Page 14 of His Collateral Wife

Please!

I feel like I'm losing my mind even as I take a shower as fast as I can, and when I dash to the huge walk-in closet that comes with my bedroom---

Whoa.

It's my first time to see what's behind the floor-to-ceiling custom-built cabinets, and the sheer number of clothes he's somehow found a way to make available for me is mind-blogging. I feel like I suddenly have my own boutique to dress myself with, and I...

I can't help but feel terrified.

Because things seem too good to be true, and so there has to be a catch.

Help me understand, God.

Trials that are meant to make me tougher and my faith stronger, I'm totally used to. But dreams come true like this, I have zero experience with, and so it leaves me almost paralyzed with confusion.

Are all these material comforts a reward from God or a well-designed temptation from the devil?

Please, Father.

A part of me still feels unworthy and crazy for thinking of myself as a child of God. But I also know that's the devil talking as well.

Please protect me.

Please.

My chest eases, and I start breathing a little more easily again. I reach for the first dress that catches my eye, and the soft cotton fabric cascades down my body like every stitch of it has been sewn according to my measurements.

Its draped skirt swirls around my legs as I move, and I feel even more like a ballerina as I step into a pair of heels adorned with delicate-looking ribbons.

Mr. No-Longer-A-Stranger-But-Still-In-Charge is still alone in the hallway when I come out of my bedroom. His dark gaze glints when he looks at me, and it takes everything in me not to blush and feel self-conscious.

He's making me feel like I dressed up for him, but I swear I didn't.

You can read my mind, God.

You know I didn't.

I truly didn't.

It's the honest-to-goodness truth, but why is there this suddenly insidious voice I'm hearing in my head taunting me about lying to myself?

"Shall we go?"

His gaze turns thoughtful when I only nod in response, but just when I think things are about to get awkward once more, he finally turns, and I bite back a sigh of relief.

Oh, thank God, thank You.

I follow behind him in silence, and it's like having an impromptu house tour as he takes me to the back of the house. All of the hallways are carpeted and adorned by either expensive-looking paintings or sculptures while the rooms we've walked past are all spacious and elegantly appointed.

The gardens at the back are just as impressive as the ones we drove past the night before, but their beauty completely escapes me. The moment I hear dogs barking, it's as if time has stood still, and the world has stopped turning.

Can this really be happening?

Anyone else would've probably been sick and tired of hearing me ask this again and again, but because my God is perfect and perfectly loving---

(Yes, child. It is.)

We finally reach the kennels, and its appearance alone makes me feel like weeping. My babies used to be housed in a makeshift shed that wasn't any much different from the dungeons my father used to torture his captives.

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