Page 8 of The Alpha's Sold Pregnant Mate

The way they shrunk or blossomed at her touch, the way they grew unnaturally whenever she begged them to, and even the way they responded to her presence were all very strange to her. But she had no one to explain what was happening or why it was happening.

While growing up, Esme was humiliated to learn that it was not normal to speak to plants or say they were one's friends.

She was out in the school garden one afternoon when her worst nightmare, Erin, approached her with her friends.

“What're you doing, weirdo?” Erin had inquired.

“I'm talking to my friend, Sharon,” little Esme had responded.

Erin and her friends exchanged perplexed glances, and Erin said, “I don't see anyone here.”

“Sharon is not a person,” Esme explained, “She's a plant.” She gestured at it.

The girls laughed hard at her. “Forest baby now talks to the plants,” Erin mocked her. “She's so lonely that she's talking to plants.”

They laughed at her so scornfully that Esme felt really ridiculous.

“Normal people have other people as friends, not plants. Such a weirdo.” Erin walked away with her friends, leaving little Esme alone with her thoughts.

It took her a while before she fell back into the habit of talking to plants again. She'd tried to make friends with other people, but it just didn't work. Nobody wanted to even play with her, let alone be her friend.

After the incident with Tori, Esme slipped back to her old ways and decided to stick to the only friends that she knew, the ones who would never falsely accuse her or run away from her in fear.

Growing up was difficult for Esme; she had to endure a whole lot of bullshit and put up with people's insults and disrespect. What else could she have done? She was a girl who had no one to stand up for her or defend her. It was always one trouble after the other, and that became the order of the day for poor Esme.

If it wasn't for her strong will to survive and her hope for a better day, she would have taken her own life to free herself from this torture. A woman had once advised her to do just that after hitting her and cursing at her simply because she smiled at her little girl. The woman claimed that Esme's smile was demonic and that the young lady planned on enchanting her three-year-old daughter with that smile.

As ridiculous as it was, Esme laughed, and the woman, immediately on the offensive, called out to the neighbors and began to throw dirt on Esme's name, ranting about how she wanted to pass her curse on to the little girl. This wasn't the first time something like that had happened; dirt was thrown on her name every day, so there was nothing new about that. Esme knew better than to initiate anything that people could use to attack her, but the little girl was just too cute to resist.

The girl had smiled at her first, and that singular act of kindness had melted Esme's heart. How could she not return the favor? She would have been as bad as her accusers.

“It was just a harmless smile! I didn't do anything,” Esme tried to defend herself when someone from the small crowd around her pushed her to the ground, where she fell and hit her head.

“Nobody likes you, witch!” the man who had pushed her roared. “Take your curse and leave this town. Or better still…” He stepped forward and bent over her, “Kill yourself and get it over with.”

Esme felt rage swelling up within her as she touched her forehead and smeared a hand over her bloody wound. She glowered at him, seething silently as a gentle wind blew across her face, sending her black wavy hair flying backward. She balled a fist angrily, and her green eyes glowed very faintly. His eyes widened in shock when he saw it. That instant, the leaves of the orange tree under which they'd gathered began to rustle violently, drawing their attention. Considering how old it was, this particular orange tree had never born fruit, but at that very moment, fruit seemed to appear out of nowhere. Before they could wonder in astonishment how that had happened, the fruit started to rain down on them with a very powerful force, like someone very strong was throwing the fruit at them.

The fall was so violent that it immediately knocked out the man who pushed her. Everyone else scattered, running away in several directions. All but her were unaffected by the falling fruit—not a single one dropped on her head. Esme smiled at the tree, “Thank you for helping me.” She picked up as many oranges as she could stack in her basket and left, singing delightfully. The remaining oranges on the ground fed the town's kids for another three days.

When old man Job found out about the incident, he wasn't concerned with the magic fruit that fought to defend the girl. No, he was more interested in why Isaac would advise her to take her own life. It infuriated him so much that he seized the man by the collar. Isaac had just regained consciousness after that very big orange fell on him and knocked him out. He was still struggling with his headache and had thought that, as usual, old man Job would turn on his daughter, but this time, the reaction was different. He beat Isaac up, drilling into his face with his heavy fists.

“Don't…you…ever…say…that…to…her…again…!” Old man Job, enveloped by a strange feeling to defend Esme on this note, battered Isaac's face at each word. From a distance, Esme stood in shock, and her jaw dropped. Everyone else was just as shocked as she was. Old man Job hated the girl. So why did he take it to heart that his friend made such a statement? They glanced at one another in confusion. He rose to his feet, fuming, his hands covered in the blood of his friend. “I do not permit any one of you losers to instill such thoughts in her head, am I understood?”

The people around looked at him in bewilderment until he repeated the question in a louder voice that emphasized his seriousness. They nodded fearfully and left, one at a time. That was the most confusing stunt her father had ever pulled.

Even until this day, Esme hadn't drawn a reasonable conclusion as to why he would stand up to her like that, although it was a one-time thing. Regardless, nobody dared advise her to commit suicide ever since that day. They loathed her even more, and their character toward her never improved. Instead, it grew worse, but they never made comments about suicide near her again.

She was never able to summon the courage to ask old man Job why he did what he did, and she would not risk getting struck again. So, Esme lived on without getting an answer to the question that plagued her for years. She just thought that maybe he hated her so much that he saw death as a means of escape for her, and perhaps he enjoyed being abusive to her instead. Whatever it was, though, Esme wouldn't sweat it anymore.

“He despises me a lot,” Esme said to the plant she called Mr. Gary as she knelt down, watering it. “Sometimes, I wonder why he even bothers raising me if he's just going to be this cruel, you know what I mean?” She sighed. “Seriously, Mr. Gary… Why does everyone hate me so much? What exactly did I do?”

There was rustling amidst the plants, and a white, healthy, and furry squirrel soon emerged.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” She smiled at the squirrel as it cheerfully flashed its single pair of incisors. “Maybe you could help me with an answer, Jerry,” Esme added as it rushed and climbed up to her shoulder within seconds. She giggled. “You don't have any answers for me, do you, Jerry?” She glanced at it, and for a moment, it seemed like it shook its head.

“Well, maybe someday I'll be lucky enough to leave this cursed place. Yes, it's not me who's cursed. It's everyone else.” She rose to her feet, “But in the meantime, I need to keep being strong… For myself and for my mother. I know she's watching over me. How else would I have made it this far, am I right?” She chuckled as the squirrel climbed up her head and leaped off in excitement.

Esme had always wondered who she was, where she came from, who her mother was, and why she was dead in the forest when old man Job found her. Was she murdered? What exactly were the circumstances behind her mother's death? Esme had a lot of unanswered questions.

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