The Bride Who Murdered Her Groom: A Stories Collection

Beautiful and sharp-witted, Sophia Solochi—blamelessly eighteen—understands that she must not ever fall in love. If she does, any peculiar man she has adored will not live what will befall him. In unquestionable words, he will die. Fast. Surely. And frightfully. Why would he perish, you may marvel? Sophia, also true with her female descent, is cursed. Any lad whom she falls for is destined to yield up his ghost in her very own arms and care. When she moves with her mother to Brownton to begin a fresh and unimpaired life, far away from their ancient calamities and sorrows, the worst things imaginable happen to them. Sophia cannot resist falling in love with Alex Ramirez, a strikingly handsome but in-a-short-time to-be Engineering postgraduate at Brownton University. Here, whilst pursuing a Fashion and Designing degree, she furtively repeats the self-same pursuit and engagement that effected insufferable agony and bitterness in her bygone days. Falling in love is extremely perilous, she


20. Shocking

Of course. Alex would at this moment be no more, dummy. Dead. Every inch breathless and non-existent. Shit. This was bad than I thought it to be. No falling in love, no dating any boy whom I happened to have a crush on, no marrying and having sex and making love. Oh my gosh! What flinty and callous rules these were! “I am sorry, Chantal.” “For not being able to lure my son into bed long enough before I came across you two making out with each other?” “Will you forgive me or not for everything wrong that I have done?” “Of course, I will let you off, Sophia. You know how much I love and adore and respect you.” “Thank you so much. I appreciate it all.” Did I really? Yes, I sincerely and honestly and truthfully and heart-feltly did. I sure did. From black to gray. It was Alvin I am referring about here. He had changed his handiwork and business suit to put on another spanking new and fresh-looking and spicy-like smelling impeccable suit. With that thorned up and splintered and spiked and cast back and forth ash blond hair of his, he was an absolute marvel and nobleness to look at, brilliancy upon brilliancy. “Are you the one who arranged this dinner?” He questioned me. I answered, “No. It came as a surprise to me as well. What do you think about it anyway? Is it fantastic and so out of this world? Or do you find it tolerable and insupportable?” He weighed and analyzed that for an ephemeral while before he came back with an answer, like men of cognitive faculty and intelligence are fond of doing. What an intellect he was indeed! Oh yes he certainly was. “This is one of the most wonderful ever dinner date that I have ever enjoyed, Sophia. What of you? Is this unbearable and all just out of the track and reason altogether?” “Nay. It be not so, Alvin. I like and fancy it as much as you do yourself.” “I can see.” He was yet screening and analyzing my dress. My God! Why had I chosen to wear it in the first place? Was it that special and exceptional and significant to him? I had to find that out. “Don’t you find it offensive and annoying that I am putting on this, all without ever bothering to ask you of your permission and approach about it. Listen, I am terribly sorry if this does offend and annoy you in any slight way.” “Why are you saying that, Sophia?” “I just thought—” I was cut short abruptly. “Well…you think weirdly and strangely then. You shouldn’t have reflected that manner in the first place. You are free and at liberty to get anything that you feel like wanting to have in this house. My house now happens to be yours too, I should say.” Oh no. So now the mogul and I were already espoused and interweaved as one to the scope and width that we could free-heartedly and generously and liberally split up and parcel out between ourselves everything that we held and had in our possession? Was that it? Fine—alright. Alvin himself had the whole cosmos of his—a boundless and infinite sphere of earthly treasures and fortune and prosperity—that I could but relish with him till the last iota and whit and mite of my very life and existence. And I myself on the other hand, what upper hand and greater quality thing did I have to give and propose to him? What exactly? I had nothing but a needy and straitened and valueless me. Yes. That was the only invaluable and priceless thing that I had in this world. I would confer and yield a sincere me whole-heartedly and unreservedly to a genteel, chivalrous, urbane and immensely affluent and wealthy him. Don’t you find that not being decent and pitiable? I do myself. Candles flickered and flashed and fluttered about, flaunting their glowing and luminous flames in the spacious but darkly room that we were in. All the lights had been flicked and snapped out to give the definite flavor and taste and savor that corresponded excellently and impeccably well with the romantic scene and spectacle itself. The table between us, one that disjointed and parted us, was this sweeping and vast and enlarged in size so that if furnished and held several and a manifold plates of diverse and many foods. There was a beautiful and palatable-looking cake with two long candles in the center, one of them being wholly scarlet in color and the other a bit darkish and for the most part tinted with a docile and malleable-seeming ruddy. There were plates of spaghetti and macaroni, rice shaded and hued an exquisite yellow and lemon from intermixture and mélange with all sorts and variety of spices. Chicken, in its entirety and sheerness, was there too, simmered and seethed and then dried and roasted and so cracking-prepared it had globules and droplets of saliva dribble and trickle their way out of my mouth. My stomach was so empty and dry and sapless right now that I needed to fill and gorge it to feel much better and fine again. If I wouldn’t do that, then I was damned for good to fall and tumble down to my death and passing away. While we engorged and dined through the meal, all of a sudden, on the spur and shot of a moment, the flashing and pressing forward of it even, Alvin