Alisha’s POV
As Archie's words resounded with unequivocal rejection, a heavy weight settled within my chest. It was a stark reminder of his unwavering stance, one he had never been secretive about. Archie's refusal to entertain the notion of bearing a child with me was like a cold gust of wind, extinguishing any latent hopes I might have harbored.
He refused to Mark me, unwilling to let me bear his child, because in his heart, his love was reserved solely for Erma. The truth had always been there, an open secret to me. Even though I had was clear that Archie didn't love me, for some reason, a tinge of sadness and heartache still managed to creep in.
Amidst the somber atmosphere, Shaunda's discerning gaze captured our unspoken turmoil. Her contemplative expression hinted at a deeper understanding, an insight that surpassed the surface of our conversation. She furrowed her brows slightly. In her subsequent words, there was a kind of empathy that radiated warmth. "Young ones often have their own paths to tread. I know you might enjoy your own world and perhaps aren't prepared to have children yet. I don't wish to burden you with undue pressure."
Hearing Shaunda's understanding words, I knew she was afraid to make me stressed. I forced a smile and lied, "Don't worry, Grandma. You'll definitely have the chance to see your great-grandchild." Though, that the child wouldn't be mine. I added silently in my mind.
Her understanding touch came to rest on my hand, gentle and calming. I leaned into the warmth of her touch, a fleeting moment of comfort. Resilience filled my chest, mingling with the bittersweet emotions that swirled within. It was a reassurance that transcended words, a moment of connection that bridged our emotions and experiences. A pang of bittersweet emotions washed over me, causing me to lower my head and crouch down, leaning against her.
Shaunda smiled kindly, which was a mixture of gratitude and wisdom, bloomed in response. I could feel her approval, her belief in my words. Hope Erma’s baby wouldn’t let Shaunda down.
Archie parted his lips, seemingly about to say something, but in the end, his words never manifested, dissolving into the silence that lingered. As my composure returned, I met Shaunda's gaze, a shared understanding passing between us. I gathered my emotions and lifted my head with a smile again, saying to Shaunda, "I'll go and pack our bags now. Afterward, I'll make my famous baked apple pie, just for you, Grandma." The corners of her eyes crinkled with delight as she accepted my offer. Her words, soft yet significant, sealed the moment, "Thank you, my dear. That sounds absolutely wonderful."
Then I stood up and prepared to leave the study. Before walking out of the room, I quietly turned around to take one last look at the moonstone, which rested on Shaunda's desk, bore significance beyond its radiant exterior, the magical power.
It was a pity – the moonstone could only be effective when placed in this study, combined with the magical array within. Once I left this place, I wouldn't be able to communicate with Shaunda so conveniently anymore.
Being with Shaunda always reminded me of my own grandmother, Magaly, her tenderness and kindness resonating deeply.
As thoughts of my still comatose grandmother, Magaly, filled my mind, a sense of loss washed over me. However, my reverie was disrupted by Archie's voice, breaking through my contemplation with his characteristic arrogance, "Don't forget my preferences when you cook. Prepare something for me in dinner."
I rolled my eyes after hearing this. A scoff rose involuntarily, a retort poised on my lips, but I held it back. I came up with a great idea, so I responded, my tone laced with mock compliance, "Now that I need to cook, I'll leave the packing to you."
Archie's face scrunched in evident uncertainty, "I'm not experienced in dealing with the packages."
"Weren't you very confident just now in front of Shaunda? Either you cook, or I'll handle the packing."
A moment of inner conflict etched itself on Archie's features before he conceded reluctantly, "Fine, I'll handle the luggage. But you need to head to the kitchen straight away. No wandering around or goofing off elsewhere, it might affect cooking efficiency. I am starving."
I rolled my eyes again, sidestepping further interaction with him. With an exaggerated exhale, I descended the stairs, directing my steps toward the kitchen.
Upon Shaunda's secluded island, the bounty of seafood was plentiful, though Archie wasn't particularly fond of it. I collaborated with the servants and chefs, orchestrating a symphony of flavors that swiftly materialized into a sumptuous spread. The dining table beckoned with its culinary delights, and I promptly summoned everyone to indulge in the feast.
Presenting Shaunda with a warm apple pie, I observed as she bit the pie, a smile gracing her lips. I was very happy that she liked it. Turning to Louie and Gray, I extended the invitation for them to partake, a hint of playfulness in my words, "Fancy trying my secret recipe, gentlemen?"
Louie and Gray took the apple pies with smiles. Louie took a bite and enthusiastically praised, "This is the best apple pie I've ever had!" Before Gray finished his pie, he shouted, “I need more, Alisha! My stomach says that it wants to be filled with this amazing pie.”
Their reactions were heartwarming – Gray's enthusiastic affirmation and Louie's wholehearted praise filled the air with laughter and appreciation. Basking in their delight, I couldn't suppress my own smile. "Feel free to enjoy more. I made plenty."
Archie sat next to Gray, looking visibly displeased. Carrying the plate, I walked directly past him, not giving him a chance to take an apple pie. Gray furrowed his brow and was about to complain about something, but I spoke up before he could, “I didn’t prepare you share of pie.”
“Why not?” Archie snapped, and others all looked on us.
My cooking efforts were a testament to my unspoken affections for Archie before. Countless hours were dedicated to crafting delectable snacks and dessert, an earnest endeavor to get even the slightest hint of appreciation from him. Every dish was meticulously prepared, and I hope to make his days brighter by my cooking. With a hopeful heart, I would present these treats to him, wishing he would carry them to work or savor them during his outings. However, every time he seemed unwilling to take them.
Doubt often clouded my thoughts; perhaps my cooking skills were lacking or my offerings weren't palatable enough. Magaly's apple pie, a nostalgic masterpiece from my past, remained etched in my memory as the epitome of flavor and comfort. So, I kept practicing and perfecting the recipe, striving to replicate the taste that had warmed my heart for years.
After endless attempts, I finally felt a surge of accomplishment. The aroma wafting from my latest creation filled the kitchen, a testament to my hard-won success. Brimming with excitement, I put this freshly baked apple pie to Archi’s lunch box, my heart dancing with anticipation.
However, but on that day later, I found out that he didn't take a single bite – they all went bad. Tears welled up in my eyes as I stood in the kitchen, pie after pie disposed of in the trash. The weight of disappointment and longing became too much to bear, aching in the hollow of my chest. It was a poignant reminder of my unrequited feelings. From that moment on, I decided to never make apple pie for him.
Therefore, I replied to Archie, "You've never been a fan of my apple pies, have you?"