A DIFFERENT MOOD

Mrs. Riccaforte was my mother's best friend ever since I can remember. I can vividly recall how much she wept when my mother died. I understand her masked coldness towards this bitch who came to replace my father.


"Hi," is all Mrs. Riccaforte can afford in response.

"Welcome. Please meet my daughter, Ne."

"Hello, my dear! Look at you!" I snap to Mrs. Riccaforte's exclamation of my presence. A confused grin appears on my lips as she pulls me for a bear hug. Huh, I didn't expect this, but I welcome it all the same. "Good to see you, dear. You have grown so beautiful," he remarks after pulling away, her eyes darting everywhere in my body with appreciation.


Wait, she, they are not mad at all with me? I thought I would receive a cold welcome from them. Yet here she is, all smiles like nothing odd has happened between us. Even her husband looks cool.

"Uumh. I am humbled, Mrs. Riccaforte. You look fantastic and so young," I respond. Not at all flirting because, my, she is glowing like a teenager. Her spotless face is without a single trace of wrinkles. How old is she again?


She laughs my compliment off in a sweet way. "Ooh, thanks for the flattery, my child. You have made me feel like a sweet sixteen for once in old age."

Old? Well, she is glowing like she was in her youth. It is like she is aging backwards. Aging gracefully. "You do look adorable, for real. And I love your dress too," I add.

"After thirty-seven years of marriage, she still looks beautiful and flawless. I always tell her that she looks like a twenty-year-old, but she insists that she is old," Mr. Riccaforte chips in, pulling his beautiful wife to his side while I clutch to my father's hand.

Again, restlessness kicks in, and I find my eyes darting everywhere. Where is this son of theirs? He better not take revenge on me and fail to show up. This day should be full of zero drama.

"I agree with you, Mr Riccaforte. She is very beautiful. I think I need some lessons from her," I say, trying to act composed, but I know I am failing big times.

"Ooh, but your beauty is beyond words, my dear. My son is such a lucky man, and we are too. It will be a great honor to have you in our family. Should I say, "Welcome to our home" in advance?" Mr Riccaforte says:.

I blush at his question, looking down and pondering on how to respond to it. Is that my fate? Will I really be married to their family? Will it even be fair if neither I nor their son will ever be happy in that marriage?

"Forgive our manners," Father breaks the awkward silence, saving the situation because I was getting lost in the world of my own, forgetting all around me. Someone tell me how I can deal with all this? What will I do with my heart and my Damian? 'Please come on in. We can talk more inside," Papa comes to my rescue, ushering everyone in while I snuggle into his arm, my eyes sweeping behind us as they scan for that unfamiliar face.

Why the heck is he not with them?

We sit around the table, and the food is served, which we eat with a few chit-chats here and there, except for these two witches, who seem so out of place. Their heads are bowed down to their players all the while.

We are about to empty our plates. My phone hasn't flickered, meaning that there is still no response from Damian, and neither has this so-called betrothed of mine showed up. And what is itching me the most is that nobody is saying a word about his whereabouts. Can't nobody notice his absence? No? Great? Then why has not a single soul noticed how I am doing with anxiety right under this watch? Good grief! The food is beginning to lose its taste. I haven't eaten much, but I feel full already. The anxiety is killing me. I am begging to lose my cool.

"So, Ellie?"

Ooh, no! I need everything I can to distract me from this anxiety and paranoia, but not this one. What does this ostrich want now? I hope she is not thinking of starting a fight in front of the distinguished guests.

All the countless eyes snap in her direction. "Yes?" I query, sounding as civil as I can afford.

"Why don't you tell us about your adventures in Mombasa? You know, as we pass time."

See this witch! What the fuck does she care about my adventures?

"My daughter was..."

I hold my father's hand, stopping him from defending me. I don't want this to sound like I am hiding something. Damian is the only thing that they shouldn't know for now. Aside from that, I have nothing else to hide, and they better not get on my nerves because I don't know what I will do. I am under so much pressure as it is already. I have no room for their games.

"Yes, how was Mombasa, dear? Was it fun? It should have been because Mombasa is definitely fun itself," Mrs. Riccaforte adds.

I clear my voice. I can't entertain the thrill of recapping all the adventures because I will arouse unnecessary suspicions. "I was on a business adventure, to be honest. But, of course, I set aside some time to tour the major tourist sites. I had had fun," I respond.

"Wow! That was a great change of scenery. What exactly did you do there?" Riccaforte asks.

"I continued my expertise at a certain motel. It is a chain, actually. One of the best in the city of Mombasa. I also started my own coffee shop there," I state, and everyone is shocked.

"I admire you. Not because you are about to become my daughter-in-law, but because you are a rare gem. You are slowly falling into the footsteps of your father," Mrs. Riccaforte states while the rest nod their heads.