A/N: Thanks to all those readers who have made it this far in my story (and is not bored of the horrible plot). I've been kind of busy, but I'll try to update more.
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~Chapter 4~
Being back at home, stinking, sweaty, and sticky, drove away the devil and Celeste with their noses turned up and hand over their mouths. Holding back a humorless laugh, I dragged myself up the mountain of stairs to my bedroom.
After refreshing myself with a shower, I flopped on the bed. Although I wasn't sore yet, my feet were begging me to stop standing, and I obliged. With a few hours of relaxing on the plush mattress, I reached on my nightstand for the alarm clock and set the time to midnight.
Placing the alarm clock right beside where my head would be when I slept, I stretched and went to soothe my soles somehow.
Finding an empty container, I brought it with me, holding it by my hip and went to my art/supplies closet for a label. Sticking the label on slanted, I took out the cap of a permanent marker and wrote: ‘Foot Massage” in cursive. There, now the container has a useful job.
Placing the container under my bathtub faucet and turning the hot handle all the way, I watched as the container filled up and steam rose in the air. Carefully, I lifted the full container and placed it on the floor near one of the chairs I placed in here to keep my clothes in order.
Settling down, I dipped one toe inside the liquid and almost yelped. But after a few moments, the boiling water was welcomed and I placed both of my feet in. Letting out a sigh, I slumped in my seat and placed both arms behind my head.
A knock echoed in my conspicuous bedroom, startling me from my daydream.
“Miss Lei?” Humphrey asked.
“Come in! I’m in the bathroom!” I replied. I heard my door open and slam shut.
“Miss Lei, dinner is prepared and the whole family is waiting upon your arrival,” Humphrey reported, “How are your muscles?”
“I’m able to endure it. At least I’m not sore yet, so I am probably able to defeat Richard if he tries anything,” I replied confidently. He tensed up. I glanced at him weirdly, “If there anything you need to inform me about?”
“Yes, umm. Master Richard is unwell today, so he postponed the date to two weeks from today, same time,” Humphrey stuttered out. Quirking my eyebrow up in an inquiry, I dismissed the thought.
“Wait, unwell you say?” I got up from the chair and started putting the container and dumped out the contents inside it. After a few seconds of silence on his part when I washed the container, he responded.
“Yes, quite ill,” he replied.
YOU ARE READING
Wishing Upon Dandelions
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