COPYRIGHT © 2017 Miu
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No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the Author.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All pictures and multimedia used are not the author’s work and doesn’t claim any legal rights.
MATURE CONTENT and VULGAR words not suited for young readers below eighteen (18) years old.
*whew . . .
I wiped the sweat off my face with a towel hanging around my neck. I was about to carry my basket full of mangoes when I noticed Cain wasn’t around anymore.
Where did he go?
I closed my eyes, frowning as I cursed in my head.
Is heaven really testing me?
I carried my basket and stormed off, but Tristan blocked my way.
“Let me help you,” he said, flashing me that sensual voice and killer smile that he usually gave me in my previous life, which he probably used on countless women to get what he wanted.
I used to love it, but now, it only felt like a swarm of ants was biting my skin that I wanted to stomp and stomp and STOMP hard and BURN everything!
Even though I didn’t like it, but there was this something that aroused in me when I saw Tristan again. I just couldn’t put my finger on it –– and it bothers me.
I have to avoid this man.
I shook my head, signaling for ‘no, don’t bother me, go and die, you asshole.’
I didn’t even want to waste my saliva on him.
Tristan approached me, and I backed away, giving him the most ferocious glare I could muster. I think it was working since he halted. But my happy thoughts were short-lived when he tilted his head, looking all innocent.
In the past, I used to think that he was cute when he did that. But now, I just wanted to bump his head on a rock or put dynamites in his mouth and explode his head to smithereens.
I’m getting all creatively violent here.
. . . Again . . . that feeling.
What is it?
“I don’t understand why you’re looking at me like I’m your mortal enemy. Did we meet somewhere before?”
I shook my head, refusing to talk to him.
Why am I even wasting my time on him?
I was going to left him there when he blocked my way, yet again.
I go right, he goes right.
I go left, he goes left.
Alright, that’s it!
I was prepared to drop everything and punch the dopey smile off his face when my father saved his ass.
“Mr. Clark! There you are. I was looking for you.”
My father walked towards us together with Cristy, who was roaming her eyes, searching for something.
“Ah. Mr. Lee, sorry I got side-track. Your orchard is beautiful.” Tristan shot me a winked before he faced my father.
“Yes. Thank you. I’m quite proud of it myself,” my father said and beamed before raising his head, staring passed me. “Cain, come down there before you hurt yourself.”
. . .
. . .
I turned around, and true enough –– Cain was up a tree as he climbed back down with extreme ease before he took his time in approaching us.
Was he there the whole time?
Even Tristan was surprised.
“Now, come, everyone. Snacks have been served.” My father waved his hand, gesturing for us to follow him. “Mr. Clark, why don’t you stay for lunch?”
Tristan took a quick glanced at me and smiled. “If you don’t mind having us, then we would like to take up your offer.”
“Good. I still have some things to discuss with you about the plans my wife wanted to change . . .”
My father strode ahead together with Tristan and Cristy, but not before the latter threw another peek at Cain.
“So, you were there all this time? Why didn’t you show yourself?” I said, voice low, being careful not to let the people in front hear what I was saying.
“I thought I was going to see you punch the daylights out of him,” he teased with mirth in his eyes.
“Why do I want to punch him?” I asked, laughing a bit with no humor.
“Hmm . . . you don’t? I thought you do. Your body clearly wants to.”
Sometimes, I don’t understand how this man thinks.
I had long forgiven Tristan and that bitch. Thus, the way I was acting now was to show my dislikes for them.
But something in me which I couldn’t quite put my finger on . . . that what bothers me . . . like a nagging feeling.
I shook it away with a shrugged of my shoulders and intertwined my fingers with Cain’s.
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