His Own - Chapter 2：First Meeting

Rosalind stared down at her weaving. Her back ached after hours of slouching infront of the instrument, yet the cloth was not even half way done.

She is weaving what is called ‘puantean’ or her tribe’s traditional ‘skirt’, black thread was used to make cloth. It was decorated with patterns of reds, yellows, greens, pinks, and oranges. This cloth, when finished, is to be worn by her on her wedding day.

Her hair was kept neatly in a bun with sliver hairpins peaking out of it. In the sunlight, her hair pins were not the only ones sparkling. Silver streaks in her hair glimmered with it, almost making her appear as though she is glowing.

Letting out a loud sigh, she lay on her back feeling the ache spread all over her body.

“I’m never going to get this done!” She shouted, frustration filled her. “When is grandpa going to come back?”

“He’ll come back once he is done with his office work.” Her grandmother entered the room carrying a plate full of fruits. She laid them beside Roselind and sat to her right, observing the unfinished skirt with an approving nod.

Taking a mango, the girl asked, “Grandma, why am I making this again? My arms hurt~ and I’m tired~.”

“You’re making it for your wedding. You know how our family practices making our own puantean for our wedding.”

“I know that but why now ? It’s not like I am betrothed, am I?” She narrowed her eyes at her grandmother, the juice of the mango running down her arm.

“No, you are not. But that does not mean you can’t get it ready now.” Grandmother had a weary look on her face as she handed a cloth to her.

Rosalind laughed so hard she almost undid the weaving tools.

“Girl, what do you think you’re doing?” Grandmother scolded as she fixed the sticks and thread.

“I’m sorry grandma, but do you really think grandpa will ever let me marry?” She sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes. “He didn’t even allow me and my cousin in the same room. His gun will come out faster than they can say ‘may i-‘.”

A fit of coughs over took the girl, until she turned beetroot red.

Placing the girl on her lap, grandmother gently rubbed her back until the cough died down.

When her cough subsided, grandmother placed cushions on the arm of the couch and laid her there. She ran into the kitchen, boiled water and mixed some honey in it. Pouring in into a steel cup, she walked back to Rosalind.

“Here, drink up.” Grandmother handed the cup to Rosalind and watched disapprovingly as she drank the liquid in one gulp.

She placed the cup on the table beside them.

“This is why you should be careful.” Grandmother said, her tone is harsh but her eyes remained kind.

“Sorry, grandma.” Rosalind croaked.

“It’s alright. Now go back to work” Grandmother placed a kiss on her forehead and walked out the door.

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Yawning, Rosalind looked around her. The sky is a beautiful colour of orange peaking through the windows. Her garden at the left corner of the house, with its trees and flowers; those of which were carefully planted and groomed by her, beconed her.

“Wow.” She gasps. “The sky is so pretty. It would look prettier from my garden.”

She looked down at her work and back outside. Finally, some progress was seen. She was almost halfway done.

“Why does the pattern have to be so complicated? I don’t think grandma will mind if I take a bit of a break. Anyway, it’s too dark to continue.”

She hopped up from the floor, untangled herself from the weaving and ran to her garden.

The flowers were in full bloom, contrasting with the deep orange sky, it looked almost magical.

Roses, Sunflowers, Daisies, Tulips, Marigolds, and many more along with apple trees, mango trees, pineapples, lemon and orange trees and sugarcanes grew in her garden.

As it grew darker, little fireflies began to appear around her. She hummed a soft melody, plucking the best flowers and a couple of leaves. Sitting down under the orange tree at the center of the garden she started making them into a bouquet using vines and stems from other plants.

As the world around her began to get dark and the fireflies shone brighter, she felt completely at peace, breathing in the fresh, cool air. Everything that hurt her disappears when she is in her garden.

The sound of a vehicle pulled her out of her trance, immediately she perked up.

“Grandpa.”

Leaving the sanctity of her garden, she ran to the gate just as a figure entered it.

“Grandpa!” She shouted as she jumped on him, the flowers, petals and everything else from the bouquet spilled around her.

He caught her but instead of spinning her around like he usually did, he grunted and almost fell back but his grip on her remained firm. Rosalind face scrunched up in confusion.

Another silhouette walked through the gate and paused.

“Rosy?”

“Grandpa?”

Rosalind’s face held utter horror, her body trembled. She refused to look at the man holding her, wide eyes on her grandparents’ baffled face.

She closed her eyes tight, feeling the tears well up.

“Excuse me, miss.”

A deep, rough voice filled her eardrums. A shiver ran throughout her body as the voice continued to echo in her head.

I messed up.