When Alexis’ parents forced her to marry Robert, she had no idea what she was getting herself into. Later, Alexis broke the one rule her husband gave her and entered the room he warned her about, unleashing secrets she wasn’t prepared for.
I couldn’t understand why my parents wanted me to get married before I found someone myself.
“Alexis,” my mother said, “Robert is a catch. He’s a wealthy man who will take care of you. You wouldn’t even have to work.”
I couldn’t refuse. My father had made it clear.
“You marry Robert, Alexis,” he said, puffing on his cigar. “Or you can figure out your own living arrangements.”
In a sense, Robert was my prince charming. Our family had a bakery, which was losing customers because we had no gluten-free options on the menu.
“We will continue to bake what we know,” my father insisted.
Our marriage was definitely an arranged one. Robert’s demeanor was cold, and he refused to let me get to know him properly. I don’t know how my father arranged our connection.
Our wedding was a spectacle of Robert’s affluence, nothing short of extravagant. Robert’s wedding planner had thought of everything.
My wedding dress was a custom piece that he commissioned for me. But even through our wedding planning, we barely spoke.
“I’m looking forward to being married,” he admitted one evening, a few days before the wedding.
“But I don’t know what I’m doing,” he added.
That was the closest Robert had gotten to letting me in.
Two days after our wedding, I moved into our new home.
“Come, I’ll show you around,” Robert said.
He took me around our home, a mansion boasting luxuries I’d never imagined before: sprawling golf courses, a shimmering swimming pool, and a fleet of staff at our beck and call.
“It’s beautiful,” I said when we got to the kitchen. “Everything is beautiful.”
“Now, Alexis, this house belongs to you too,” he declared with a hint of pride.
I smiled at the stranger standing in front of me. Maybe we were going to make something of our marriage.
“But one thing, Alexis,” he said. “There’s one rule. The attic. Never go in there.”
I nodded at Robert. I couldn’t fathom why I wouldn’t be allowed anywhere in the house. But I also recognized that I didn’t know my husband well enough yet. So, I had to obey.
A few days later, Robert went to a meeting, leaving me alone in our massive home.
Driven by curiosity stronger than any warning, I found myself ascending the stairs to the attic. My heart pounded with a mix of fear and excitement. I knew I didn’t have a lot of time.
A quick in and out, I thought to myself.
Pushing the door open, I was met with a sight that sent me to my knees, tears streaming down my face. I didn’t know why I was crying. I didn’t know why I felt confusion and relief at the same time.
The attic, dimly lit, seemed to be a vault of my husband’s hidden memories. Childhood toys lay scattered, each carrying untold stories. Old postcards and photographs of Robert’s life before me. Among the relics were letters from a young boy to his father, a soldier away at war.
“How dare you come in here? Now, I have to change the locks in my own home because my wife does not respect my requests?”
Robert’s face turned red with rage.
“I just want to understand,” I stammered. “I just want to know you, Robert.”
Slowly, his rage dissolved, and he seemed to see me as a companion in his world, instead of the intruder he had made me out to be.
“Alexis,” he said, “Come, let’s sit.”
Robert led me to the living room.
“My father was a stern man. He was a soldier and he believed in keeping emotions locked away. These are the only things I have of a time when I felt loved,” he confessed.
My heart caught on his every word as his voice broke.
What followed was a revelation of his soul. Stories of a lonely childhood, of a boy yearning for his father’s approval, unfolded in our home.
In those vulnerable moments, I didn’t see the distant, cold man I had married but a boy who had never stopped seeking love and acceptance. He just didn’t know how to go about it.
In those few hours, things changed. Robert started letting me in. And now, years later, our home is filled with the cries and laughter of our daughter, April.
Through our daughter, Robert healed. He healed for himself, and for our daughter.
We’ve packed away everything from the attic, so it is no longer a shrine to Robert’s past but is now my little reading nook.
Quick and Easy Homemade Fresh Cheese
Hi there, cheese enthusiasts! Do you feel like having something really tasty that is also creamy and fresh? What if I told you that it would just take you fifteen minutes to create your own cheese at home? It is true, indeed! A few basic ingredients and a little culinary wizardry will allow you to create an impressive batch of fresh cheese that you make yourself.
Why Make Cheese at Home?
Although it can seem difficult to make cheese at home, it’s actually very simple. It’s also a lovely method to ensure that your food is fresh and natural by knowing exactly what’s going into it. The components are basic, the method is short, and the end product is mouthwatering.
What You’ll require:
Let’s Prepare Some Cheese!
First, fill the big pot with milk and bring it to a simmer over medium heat. Keep an eye on it and stir it from time to time to make sure nothing gets stuck to the bottom. The magic will begin to happen as bubbles start to develop around the edges!
After removing the heat, squeeze in some lemon juice or white vinegar. As you observe the milk start to curdle, gently stir it. This is the magical time when milk becomes cheese, my friends. At this point, we’re practically wizards of food.
Give the mixture ten minutes or so to settle. The whey, or liquid, and the curds, or lumpy particles, will separate during this period. Interesting fact: Little Miss Muffet had a good idea.
It’s time to strain the mixture after it has sat and separated. Pour the mixture through a fine strainer or cheesecloth that has been lined over a bowl. If you don’t want cheese all over your kitchen, please take your time with this step.
Pull the cheesecloth together and gently squeeze it to get some of the whey. Squeeze a little more if you prefer your cheese firmer. To taste, add a pinch or two of salt and stir. And voilà! You have fresh, handmade cheese at your disposal.
What makes this cheese so good? It is quite adaptable. You may eat it right out of the bowl, sprinkle it in a salad, or spread it over some crusty toast. I’m not passing judgment here.
Finally
Folks, there you have it! Not only is it simple to make fresh cheese at home, but it’s also enjoyable and very fulfilling. In about fifteen minutes, you may also boast to your friends that you have turned into a cheese artisan. Now, how affluent do you feel?
Thus, the next time you’re in the mood for something delicious and fresh, make your own instead of buying anything from the shop. Your family and your taste buds will appreciate it.
Cheeze on!
Dwight’s Opinion: To be honest, creating cheese at home is like to discovering a hidden level in a video game. It’s easy, enjoyable, and yields some seriously tasty results. Who doesn’t enjoy a little culinary magic, too?
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