Chapter 13 " Hidden Curtains "

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 A warm afternoon breeze came teasing the senses of my cheeks, playing with the few strands of my hair that swayed on my face whilst I was sitting on one of the staircases. The calming air temporarily soothes my soul, closing my eyes while waiting on Nilde to come out in her room, and I must say, she is a beautiful lady at her age. I admire her, I felt at home with her, the same as she behaved towards Orianna like her daughter.

Moments later, whilst waiting on the third level of the staircase near the corridors on the northeast wing, where Nilde and her husband, Roman's quarters,. Outlining with my bare hands, the Victorian 1892 design dark-painted metal railings near corridors. Tracing the edges with my forefinger as a child doodled on papers to distract me while waiting for the lady. They had these places in the mansion for house staff that everyone was well pleased with, living and serving the young Ferguson. Whilst listening to the chirping birds nearby, singing at the moment.

I unexpectedly felt the need for a hug, regardless of what happened. Desiring my mom would open her eyes and understand more, I can't impede myself the longingness, love, and affection at the moment; instead, I hugged my rucksack waiting for the lady.

I was expecting that Nilde and I would have a few discussions Friday afternoon, as the note says. All about my work catalogue and how much cost I do have left since last time, darting at those records since I've been checking in. It may seem I have a long way to go since it was a gloriously expensive car that I bumped into. I still remember that day. It was a very calm, subtle sunrise at the time, and my mind flies thinking about her.

I cannot believe the exemption they have liked a meal, a bit of allowance that in the first place I did refuse. Likewise, I was persuaded to sum it up to lessen those figures I have. Orianna leaves instructions to Nilde that it was separate; that attitude of hers, always in control, is I cannot resist. She has a charm that any woman, being persuaded, cannot say "no.". So now the entire dilemma to deal with. How I was taken by returning the favor to her, like the next profound level, it's like the idea of "You stuck with me, girl; take it or leave it till those damaged figures reduce.".

Every weekend I got to check how much was left, then it got less and less, but why do I feel sad? I mean that I'm just supposed to be happy that I'm going to pay the damage; am I normal to feel this? That I presume to be the burden will be hoisted. Ugh! Play along, kid... play along... I said to myself.

So, I was thinking recently it's better that Organzas is not around, and I'm not to be deflected myself. I was always enchanted by her looking at her; my world stops, like every night I almost felt flying looking at her at the La Vie en Restaurant. God, how could she be so stunning and beautiful? I have had girl crushes before, but she's much too beyond; I even can't help myself not to. The reason I am here is because of her. I was dreaming of her while pacing my bicycle that early morning, and I ended up slamming her luxurious vehicle, and that was on me, an irresponsible, reckless driver. Who would have thought?

* * *

"Um? Roman, excuse me, who's the new girl washing those cars? Did we employ someone? " She implored, crossing her arms between her chest, little arching brows out of her curiosity.

"Miss? "He replied, following Orianna's scrutiny.

Before Roman called, he noticed the young Ferguson almost fumbled refraining herself and stepping back upon the balcony door, where she desired to take a view. Orianna steps back, nervously hiding those heavy, thick curtains. Seeing a woman washing those cars, for her, not to be seen, she immediately covers herself with those massive curtains on that door from where she's standing. She immediately hides while Roman only nods and stands there, glancing at Orianna, smiling, and taking a deep breath, smiling at the same time, speechless, observing Orianna's response to how she sees Kacey for the first time.

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