[ A WATTPAD FEATURED STORY ]
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❝We accept the love we think we deserve.❞
But what does that really mean?
This is Eva's story; a tale of a wayward girl who had a heart of glass and when it broke, forgot that light tends to creep in through the cr...
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Eva stood at the kitchen sink, one hand braced on the marble surface while she looked out the window that provided a view of everything towards the left of the house, and the other hand resting on the bump in her stomach.
It was a girl, they’d told her.
Without her really being fully aware of it, her mouth curved upwards into a soft smile.
She was going to have a little girl. And the fact still amazed her as it did the first time she’d heard those words.
Two months. In just two months, she was going to bring a little girl into this world, into her arms. Her mind ran free, wondering if maybe her daughter would inherit Eva’s cornflower blue eyes, or Vince’s dark brown locks. Maybe she’d have Eva’s thin lips, or maybe Vince’s slender nose and strong cheekbones.
Or maybe, she’d be born as plain as anyone ever could possibly be— it wouldn’t matter. Because Eva knew the baby— her baby— would be the most beautiful creation in this entire world to her.
Yes, she thought as her eyes left the window and landed on her stomach, the most beautiful. Eva’s smile widened, her teeth pulling in the corner of her bottom lip as she lost herself to the thoughts running around in her head.
A sharp sound pierced the bubble of silence that’d enveloped the house since Vincent had left for work, harshly yanking Eva out of her trance and making her turn towards the archway that led out of the kitchen.
Nobody ever showed up at the door at this time, or any other time for that matter. The only visitors this house ever had was a few salesmen or, in rare occasions, Vincent’s colleagues for business dinners.
Eva took those cautious, evenly-paced steps to the door, allowing that hand to remain on her belly as if to reassure herself of the presence inside. Her other hand reached out to pull open the knob and reveal the pleasant face of Millie Morgan.
“Mrs Morgan,” Eva blinked hard in surprise, both taken aback and yet unusually pleased to see the woman. The last time the she’d seen Millie Morgan was with her husband, Noah, who’d come to their home for a dinner that followed a discussion between both men relating to Vincent’s business.
Eva had uncharacteristically taken a quick liking to this woman, back then. Maybe it was the shared passion for baking, seeing that Mrs Morgan owned Millie’s Family Bakery and had invited Eva to try her hand in that place. Eva didn’t dwell on the loss of that opportunity, though—she knew it was for dreamers, for those who built castles in the clouds while having their feet planted to the ground.
And Eva Dyer was no dreamer.
“Please,” Mrs Morgan smiled, “do call me Millie.”
“Right,” Eva nodded, her lips slowly rising to an uncertain and hesitant smile, “Millie.”