looked to be on his guard and suddenly gruff and churlish and discourteous with me. Oh, oh! I had been forewarned with regards to this or hadn’t I? Of course, Chantal had fairly and in time cautioned me about this precise moment. I waxed cold and colder in fear and apprehension, shuddering and quaking at what was to evince itself before me. Was it pleasant…or dire? Implacable. I had a sneaky, abject feeling about deep inside me. Boy, what exactly did I have to do? What expressly? In the lustrous and particularly glossy light of the candles, the glasses glistened and flickered. I stared at them, unperturbedly and tenderly. They were so genteel and sleek shiny that I could not help but glance away from them for fright and terror of their glittering and glistening dazzling and injuring me to consummate sightlessness. The vision was so celestial and fine to the point that I could not defy to call it back to mind with wonder and admiration. Of course. I was so intensely and outright awed. It was the best mental picture and visualization ever. It certainly was. Delicately and affectionately, I strolled toward him, taking my time and leisure just like I felt like doing and I heaved a sigh out deeply and bit by bit. Of course, he did not have to spot me and be aware that I was coming after him. No way. That had to be an overall surprise and shocker on his part all in all. Yes. I was drawing closer and more closer to him with each unhurried and lightly step that I took toward him. And once I would make it to him, I was going to place my hands over his eyes and make him roller blind for a fleeting while. Definitely. His hair was thorned and barbed up in that startling and luminous way that I could not assist at all apart from ogling and being in awe at. My goodness. This was the most barely credible and hard to believe thing ever. His hair. The way it was prearranged and put together up. It was so celestial-looking and magnificent. I had not ever seen anything like it. As soon as I got to him, I bowed myself down to lay my mild and womanly-like hands over his eyes, covering them up in other words so he was not able to see. Of course, this was all a dumb and very dim-witted game on my part. Who else could do this to him apart from me? Who else could? No one else, I worked and figured out. No one else but I myself. “Sophia,” his tone of voice was somewhat supple-like and stumpy in pitch, like that of a saintly and captain archangel, fairly easygoing and temperate. I sighed out at that, not knowing what else to say. What in particular did I have to make known to him? Hmnn. What approximately? “What an unanticipated shocker this is from you,” he added on at realizing how so silent and un-talking I was. Damn it! I set his eyes free immediately; and he rounded speedily in his chair to stare and gawp at me. My goodness. What else had I to do now? I was all of a sudden so timid and self-conscious of myself and my actions. I regrettably was. Damn a stupid and imprudent me! Damn me a thousand times for everything! To end with but despondently deep inside, I forced a smile on my face and grinned at him frivolously, trusting that he would showcase the very precise and same sympathy and gentleness to me as well. Would he? After glowering for a bit while, he smirked back at me, forcedly and against his will—it seemed. Oh, oh. It seemed things weren’t any fine, or were they? No. It didn’t materialize into view that way. It didn’t at all. I began wondering what had gone in the wrong in particular. Was it something that had to do with me…or not? I just couldn’t tell this soon. I was in want and need of time. A small tad and supplementary whole lot of it. Yeah. That was what I desired right this moment. “What is in the wrong, Alvin? You don’t look any all right or cheerful either. What is the exact problem here?” He scowled yet again, staring at me with a puckered brow. My God. He was starting to alarm me so much. I hoped that…He began to relate everything at that point, disrupting and shattering up my contemplation, which was a good thing indeed than to leave me imagining and presuming about what it was that was going on. Phew. What a relief on my side and standpoint! “At times I do question if women are ever human beings…or bitches. I don’t imply to say that you are a bitch yourself. You are not, Sophia. But some girl, some mean and very blunted girl all together, she meets the criteria and is eligible to be dubbed a bitch. A smutty and barefaced and reeking bitch all in all.” Crap. He was speaking in brainteasers and conundrums, wasn’t he? Of course, he beyond doubt was. Who could be this lewd girl in any case? Who could she be and what had she specifically done to him? What exactly? I had never listened to him be this affronting and slurring. Which must be a positive symbol and mark that all this whole subject was but not a very good and complimentary matter at all. Or could it be? “I have a pal, Sophia. A very good buddy of mine. I have known him ever since I was young…somewhere in my premature twenties or so. And right now is he so brokenhearted that he can hardly eat or do anything at all. And you know what the grounds of his anguish and angst are. A girl. A young lady in particular. He loved her so much that she was not even keen and ready on letting off a little gaffe and slip-up of his. She threw him away just like that and that hurt him more than anything in the world. If only I knew who she was and could even come across her right now, I would without fail stifle and squeeze the life out of her for being bold and daring enough to wound and impair my best buddy in the whole world.” “Who is this girl?” I asked with care and worry and the reply was direct and instantaneous. “I don’t know the bitch but here are the pictures of me and my best comrade.” He showed me the pictures at that moment that were on his Android phone where they had stored up in his 30 Gigabyte memory card and I was alarmed and frightened to find out that his best buddy was…Alex Ramirez. My goodness! It could not be thus!
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