair while watching and having coffee,” she laughed and wiped the tears from my eyes. She also stroked my hair. I rest my cheek on her right palm. I was very lucky because Aunt Julia helped my sister and me to get up.
We talked so much until asked her the story she wanted to tell me earlier. Aunt Julia was a quiet person. She didn’t tell much about her life or anything else she had just gathered outside, so I was surprised that she suddenly said she had something to tell.
“Oh! I remember Aunt Julia. I’ve been curious about the story you want to tell. What was that? You’re not a story person so it’s surprising.” I turned my head to her from looking at my phone because it buzzed. Her smile widened, and she seemed overjoyed. The excitement on her face is evident.
“Aren’t you worried about me? What will happen if I might not be with you? Now, you have nothing to worry about.”
She rummaged through her purse and handed me the printed photo. The woman in the photograph has a burn scar on the left side of her face, which appears to be deliberate due to the proper and equal part. However, upon careful inspection, it is clear that it was an accident.
I carefully examine the photograph, since she resembles someone I’ve seen previously. I just can’t place where I saw this expression. I let it go in my thoughts since I didn’t want to have a headache thinking about who it was. However, I’m convinced I’ve already seen those eyes of hers. I just can’t recall anything because her face is on fire. I was simply wondering whether the agony she suffered when she was crawled by that injury was excruciating.
“Do you recall the day you gave me money because you had money from your sister’s work? I went to the province after you left because someone informed me a woman was living in a hut near the mountain where landslides occur frequently.” I sat calmly and listened to her story. I was intrigued by the woman’s background as well, and I felt sorry for her. I didn’t know how to characterize the woman. If I was unfortunate, then what could word should use for her?
The question arose in my mind. If Aunt Julia is so happy, I have a hunch she brought the woman here. But there is a gap in the female identity for me. Why is she on the mountain if it’s not the safest part of the area? Aunt Julia seems to like the woman, so I won’t just ask her, but I’m still curious about how the woman’s face burned.
“How could her face get that injured?” I’m intrigued. We know that if something was done on purpose, the offender may face criminal charges. Perhaps she was unable to bring a case due to the circumstances of her life. We were like that back then since my parents didn’t give us anything, therefore my sister helped me out.
“That is the issue. They said the woman had been there for five years and had not spoken a single word. Because she was screaming, no one could approach her. She was terrified of people.” Did the sorrowful expression mean she didn’t bring the woman?
“What happened to the woman? I thought she was here with you?” I assumed she was telling me because she was already with the woman.
“If I asked if she wanted to accompany me, she might run. Fortunately, she felt much better around me right away. She doesn’t tire of being around me. It’s too early in the case for me to ask her to accompany me here; if I did, I think she’d be afraid of me. That’s why I’d want…” She came to a halt and looked at me solemnly, “Please help me persuade her to come here.”
“Huh? Why me?” I was surprised at her request.
“Because you’re the only one I know who is compassionate with people like this. I feel like she’ll agree when the person she’s talking to is the person who can understand her.” Aunt Julia pressed her two palms together as if begging me to agree. I can do nothing because even with this thing, I can pay her back for what she has done for us.
I sighed as a sign of surrender. “When are we going?” Aunt Julia applauded, and then their smile widened. She hurriedly looked at the calendar and replied. December 1. I want her to be with us this Christmas.
Aunt Julia chose to go home after we chatted. I offered her the option to stay and sleep here, but she declined. When she came out, I checked at my phone, which had been vibrating for quite some time since Aunt Julia was still there. I didn’t turn off the Wi-Fi since Hugo stole it last night.
I looked at the message, annoyed by the loudness of the phone, but it wasn’t just a message; it was also a notification about the tag of images, comments, and likes. I was shocked since all I could see was Hugo’s name. Is this man doing nothing but just to spend his time on social media?
I clicked on a photo that was tagged on me, but it was simply food with no caption.
The following image roused the dormant butterflies in my stomach. Even though they had just finished dancing, I felt them again. The photo that was shared and tagged to me is one that I shot earlier while he was leaning on me. The caption made me flush; he can’t see me, but I’m already embarrassed that the thrill in my body is palpable.
“Please do not message me. I don’t want her to be jealous because she’s so beautiful.”
That’s the caption for the photo. Exactly the moment I read the caption, his message appears. I opened our chat discussion and saw that he had sent far too many messages.
“Hello, lovely!”
“Why aren’t you responding?”
“Did you upload my photo? I’ll post a photo of us.”
“Why are you not responding? Are you having a conversation with your boyfriend?”
There are many more messages there, but I haven’t read them all yet; he has a new image posted. I wouldn’t have opened it first because I was still reading his messages when I pressed it by accident due to shaky hands. The photo shows me slurping spaghetti with my forklift. If butterflies used to be the only thing that touched my tummy, his caption now appears to tickle my entire existence.
“Soon to be Mrs. Whitlock.”