TheInkWell Fiction Challenge | A Sorry Tale of Woe

almost 4 years ago

Week 3 of TheInkWell Fiction Challenge Summer 2020

Series Title: Our Thirteen Sonatas

Week 1: A Star Burns Bright as It Collides
Week 2: Ghost of the Past

For a second time, life has been good to me once more. I was born to a silver spoon, raised as a thing of beauty—a pampered princess as you would call me. However, I didn’t have the same freedom that I had from my previous life, for every decision was made for me by my wealthy parents.

“Angela! Must you take so long to get down here?? We mustn’t make the Minister and his son wait!” My mother tried to contain her frustration but it was evident in her red cheeks how annoyed she was with me at the moment. She then took in a deep breath as she fluffed her blonde curls and hurriedly motioned for me to follow her to the car.

“What has taken you two so long to get in?” My father was already waiting impatiently in the car as he turned his wrist to check the time.

“It’s not my fault this daughter of yours has her head up in the clouds again!” My mother huffed as we both got inside the car, father gave me a withering look before he knocked on the driver’s window, barking out the order for him to drive off.

Most of my every days were spent like this—meaningless social gatherings filled with vapid conversations—and at some point, I’ve already resigned myself to the ebbs and flows that this life had to offer until—I saw the ghost of my past..

He was one of the waiters in this party that my family had held for me, but I knew it was him the moment he passed me a glass of wine and I had inadvertently gazed into his eyes—I would always know those eyes no matter whichever lifetime we were in—they were the windows to our soul..

He must have felt it too as I caught glimpses of him throughout the party, sneaking looks at me as well, but I could only smile sadly to myself for this would only end up as a sorry tale for the both of us. I was thinking this when I felt a warm arm surround my waist and I looked up at the man who I would now call my husband.

“Can I have this dance, my love?” He had asked me with such adoration in his eyes that I felt my own heart melt just a little, I could not bear to break this man’s heart. I nodded my agreement and there we waltzed the dance of being a newly married couple.

Although ours was a marriage built on convenience, I found myself weak to go against my parents’ wishes now and I fought the urge to glance back at the person who owned me—heart and soul—for in this lifetime, I could only blame myself.

If only I waited long enough, if only I had the courage to fight for our destiny.. Maybe—just maybe, I could still ask for another chance at us..