Billionaire's Accidental Wife novel Chapter 15

Chapter 15 One year later. Chelsea’s Diary.

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Dear Diary, The beautiful grasslands, bright sunshine, and enormous acres of undeveloped land never cease to astonish me. Every morning, I wake up just before dawn to hear the first tweets of native birds and the delicate rustle of towering trees kissing the sky outside my window.

But it’s the huge gray elephants with their gorgeous ivory tusks and lengthy, wrinkled trunks that I appreciate the most about my home. They are quite kind with the locals, especially the youngsters, who regard them as pets as well as companions. The contact between animal and man in this scene is organic and spontaneous; none is afraid of the other. Kenya’s breathtaking beauty has been my home for the past one year.

However, the adjective “beautiful” is not restricted to merely the land. I have an unfathomable bond to the people here as well, and my heart hurts a little as I look down at the wild smiles of the children playing football on their lunch break.

I am alone in the classroom now with my suitcases packed at my feet. A tear streams down my face as reality sinks in. I have been dreading this day. Nothing could have prepared me for the teary goodbyes from my students and their pleas for me to stay. I am so melancholic, heartbroken and weary all at the same time. My body is frozen in place as I continue to stare at the beaming faces of my orphaned kids. They have become more than just students to me. I love them like they are my own. The tears pour out like an uncontrollable flood.

How can I leave them? It’s been almost a year now, and this land has become my life since I left. Dave in Paris. I have my reason, and it is more complicated than that. I’ve never heard any of them, not even Jane. Catherine and especially Dave. I have my new life now. But I can tell you just yet.

But how do I say goodbye to the most beautiful, loving and happy children I have ever met? Children who, despite their unfortunate circumstances, greet me each day with exclamations of, “Hello Miss!” followed by an enthusiastic hug.

Their determination and courage are inspiring and as I prepare to leave, I vow to take a tiny piece of their little souls with me, to keep in my heart. “Chelsea…it’s time,” comes a soft maternal voice from behind me.

Miss Maya, the leader of the volunteer staff at Alfonso Orphanage, appears at the classroom doorway, ready to accompany me to the cab.

I take one last look around my classroom before leaving for what could be the last time. I catch a glimpse of my kids’ charts, sketches, and personal things. The mural we created was originally riddled with bullet holes, and the tank of the little baby turtle we nursed back to health is on the back wall. I see a flicker of their raised, passionate hands to solve a math

question as I turn my gaze down to their desks.

I will myself to be strong and reach down to collect my luggage, exhaling a long, deep exhale. I go with Miss Maya through the orphanage, past the bunk beds, other classrooms, and cafeteria, remembering where each of my children sleeps and what their favorite lunch dish is.

Finally, my journey through the halls of my home for the last one year is nearing its end, and I as step outside of the orphanage, I am bombarded by a sea of tiny arms swallowing me up in hugs and kisses.

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I am jolted from my thoughts by a friendly flight attendant asking me to adjust my seat to prepare for landing. Another tear streams down my face as I prepare for the descent. I brush it away hastily. I must stay strong. The fond memories of my one year in Kenya have left me weary and emotional. So much so, that I barely notice the skyscrapers as we glide over London. The journey has just flown by and I was so lost in my memories of Kenya earlier that I forgot I have not seen my sister in over one year. I also have not been able to speak to her much during my time at the orphanage, as connections in Kenya were somewhat unreliable. There was no way of emailing, Skyping or texting anyone back home.

Every few months, I had to travel to Nairobi on a rickety bus and buy an expensive calling card. But even then I was lucky if the call made it through or if I was able to hear my sister on the other end. I have almost forgotten the sound of her son’s sweet and loving voice. I have almost forgotten how much I have missed her and, although I am still deeply saddened to have left Kenya, Christie and her son are the one thing that does make me feel some joy about coming home.

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