BROKEN PROMISES
Chapter 1

Abilasha

     I was born on a rainy evening at Liberty Hospital in New York on May 8th. I was the first American born person in my family; my parents migrated from India two years before I was born. From what I remember of my first five years being raised by my parents was perfect. My parents had me out of love and expressed that love to me often. Everything changed when my parents died during a robbery and I was put into foster care. Everything I had known and loved was ripped from me and all I had left was myself. After my first year in the small and over crowded orphanage my wishes changed from wishing my parents were alive to being taken in by a family who would care for me. Three years had passed since my parents’ death and I was starting to give up hope but everything changed in September of my eighth year.

     A nice Caucasian family from the south came and took me in. They seemed perfect. They were attractive, nice, dressed well, and seemingly really wanted me but as soon as they got me to their home in Richmond, Virginia it was like everything changed. They weren't nice people and it seemed as if their life's goal was to make my life miserable. Whenever we were along in their home they would let me know I was unwanted and unloved and that the only reason they kept me around was for the check they got for me every month. I grew up not thinking very much of myself even though I was always complimented on my looks by other people. I felt as if I was incapable of being loved but that all changed during the summer of my sixteenth year.

     I was at VCU's library reading a book when one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen walked in. He was taller than me at 5'10" and had smooth dark brown skin. Every feature of his built the wonderful masculine structure that he was and I was immediately attracted to him but I didn't even bother hoping to wish that something would come out of it. I knew he would never see anything in me and so I didn't bother to get my hopes up. I went upstairs to the cafe and got a hot latte before heading back to my seat only to see the guy I had been checking out earlier sitting at my table looking over my book.

     I took a deep calming breath and turned around to head the other way when I heard a smooth voice saying, "Excuse me miss."

     I turned around to see the guy walking up behind me with my book in hand. I fought down a blush as I said, "Yes?"

     "I just noticed you leaving and I wanted to introduce myself," he replied. "I'm Omari."

     "It's nice to meet you. My name is Abilasha," I replied.

     His faced frowned in uncertainty for a minute before he said, "Can you pronounce it for me."

     I smiled and slowly annunciated my name. "It's pronounced Ah-Bill-Ah-Sha."

     "That's an interesting name. Where does it come from?" he asked.

     "It's an Indian name. It means desire," I replied.

     "Well I don't want to keep you. Would you like to go out sometime?" he asked me.

     I was shocked. I had never been asked on a date before and this man, who could clearly have any girl he wants, was interested in me. "I would love to."

     "Great," he replied before jotting down his cell phone number and told me to call him.

     Our first date led to many others and before I knew it I was in love and had a boyfriend. Omari was the sweetest guy and genuinely cared for me. I had never felt anything like this before so when Omari asked me to marry him when he decided to transfer from VCU to UCLA. I agreed and after a quick visit with a judge I found myself moving across the country to Omari's home state.

     I'm not going to lie and say things changed immediately and that things were all bad. I mean Omari was a great husband at first and we had some good times. I do believe that in my heart of hearts that Omari did love me once. He gave me affection, spent time with me, and paid my way through college. I think things started to change when I got pregnant with Ava. We had been together for five years and married for three of those years. I had always had an abnormal period and it wasn't unusual for me to skip a couple of months so I didn't know I was pregnant until I was already five months along.

     At first, Omari was happy and excited about the thought of being a father and it helped that I was horny a lot during my pregnancy, but what I think got to him was the amount of weight I gained during the nine months and how hard it was to loose it. I went from a curvy sized 10 to a plump 16 and added to the fact that I was basically the primary care giver of our child I didn't have the time to set aside to actually get down and exercise.

     In the beginning of it I think he was just excited to see Ava, who was beautiful and I'm not just saying that because she's mine, but my body image reduced terribly after I had her and couldn't go down to my normal size so sex wasn't as appealing as it used to be. I mean I was still intimate with Omari because I didn't want to loose him but it wasn't...fun anymore. At least not for me. For the first two years of Ava's life, everything was fine but then I started noticing things.

     I saw how Omari's eye would wander whenever we went out but I let it go and told myself that he was just looking and that as long as he didn't act on it, it would be fine. Then he started 'working late' and that got to me. He has an at home office and a copy of his files are located there. There was no reason for him to work late at the office and that's when the suspicion started.

