Betrothed episode 25


🌃✨🌇She has supernatural powers🌃✨🌇

🧚‍♂️🧚🧚🧚‍♂️Episode 25💋💋

💋💋Getting It Back💋💋




Vanessa Pov

I woke up really early the next morning. I tried going back to

sleep, but I just couldn’t and that pounding in my head made me

gro-an ed.

I am a hangover. Why did I do this to myself.

I sat up and right away I notice that Jason wasn’t in the room.

This was just like every morning, realizing that he doesn’t sleep here


I gro-an ed again as a handache kicked in.

I am one dead meat.

I sighed, slowly heading for the door. I wanted to gr-ab something

to drink.

I held onto the stair case railing, praying that I couldn’t fall.

I notice that nob©dy was out here – not even the maidens that

wake up so early everyday.

10 minutes later, I found the kitchen and turned on the lights.

I opened all of the cabins because I couldn’t find any cu-ps on the


Finally, finally a glas-s cu-p, I grinnned. I washed it and was about

to pour my water when the kitchen door slided open.

I jumped, dropping the glas-s cu-p in my head.

The glas-s cu-p shatterred into a million of piece.

I g@sped.

Soon realized that it was Mrs. Cohen’s proporty and it might be

her that’s here.

I slowly looked up praying that it wasn’t here.

Instead it was James – thank the Lord.

“James?” I said, want are you doing here?” I asked.

He shrugged, “Woke up and couldn’t sleep. I saw that the kitchen

light was opened so I decided to st©p by.”

He stared at the glas-s.

I blu-shed.

“I’ll clean it up.” I said, quic-kly, “Do you know where the towles


“No . . .”

“But don’t you live in this house longer than me? How do you not


“I do live in this house longer than you, but I don’t know where

the towels are. The maiden shifted everything. I know everything so

well here that when I was little, I would just walk in here with the

lights shut and I would still know where the food are.” he said.

I sm-irked, “You eat at night?”

He shrugged, smiling a little.

“n@ûghty boy!” I said, shaking my head and smiled.

“Fine, I will ask you the simplest question, since I haven’t been

here before. Do you know where the garbage can is?” I said the

question slowly.

“Yes, in here.” he said, grinning.

“Can you take it out? We nee-d to clean these glas-s up.” I asked.

“We?” he asked.

“Yes, we . . . we are going to clean this. You were the one that

scared me.” I said and took the garbage can out.

“Fine.” he said, dragging his word.

“Are you sure you really don’t know where the towels are?”

“Yep, I don’t know where they are.” he said.

I sighed, “Maybe I have to pick it up with my own hands.”

I slow picked up the pieces of glas-s and threw it out.

“Wait where are the maidens?” I asked.

“Today is there day off.” he said.

I nodded and went back to picking the pieces up.

There was a long moment of silence in the air.

“So how are you and Jason doing?” he asked, breaking the

silence and startling me at the same time.

I dropped the glas-s and the glas-s’s edge cut my skin.

My eyes wi-de-ned.

“I got a cut!” I said, “Bandage!”

“I gonna try to find one, wait here!” James said, running out of the


Let’s just hope that he knows where the bandages are! I thought

to myself.

I stared at my cut for who knows how long, until James c@m£


“Here, is the bandage, I tried to find a smaller one, but I gave up.”

he said, handing me the enormous bandage.

I took it anyways and put it around my cut.

“Great.” I said.

I notice that James started putting bandages on his f!ngers.

“Wait, did I cut you? Look, I sorry – ”

“NO! I am just putting on bandage so the glas-s wouldn’t cut me, it

will cut the bandage. Since we don’t have towels to pick it up, this

way is more safe.” he said.

I grinned, “Smarticle p@rticle.”

“Ok, now, let’s pick everything up.” he said.


I dusted my p@n-ts off and peeled all of the bandages off, except

for the one that has a cut.

“Finally done!” I said, crushing all of the bandages into a ball and

threw it in the garbage can using my “awesome” basketball scores.

But of course, I am not that sporty type of girl, so I epically missed.

He smiled and threw it away for me.

I stretched.

“Let’s get out of the kitchen.” James said.

What a coincident? Right after that, my stomach grumbled.

My hvgged my stomach and blu-shed.

James sm-irked.

“Ok.” he said, stretching his words.

“Can you cook?” I asked, blu-shing even more, knowing that I

can’t cook and I am a girl. I am not S-xist, it’s just that I had took

cooking clas-s for 2 years and I still can’t cook rice or boil water

without waiting for an hour realizing that I forgot to turn on the stove


James bugged his eyes, “Unless you want to get poisoned.”

I smiled, I guess me and him are on the same boat.

“Can you cook?” he asked, “You’re the one that wants food.”

“You must have extraordinary taste and patient if you like my

cooking.” I said, raising both of my eyebrows.

He grinned.

