Mistakes Made ✅

Chapter 1: Feeling Nostalgic

[Tim Borrmann as Errol]

A/N
Quick words: for those of you who don't know, this is a spin-off to one of my books, Now You Know.

No need to worry, though, you can read this as a stand-alone 👌👌

"But Dad ... I want it!"

"Honestly, Tanya, I didn't bring enough money with me today,"

Errol watched as the little girl - looking no older than seven - pouted before she squared her shoulders, clearly upset that her father couldn't buy her the new batch of red velvet cupcakes. It was just newly advertised; sleek poster slipped between the slit of the clear acrylic stand on the edge of the counter. The cupcakes themselves were displayed at the topmost shelf in the cylindrical cooler, rotating about its silver rod, velvet body catching the golden light and glinting - almost as if in a beguiling manner.

A rush of sympathy went over Errol as the father gave his daughter an apologetic look - one he knew would take weeks before his daughter could finally forgive him. Parents and children came to the food parlour often, and nearly all of them developed second thoughts after declining their children's request of buying scrumptious desserts. Errol couldn't help but feel amused. Not because he could completely relate to them. Rather, it was more to the marvelling concept of being an ordinary human full of ambivalence.

"It's free," Errol blurted out, knowing fully well that he would be fired should his manager hear about this.

"Really?" The man looked up in surprise.

"Yep," he smiled, flashing them the straight white teeth that drew people's attention - a habit he couldn't quite get rid of. "For lovely children like her, those cupcakes are free! You can only take one, though."

The girl - Tanya - upon hearing this, began to tug at her father's sleeve. "Oh, Dad, please please please please-"

"Oh, all right," he gave in, addressing Errol while doing so. "Can I have one of those?"

Errol felt his face split into a wide grin. He couldn't help it; it felt nice to be nice.

The girl was practically jumping on her heels as Errol handed her father the small box that now contained her red velvet cupcake in a brown bag. "Say what, honey?"

"Thank you!" she said in a shrill voice, obviously ecstatic.

"You're very welcome." Errol winked, earning a blush from the little girl, who ducked her head afterwards.

Errol couldn't help the feeling as though a hawk was keeping a weather eye on him right after the two of them left the parlour. Sure enough, as soon as they were out of sight, and Errol made to swivel on his heels to head for the kitchen, Abeela had her arms crossed over her chest. She was leaning her shoulder against the doorframe that led to the kitchen, one foot tucked behind the other, squinting in his direction.

If Errol didn't know any better, she was practically blocking his way into the kitchen. Besides that, he got that look from her quite a lot; the scepticism that radiated off her was almost tangible. He couldn't entirely blame her, though. One; there was no denying the fact that he came off as a fairly dubious homo sapiens. Past affairs had corroborated that, all right. Second; Abeela simply terrified the living wits out of him.

He knew it was absurd - not to mention that it made him sound like a pretentious imbecile - to come about with such speculation, but he used to think that the hijabs worn by Muslim women made them be able to delve into other people's minds. Basically he had hypothesised that they could perform telepathy. Once he thought they were simply psychics.