The Legal Wife

I woke with the alarm clock blasting on my bedside table. I immediately sat up and rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand. I looked at the watch and it’s already six in the morning—an hour earlier than the usual time I wake up.

I walked down to the kitchen to cook breakfast. I am not really the best person to cook but I’m trying to practice. At least for my husband and me…

I prepared what I needed for the fried rice and the sides. I know what to do. I’ve watched several cooking shoes lately and I believe I am going to really get better at this. I just need practice, like what Lora, our helper, and my mom tell me all the time.

“Practice never betrays you,” is what my mother has been telling me. Even when I was just starting to design clothes, it has been my motto. No one was born a genius or skillful, anyway.

I was on the final egg—the last egg standing because I’ve burned them all—when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

I looked behind me and saw Kristoff, walking down with his black three-piece Armani suit. His hair is sort of styled in a messy way but he still looks more handsome than ever. His tall stature had been so helpful with his charisma but I would say that he’s cold aura is his signature asset.

He looked at me and smiled a little. His eyes have always been so intense like he’s always thinking about melting whoever or whatever his gaze lands on.

“Done cooking?” he asked as he looked at the pan.

I bit my lip and shut my eyes. He shouldn’t see this, alright. He shouldn’t see that the egg looked like it was cooked in the lava of a volcano because of its black color.

I heard him snort. I pouted but I didn’t show him. I don’t want him to know that I am disappointed at how he looked at my cooking.

“Remind me to not let you step into the kitchen next time, Ashanti,” he said in almost a chuckle. “You are the best when you design clothes. Just stay like that.”

This time, I looked at him with a serious gaze.

He smiled and shrugged before taking the fried rice and the eggs towards the dining table. He prepared the table while I watched him. He looked like he was having fun while fixing the table. Well, it should be fun fixing my failed cooking, I guess.

I walked towards the dining area and crossed my arms across my chest. “You don’t have to eat that. I don’t even know if they’re edible.” I bit my lip.

I’ve already accepted that I am not a good cook. But to hear him say that I needed to stay out of the kitchen seemed to have hurt my pride a little. How hard is it to be considerate of others’ feelings sometimes?

Kristoff looked at me. “I will eat them, Ashanti. Why would you tell me that they’re not edible? You cooked these,” he said before sitting. “You should come here and eat with me. We will be late for work.”

I took a deep breath and stared at him for a moment before sitting across him.

We seem to be a normal married couple. But no, we aren’t. He isn’t in love with it. I don’t think he’d fall in love with me. He probably sees me as a fangirl—someone who admires him so much.

Because I do.

I don’t know if it was college when I’ve fallen in love with him. He seemed to be the perfect guy. No, he is the perfect guy. He is handsome, intelligent, soft-spoken and rich. God has given him everything a man could wish for. And I wanted him. I wanted him so bad.