Like every girl who had dreamt of her man, she probably had her spec too - child of God at heart, Holy Spirit filled, accurate teacher of the word, a man who can be a covering for her and their children, maybe handsome and handles the kitchen knife with skill.
With each day passing, her waiting clock ticked and she fantasized the day they would meet; the day he would befriend her; the day she would have to pray about them, out of curiousity; the day he would propose to her; the day she would tell her uncle about him, with her brightest smile and red cheeks. Each scene, a continuous replay in her mind, like a broken record. But, she made a choice to wait, patiently and actively for him till her dream could be felt and held.
But Destiny had a different plan up His sleeves, and she had to make a choice.
The town crier echoed words from the palace, "The royal head is in need of a bride." Daughters of a land, not hers, in their prime, smiles brighter than the morning sun, bodies as pure as a white linen, all filed to the king's palace, among who she was numbered.
With each step towards the palace, she allowed herself to drown in the image of her spec - his broad face, thick eyebrows, long thin eyelashes, sharp and masculine lips curved into a smile, and his well-trimmed beard. Each step towards the palace is a step from her spec. Each step from her spec is a step to her learning to love a pagan king.
#Esther1,2
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