     I guess in the back of my mind I always knew that Omari was seeing someone else but I didn't want to believe it. I tried to justify the clues he left like when he came home smelling like floral perfume I would say it was because he had been in a meeting with female clients, or that the reason he was being defensive when I asked him questions was because of work related stress. When he finally told me that he was seeing someone else and that he wanted a divorce I was devastated. The fact that I had suspicions didn't take any of the edge off. I think it hurt even more to actually hear him say he didn't love me anymore than actually knowing.

     He was the first person I've honestly loved. The only man I'd been with and the only person I had. My foster sister was nice to me when we were kids but I hadn't spoken to her in years. I was a stay at home wife and even though I had a degree I had no experience and that said that I wouldn't be making money, especially in California. I had nothing and the final blow to the situation was when I found out who Omari was in love with.

     Priscilla Adams was his secretary and had been for the last year and a half. Whenever I would come to the office she would be extra sweet and I guess I should have known then that she was over compensating for something but I trusted my husband. She was attractive, I won't take that from her, with a flat stomach and a big ass but she wasn't drop dead gorgeous. She enhanced her looks with colored contacts, dark burgundy color treated hair that was lengthened and thickened with weave, and long acrylic coated nails. I'd seen hundreds like her in school and to see the way Omari acted around her was sickening.

     I packed Ava's and my things and left the house I had known as home for the last four years and we stayed in a cheap motel for a couple of months while I went to court to get custody of her as well as some child support and alimony. During the three months of the divorce I'd seen Priscilla twice. Once when I went to pick up the last of my daughter's things, which was when I found out that he'd moved her into our home, and again at the last day of court. I'll never forget that day. She was dressed in this ugly Giorgio Armani suit and a pair of Gucci shoes that must have cost more than any complete outfit Omari has ever let me buy and on her left finger was a beautiful three stone engagement ring. Two pear shaped sapphires surrounded a perfect round white diamond. The ring wasn't the hugest or most expensive ring I'd seen, I lived in LA, but it was the fact that we weren't even divorced yet and he was already engaged. That he thought so much of her to buy her an engagement ring but that in the eight years we'd been married he'd never once thought to get me a tiny engagement ring to make up for the one I'd never gotten. All I got was a thin silver band that couldn't have cost more than one tenth of what her ring cost. That was like the twist of the blade for me and any love or hope of reconciliation I had for Omari went right out of the fucking window.

     When I walked out of court that day I tossed my wedding band into the nearest garbage and started to seriously look for a job. I had been searching before but those were for jobs that paid decent and were something I could use my degree in journalism for. Now I just searched for something that would pay well and would put food on the table if Omari decided to stiff me on child support. I knew well enough to know that it could happen and I didn't want my child's livelihood to depend on him.

     I got a job working at Starbucks, which paid a somewhat decent salary but the benefits more than made up for that. My paycheck and alimony afforded me the luxury of a junior suite at Queen's Village. Queen's Village was an okay apartment complex. I mean it wasn't one I would have chosen for my first or second choice, but it wasn't in the ghetto. The junior suite was small but it was cheaper than a two bedroom apartment and still had a room for Ava to have her own space.

     It was hard trying to pay the bills that amounted along with Ava's babysitting fee's but luckily she had just turned five and was old enough to start kindergarten. It was about a month into November when Andrea Tran, this girl I had been working with, came in and pulled me to the side. She had trained me and was one of the few friends I'd had. She attended UCLA and woked at Starbucks part time to help pay off some of her loans. During our break she told me about this nanny position that had opened. She told me that there was this guy who lived in the Hills and was looking for a live-in nanny. The job paid double what Starbucks paid and he was offering an independant health care plan that he would pay for. The job seemed damned near perfect but there was still the fact of if it was so perfect why wasn't she applying.

     When I asked she laughed and told me that the person would need to be flexible and seeing as she went to school and had activities she participated in she couldn't be on call at all hours. She grabbed a sheet of paper and jotted the information down and gave it to me before wishing me luck. I glanced over the number for the next couple of days before I picked up the phone and called the number while wishing for the best.