Chapter 88 Chapter 88 Micah Story Again?
Rebecca’s POV
It’s been a while since I tasted ice cream. But trust me when I said this was one of the best I had taken all my life.
After Micah and I licked the first ones we bought, we bought another, the same flavors and then, buying one more, another flavor.
After we licked all of that too, we headed to Micah’s bike, and he rode me home.
Getting down at my gate, I watched how my security bowed to me in their distance. But they didn’t come near. They understood I was giving love a second chance, so none would question Micah or do other sorts of security checks on him.
I turned back and was heading towards my gate slowly, almost walking through it when I saw that Micah had not started his bike and rode away.
Was he missing me too much already?
I turned to look at him and saw that he sank his head into his bike hands like a man defeated by worries.
Quickly, like a concerned partner, I walked over to him. I placed my hands on his back and leaned my face closer to him.
“Is something wrong?” I asked him. My voice was low, soft, and filled with concern.
Micah raised his head, and from there, I saw his eyes. They were all reddish.
“I thought you were already getting better? Are you feeling hungry again?” I asked briskly. Seeing his puffy eyes, was his binge eating coming back to him?
“This is not about binge eating, Rebecca. I am so worried!” he declared.
What I knew men to be was that they were always acting tough. Men hardly shared their problems when they were going through life difficulties. So, when Micah said he was worried, I knew I got myself a man who would always share his life problems with me. This, to me, was a plus.
“What is it? You can tell me anything. You know this, right?” I said.
“Or, do you want to come in and share this with me?” I quickly added, knowing fully well that what he was about to share with me might be long. So, it was only a good gesture if I invited him in.
“Okay,” he sounded lowly and climbed down his bike.
In this manner, I held his hands and brought him into my mansion. Each security guard we passed by bowed their heads to greet the both of us, and I watched how he bowed to greet them back in return.
For a person who was not used to this lifestyle, they might think that they should greet each security guard who bowed to them.
“Don’t do that.” I corrected Micah with a smile.
“They are respecting you as my visitor. You can just walk by or wave at most,” I said.
Then he nodded. He understood my correction and took it with a noble and clear heart, understanding the protocol of private security to have no familiarity.
Hence, we got into one of my living rooms.
“Sit down, please,” I gestured to Micah with another smile.
He nodded as he glanced his eyes around, looking like my living room was perfect.
“It’s really beautiful in here,” he said out of the blue.
“Thank you. Everything was my mother’s idea. She was living here before she...” I paused.
“...Before she died,” I said, my voice a bit sad.
“I am sorry to hear that,” he said. But this was a long time ago now.
“I am trying to get better,” I said back at him. And as to not change the topic about the reason why he was so sad earlier,
“Ahem…” I cleared my voice. Then I snapped my fingers.
As I snapped my fingers, my chefs already understood my command. From the first kitchen, they moved out quickly, their smiles bright like the sun upon their faces. Their white uniforms were as white as snow. They were all looking happy at their job.
But why wouldn’t they? I made sure I paid their salaries on time and with added benefits.
I knew every worker placed a huge expectation on their pay as it was their way of sorting their bills, so I made sure to treat them as my priority—to pay them as and when due.
“What do you care for, sir?” one of the chefs asked with a loud smile.
“Oh!” Micah sounded.
“Anything juice is fine,” he said.
“Okay, sir.”
“Would you prefer pineapple juice, orange juice, lemon juice…”
“Pineapple juice is fine,” Micah interrupted with a smile as my chef was listing every kind of juice in this world.
Just then, as my chefs returned to their workstation, I sat next to Micah on the same sofa.
“Do you want to talk now or after you have your juice?” I asked him, holding his hands and holding them firm like the concerned partner that we both are to each other now.
Instantly, I saw tears streaming down Micah’s eyes. This told me indirectly that what he had in his heart was such a heavy weight that he was willing to share it with me.
“Did something terrible happen?” I asked him, quickly bending to his knees, and my hands curled to his shoulder.
I patted his back. I couldn’t stand a grown man crying like a child. To make a grown man do this, life had hit him hard in the face. But thankfully, if it was anything financial, I was more than capable of helping.
Even if it was not anything financial, I should be able to make some calls and have it settled. This should be what love is about, right?
“Please talk to me,” I said, holding his eyes with my concerned stares.
“My life is in danger, Rebecca,” he opened his mouth, and I opened my eyes in shock.
What did he mean his life was in danger?