“Ok, so who is going to cook if both of us don’t know how to

cook?” he asked.

“Both of us.” I said.

“Again?” he asked.

“Fine, than do whatever you want, you have nothing to do too.

Everyone is asleep anyways and it would be rude if you just wake

them up.” I said, smiling innocently.

“Fine, what do you want to make?” he asked.

“Omelet.” I said, choosing something super simple to made.

“Ok, let’s get started.”

I gr@bb£d 4 eggs, milk, salt, water, flour and sugar.

“I think those are the ingredients.” I said.

James gr@bb£d the pan and lit up the stove.

I crackled the egg.

“What the hell?!”

“What?” I asked, looking at James.

“You were suppose to put oil.”

“No you don’t!” I said, “Who put oil in eggs?”


“Not me.” I said, shrugging him off and used a turner to fl!pthe


Hey, I can’t find the fl!pturner!

“Hey!” I exclaimed over my shoulder, “I can’t fl!pthe egg!”

James laughed.

“Hey! St©p laughing and help me!”

“See! I told you to put oil in the pan before you put the egg.”

“Ok, I gotcha, now what do I do with the egg? I’m having a ha-rd

time fli-pping it.” I said.

“Throw it away, it’s not edible.”

I threw the egg away and decided to cook again.

I poured the oil first and than the egg.

This time when I tried to turn it, it was easier.

“See my point?” James asked, behind my shoulder.

I blu-shed.

Than I put in the salt.

“Aren’t you suppose to put in the sugar?” James asked.

“Sugar? In egg?” I asked.

“Yeah, every egg that I eat is a little bit sweet.”

“SWEET?! What planet are you from?” I asked.

He rolled his eyes, “I swear!”

I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrow.

“Whatever!” I sung.

I poured in 2 cu-ps of water, stirred the egg.

“Water, are you sure?” James asked.

“Yeah, water loos£n the egg, ma-king it soft and not stiff.” I said,

talking like a teacher teaching a dumb kid.

“Soft?” James asked like he never hear that word before.

“Yeah, but we don’t want it too soft so you put in flour. My cooking

teacher said that flour and water together make things that are not

too soft and not too stiff.” I said.

“Ok, just remind me not to eat that so – called omelet.”

“Hey! I don’t insult your cooking skills! So don’t insult mine,

unless you want me to comment on everything you do!” I said,

pointing my ‘urner at him.

He held up his hand to show that he surrendered.

I stirred the pan and next thing you know, it was a blob of light

brow cl@ylooking thing in the pan.

James laughed.

I blu-shed and silently threw the egg away.

“Let the pro handle this.” James said, pushing me aside.

“The ‘pro’, huh?” I asked.

“Yep, step aside, let Chief James walk throu-gh!” he said.

I laughed.

He put the bu-tter and cracked the egg like he had lived in the

kitchen his whole life. He put the sugar and salt in the egg.

“Why are you putting salt when you asked me not to?” I asked,

crossing my arms.

“Because it can taste salty and sweet, but I put in more sugar

than salt.” he said. I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms.

He poured in cornstarch and started stirring it.

“Why are you putting cornstarch?”

“That’s is how you get the white color.”

I raised my eyebrows.

He put in bu-tter. According to him, he said that bu-tter makes it


He closed the lid and we waited for 20 minutes.

“It’s not finish cooking, yet.”

“Than, when will be it finished?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ever I, the – not – so – good – at – cooking – person know that an

omelet does not take that long to cook.” I said.

He opened the lid again and it was one ugly omelet. Ugly.

“I don’t think that is edible.” I whispered pointing at the omelet.

He threw that away.

“You know what? I think I cook better than you.” I said, taking the

turner from James’s hands.

“What?! That is not true.” James said, taking the turner back.

“Is too.”

“Is not!”

“Give it back.” I said, giving a ha-rd yank.

“No way, you were the one wasting the egg!”

“Are you joking? Who in this world put cornstarch in their

omelet!? Cornstarch!!” I said.

“SO? Who puts SALT in their omelet?” he asked, yanking the

turner towards him.

“Give it to me!”

“No, give it to – ”

“James? Vanessa?” a voice asked.

I squeaked, letting go off the turner that James was yanking

back, as a result he fell on his back.

“Jason?” I asked, scratching my head, “Morning?”

He looked from me to James and back.

“What are you guys doing here?”

I blu-shed, “Trying to . . . cook some omelet to eat . . . But I guess

I will stick with the granola bars.” I said.

I gr@bb£d the granola bars and existed the kitchen.

Why didn’t I just eat the granola bars in the very first place???!!

I handed one of the granola bars to James.

“Jason, do you want one?” I asked, turning around.

He scoffed and turned his heels and said “No.”

I frowned, “What’s up with him?”

James shrugged.

“B.P.” I said.

“What?! What is that?”

“It stands for Boy Period.”

James snorted, taking a bite of the granola bar. I grinned.