The Warmest Winter✓

Thirty-eight

I finally step downstairs, feeling refreshed and clean after a warm bath. The house smells terrific and I see a rear view of a young woman who's busy cleaning around. Her brown hair is tied up into a ponytail, dressed in a pale pink minidress—a uniform, I reckon.

"Hello," I greet cautiously, careful not to startle her. On the contrary, the girl jumps incredulously with a gasp. "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Oh my Gosh! You must be Sir Liam's wife!" she squeals gleefully, her voice as sharp as a chirping bird on a summer morning. 

"Um . . . yes." I smile briefly.

"Oh, I knew it!" Her bright eyes beam jubilantly. "I'm Lisa, ma'am. I work here. Well, only three times a week but I can be at your service anytime you need me." Her enthusiasm takes me by surprise, especially when she hovers around, twisting and bending her hips like a beauty pageant.

She's interesting.

"Pleasure meeting you, Lisa." I outstretch my hand towards her, and she shakes it reluctantly. "I'm Kira, by the way."

"I know," Lisa utters fast.

Oh, does she? Intriguing.

"I see. Everyone knows it seems," I mutter, sighing softly while wondering how I became so famous around here.

It's like everybody knew me before they even met me. 

"Good morning," Mrs. Prescott appears at last, interrupting us.

"Morning." Turning around, I give her my brightest smile, which is returned as given. 

"Did you sleep well?" she asks tenderly. I nod affirmatively. "Good. Your breakfast is ready. If you want anything specific to be prepared for you, I'll gladly do it; you just say the word."

Wow. My subconscious is enthralled, for this is certainly new to both of us. 

"Thank you. I'll have whatever you've prepared." I'm too starving to start choosing anyway.

Soon after breakfast—which was more like a fancy tea party with so many bites—I take a little walk around the garden. The sun is now shining mildly, trying hard, to no avail, to fight against the cold that forces me to fasten my long blazer tightly on my chest. 

Now I can understand why my old-spirited husband bought this house. Aside from its exquisite interiors, it's this pleasant yard that's covered with the carpet of green grass, flowers, and serene trees dancing with the soft wind. It's very beautiful out here. 

Later in the afternoon I manage to get ahold of Sam through a video call. I miss her. It's impossible to believe that we're now oceans away, depending on technology to hear each other's voice. My smile grows immensely upon seeing her face popping on the screen. 

"Hey! I thought you forgot about me!" Sam pouts. I gather she's inside a car, a seatbelt crossed on her chest. 

"Don't be silly. I'd never forget about you and you know that. I was just so busy with . . . you know what." I shrug, flushing.

"Yeah. Busy practising the art of love and all the styles invented by horny humans," Sam remarks, rolling her eyes. 

"Crazy bitch!" I burst out laughing, and she joins me right away. "How are you, though? Where are you going so dolled up?" I ask, sitting cross-legged in my bed. 

The bedroom is still the only place I'm comfortable to be around. 

"You mean, coming from? I was in the clinic. I had an appointment today for the regular checkups."

"Oh. How is it going?" I ask.

"Well, everything is super fine with the baby. In fact, my tummy is getting bloated, and my jeans feel crampy, and I forget who I am sometimes when I wake up in the morning looking like I stuffed myself with pasta in the middle of the night. Do you know why? Because I do stuff myself with pasta, if not the KFC chicken, every night."