The Tycoon’s Remorse Pursuing His Unforgettable Bride

We all need friends like Ashley.

(ARIELLE’S POV)

I was getting vegetables and other cooking utensils ready when I felt a jolt in my stomach. I winced and grabbed the kitchen island, waiting for the wave to die down. I knew it would because it was a feeling I was familiar with.

The feeling had started three days back, and at first, I had attributed it to what I ate. But it happened again, and again, and it’s the third day already.

I didn’t read much meaning to it because it wasn’t painful, just a sharp jolt that rippled through my abdomen like a tide of waves. And seconds later, it was gone like it never happened.

Deciding it was nothing serious, I didn’t bother telling my Mum or Ashley about it. They’d freak out and drag me to the hospital, and I hated hospitals. They reminded me of so many ugly memories. And so shoved the thoughts of it aside, deciding it would stop the same way it started. No need to worry anyone.

“Are you alright?” Rebecca inquired, looking at me closely.

I forced a smile; I hadn’t realized I’d paused mid–task. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You look pale, and is it just me, but you’ve been putting on a lot of weight recently.”

I laughed, amused. What does gaining weight have to do with illness? “Rebecca, I’m fine. And about the weight, I only gained a few pounds because I’ve been frequenting the gym.”

“Alright. If you say so,” she mumbled, even though she didn’t look convinced. I was not in the mood to convince her either, so we both let it slide.

“Need help,” she asked, and before I responded, she already took over the veggies.

“Thank you,” I muttered, and moved on to the next task.

**

Later that day, at the close of work, Ashley came to pick me up. On arriving home, we were surprised to see packages heaped on the porch.

“Did you order something?” Ashley asked, turning to me. Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

“No, I didn’t,” I responded. “Did you?”

“Of course not,” she said, shaking her head.

“Then how come they’re here, and who brought them?” I asked, eyeing the packages suspiciously.

“Let’s see.” Ashley said, already approaching the packages, but I pulled her back.

“Ashley, that’s a risky move. What if it’s a bomb or something harmful? You’re just gonna walk over there and get yourself harmed.”

Ashley chuckled. “Really, Arielle? A bomb, this large? Quit being a scared cat, alright, and let me see what’s there.”

I stepped back wearily, watching Ashley like a hawk. She tugged at one of the packages, and a paper stuck to it fell to the floor.

“What’s that?” I called out, alarmed.

Ashley didn’t respond but glanced at the card and then exclaimed, “Aha! It’s for you.” She turned to me, holding out a card. “See, it’s not a bomb. Take a look.”

I reluctantly accepted the card and read the few words scribbled on it. “To you, my dear Arielle.” Without a second thought, I knew who it was from. It was from Jared’s mother, AKA my ex–mother–in–law.

“I’m not keeping whatever is inside those boxes,” I said simply, handing the card back< to Ashley.

“Why not?”

“Don’t you and everyone else understand? I said I do not want anything from that family! We’re divorced, all these gifts translate to nothing but pity. She feels sorry her son left me and wants to relieve the guilt by being nice to me and sending me gifts.”

“Arielle –”

“Will her kindness bring back all I have lost in three years, courtesy of her son? Fucking no! She should stop already; I’m getting repulsed,” I said, rushed to the door, unlocked it, and stormed inside.

I stormed into the house, and to my room, trying to steady my breathing and anger. Finally, calm, I made a mental note to apologize to Ashley. She didn’t deserve my snap.

We at need brands like Ashley

After undressing and slipping into comfortable housewear, I walked over to her room. I knocked, and she asked me in.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” I said, going to stand beside her as she undressed. “I snapped at you, and you didn’t deserve it.”

Ashley didn’t say a word; she merely stared at me for a while before drawing me into her arms. “Shh, I understand, and I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?” I asked in surprise, breaking the hugo look at her face. I searched it for the flimsiest hint of a lie but found none.

“Yeah, I’m not,” she replied. “You’ve been through a lot, and your level of emotional control is admirable. Just one unchecked temper won’t make me love you less.”

My eyes watered, and pulled her back in a hug, nestling my head in the crook of her neck.

We all need friends like Ashley.