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“Whispers of Desire” is a gripping tale that unfolds the complex web of emotions surrounding Angelia and Avion, a couple whose love story takes a chaotic turn.


Initially, their relationship is filled with promise and joy, but Avion’s descent into a world of deceit and infidelity shatters the idyllic façade. As Avion repeatedly leaves Angelia hanging, their once-strong bond weakens. Amidst his betrayals, Angelia finds solace in their sympathetic, attentive neighbor, Nic.


What starts as a genuine friendship develops into a passionate affair as Angelia finds solace with Nic, and it complicates her life even further. Caught in a web of love, lies, and lust, Angelia’s life takes a critical turn when she discovers that she’s pregnant. The paternity of the child remains uncertain, hanging between Avion and Nic.


As Angelia grapples with the weight of her choices, the story delves into the intricacies of love, loyalty, and the consequences of one’s actions.

Chapter 1: Angelia

    I stood in the dressing room of the Felton Event Center as butterflies ran rampant in my stomach. Maybe, it was the unborn child I was carrying that had me feeling queasy. I stared at the woman who looked back at me from the floor length mirror. She didn’t appear to be the least bit nervous on the outside. The wedding dress that I wore seemed to be tailored by God himself and fit the curves of my body easily. The sweetheart corset squeezed the little air I had left out of me, and it did nothing to hide my growing baby bump. I didn’t mind. The only thing that mattered was that I looked like a million bucks, and I did. The diamond studded corset gave way to flowy, layered organza fabric that completed the princess look that I was going for. The elbow length gloves only added to the visual. My sister, Aija, called it extra or doing too much, but I didn’t care. It was my wedding day, so I was entitled to serve whatever look I wanted to serve. I only planned on doing this once, so I was giving everything I had.  Our mother, Constance placed a tiara on my head and gave me a once over. I couldn’t help but notice the tears that were pooling in the corners of her eyes. She was always the emotional type, and I didn’t expect anything less than her emotions on my big day. 

I was the youngest of three girls, but my older sisters weren’t in a rush to tie the knot let alone settle down. My oldest sister, Jalissa, was more concerned with building a career and making a name for herself. Her plus sized clothing boutique, Curves 4 Dayz was thriving. She was about to open her second brick and mortar location as well as selling online. Money was her motive for everything, and she was constantly chasing her bag. Our middle sister, Aija, was a thot in every sense of the word. She was bold, beautiful, and entertained a new man every couple of days. The light skinned Casanova that was her plus one for my wedding was not the same Hershey chocolate man she met at my bachelorette party. She was young, wild, and free.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. I prayed that it wasn't my fiancé, Avion. He knew that it would be bad luck to see me before the wedding, but he wouldn't give a damn. He would waltz right in here like he owned the place and dare anyone to stop him. I held my breath as the door eased open but exhaled it when I saw my father, James. He looked debonair in his double breasted, three piece tuxedo. A red rose boutonniere rested against the all-black lapel of his suit jacket, and a smile spread across his face as he saw me.

“Ladies, it's time to get this show on the road,” he said, “you look beautiful, pumpkin,”

“Pumpkin” was his nickname for me ever since I was a little girl, and I blushed gently when he called me that. It didn’t matter how old I got or where I was in life, I would always be his pumpkin. I knew it, he knew it, and everyone else knew it. I would always be Angelia, the youngest and most spoiled daughter of Constance and James Childers. My soon-to-be-husband, Avion, made sure he voiced his opinion about how spoiled I was every single day. It was evident, but he chose to marry me anyway, so he must have liked it.

Everyone shuffled out of the dressing room, leaving me standing in the middle of the floor alone.

“Are you ready?”  my father asked as his eyes stared gently into mine.

I nodded my head. I prayed that the truth wasn’t etching its way across my face as I stood there. The truth was, I didn’t know if I was ready. Deep down inside, I felt like I was making a huge mistake. Avion hadn’t been the best boyfriend or fiancé’, but we had been living together for a little over two years. According to Constance, God was frowning upon our actions. Not only that but being pregnant didn’t help the situation at all. In the words of Constance, “there wasn’t a chance in hell that her grandbaby would be born out of wedlock”. She had an image to uphold amongst the church sisters, and there was only one way of rectifying the situation. Avion had no intentions of letting me go, so there we were in the Felton Event Center about to profess some type of love for each other.

My father outstretched his hand in my direction. He wasn’t touching me, but the gesture and the smile on his face were magnetic. My feet betrayed me and started to walk in his direction. When I made it to him, he wrapped his arms around me and held me in his embrace momentarily.

    “Let’s go, Pumpkin,” he said as he led me towards the ceremony space.

    “Just don’t let me fall,”

    “If you fall, we’ll fall together,” he replied which incited a fit of giggles from both of us. 

    We walked arm-in-arm, and as we got closer to the ceremony space, my blood boiled incessantly. Nothing was how I requested it to be. A floral arch framed the entrance. The red roses that were supposed to be there were mixed frivolously with white roses and carnations. I hate carnations. They always reminded me of funerals, and I made it my business to tell my mother that I didn’t want them featured in any floral arrangement for the wedding. I was sure that Constance was determined to save a dollar or two, so she slid behind my back and had the florists add the wretched carnations. I twisted my face as we got closer to the arches.

    “Cut it out,” my father said to me as we walked, “you know the photographer is snapping constantly. You know you don’t want ugly pictures.”

    What he said held some truth. I glanced up and made eye contact with the young, African American woman that was hired to take pictures. She seemed to be focused on the LED screen of her camera, and I knew that she was taking pictures. I forced myself to smile despite the unhappiness that was coursing through me.

    We made our way to the entrance, and the guests that were sitting inside rose to their feet. The soloist made her way to the end of “Wedding Vows” by Jamie Foxx and added to the irritation that I felt. She wasn’t supposed to start the song until I stepped foot in the doorway. We had practiced it several times, but instead of doing what we practiced she screwed it up. She started early, and the song was ending by the time I got to the door. Luckily, the pianist had enough sense to keep playing as my father and I made our way down the center aisle. 

    The look on Avion’s face was priceless, and I prayed that the photographer was capturing the mixture of awe and anxiety that was written all over his face. He was never a man of few words, but it appeared that he was speechless. We made it to the end of the aisle, and my father took my hand and placed it inside of Avion’s. It was a simple gesture, but it signified his approval of our union. I passed my rose bouquet to Aija and turned to face Avion. He looked like a model from the cover of a magazine. His tuxedo was tailored to fit his muscular frame, and his haircut outlined his face with precision. I had never seen him so put together. Normally, it was basketball shorts and a sleeveless shirt. He would jazz it up whenever the event arose, but they rarely arose. He was comfortable in his skin, and even though I wanted more from him I became lackadaisical when it came to his appearance as well. Seeing him standing before me dressed to the nines was a breath of fresh air. The pastor began the ceremony, but I didn’t hear him. I stood there dazed by Avion’s appearance. I was even more dazed by the fine specimen standing behind him-- his best man, Nicholas. Nicholas, or “Nic” as the streets called him was the reason for the uneasiness that was circulating in my gut. Seeing him, in his black-on-black tuxedo and dress shirt made my heart flutter. His chocolate orbs met mine, and the same unspoken message was exchanged. We both knew that it was a huge mistake for me to be standing there across from Avion. Nic’s eyes pleaded for me to stop the madness that was occurring in front of him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I knew that him standing there watching me about to dedicate my life to another man was slowly chipping away at his insides, and I was surprised when he accepted the invitation to be Avion’s best man. I thought surely he would decline with no hesitation. They had only been friends for a little over a year, but they were friends, nonetheless. I was either going to be the glue that held them together or the wedge that ripped them apart. The jury was still out on that verdict.

The ceremony continued, and I felt like a zombie. I was going through the motions, and I silently prayed for it to be over. I had no idea that my wish would be granted sooner than anyone in the event center expected. 


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