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Isabelle giggles to herself. She presses her hand against her heart, a mellow calm settling in her bones. She holds a silk handkerchief, caught up in little daydreams. The sound of soft piano music and the smell of brewed coffee fills the air.
The memory of what she saw last night forms a knot in her stomach, putting an end to the cloud nine.
Surely, there is an explanation.
Her dear friend isn't a bad person. Reckless and arrogant, yes, but not dangerous. Tristan's past actions oppose that, especially in their teenage years.
The image of two young boys climbing over a chain fence, beckoning for her to follow. As a teenager under constant supervision, their kind of freedom and recklessness helped her find herself. Even if that did mean trouble, left and right. Alright, fine, she admits it was dangerous.
Okay, not the illegal get-yourself-killed kind of dangerous.
Isabelle squints her eyes shut. What can she do?
Aaron wouldn't tell her what happened, he just got up and left without a word. Charlotte explained he had a personal emergency, clearly one he didn't want to talk about.
She simply can't waltz in and demand to know, that's rude and crossing boundaries. They aren't that well aquainted for her to be so careless. The relationship they have is similar to a babysitter and a naughty child. He isn't even that much older.
On any other day, she'd wear her typical suit and heels. Today feels like a day for nice attire. An elegant yellow dress with white sandals. Isabelle has grown tired of the usual white blouses and pink accessories.
A little change every now and then keeps things interesting.
Isabelle watches the birds outside while leaning on the window frame. The canary outside reminds her of someone, similar to the said bird. Unable to stay in one place for too long, always making some noise.
Does the height count? He wears shoes with a thick sole on purpose.
Tristan never opened up about what he does for a living. He's been like that ever since she met him, but she respects it. Jake did say to never, ever ask how much someone makes and what their job is. Considering their parents' status, that'd be rude to some people.
It'd come across as obnoxious and privileged if she did that.
At this hour, Jake would be in his apartment reading a book. He probably is, but halfway across the world. She would visit often enough and prepare something, because he thinks microwaving instant packs is enough.
Isabelle hadn't set a foot inside his apartment since the day he went missing. He is declared dead, but she knows better. Her parents arranged a funeral immediately, which she didn't bother with. It was as if they didn't want him to come back. Unacceptable.
It just seemed stupid to cry over an empty coffin.
She picks up a call.
"Stephen?"
Isabelle stirs her coffee. He called. Oh goodness, he did. That could only mean he's near. Would he wear a suit today or a soft hoodie and jeans?
Stephen could wear a trash bag and she'd compliment him, heck, he could wear a yellow, polka dot tie with a cream colored suit and she'd gladly accompany him. Sometimes, she forgets how old he actually is. He didn't look past thirty at all.
Was it because of good skincare?
"I apologize. Could we reschedule? I have urgent business to attend to." He asked. She could hear the radio on his end and some voices.
Her heart sinks.
"Oh. That's alright."
Isabelle looks down. She set her phone down. It wasn't alright, really, but he sounded desperate. She'll just walk around to lighten up her mood. Just having greasy street food didn't cut it today.
On the bright side, he had let her known ahead of time.
Nothing a slow, relaxing walk can't resolve. The smell of the early morning dew and sound of leaves rustling against the wind never ceases to amaze her. Looking up to the sky, she does a twirl, off in her own world. With each step she'd take a new color would appear, starting a new journey into the sunset.
A little boy walks by, carrying a sack full of fruits. He runs as fast as his little legs could go, following after his parent. Seeing this, the father takes the sack away and lifts his little boy onto his shoulders.
Honestly, she's a little jealous. A sweet, genuine love shared between family. It's obvious with the way they smile at one another.
What's it like?
As she walks into the park, she passes by different groups of people. A happy couple, holding hands as they look away from one another. What stood out most to her was what seemed to be a family of three, with the parents looking to be around her age. The child used their parents' hands as swings, having the time of their life.
Isabelle's heart throbs.
She reclines at the playground with barely any kids in sight. The sun started to set, a signal of what Isabelle liked to call the golden hour. Perfect for sun kissed pictures and photography.
There's a figure of pink, huddled in the corner in the sandbox.
She approaches a little girl who is crying her heart out. She steps inside and crouches next to her. There is a broken sandcastle with a huge footprint in the middle. Did she get picked on?
Isabelle grabs the bucket of water and tries making another one, getting her hands all dirty. It more like wet clay, but it wasn't bad for her first attempt. She sticks a dry leaf in the middle and smiles at her creation. A lovely castle.
"That's... so ugly."
Ouch. Isabelle pouts and pats her sandcastle. No, no it isn't. It's cute.
The little girl hiccups and wipes her nose. Her face is bright pink and her eyes are puffy. For a child, she's adorable. Silky, shiny hair and a pair of wide eyes.
"Really? Could you teach me?"
The sand in her feet aren't as annoying as she thought it'd be. The little girl puts just enough water inside the pail and sticks it to the sand.
The little girl yawns and lies on her back. She rubs her hands on her skirt.
She looks back at her little sandcastle from earlier and shrugs. The leaf gives it character.
"I'm Isabelle. What's your name?"
She seems like a sweet, happy kid.
Why would she get picked on?
"...Lia." The little girl said in a soft manner. She sounds as if she is trying to eat her words. Lia has dark, curly hair in little pigtails and green eyes.
"Well, Lia, can I lie down next to you?" Isabelle smiles.
"Uh huh."
Lia looks at the sky. She pat the area of sand next to her. The two watch the clouds pass them by. One side of the sky is orange while the other is a pale blue. When she was younger, she thought little people lived in clouds and the changing of color meant a battle.
Does Lia think the same?
"... Can we be friends?" She said. Isabelle turns her head and nods.
"Of course! I'm so happy. I learned how to make a sand castle today."
Lia giggles and stretches her arms. They point at the clouds, guessing what each one is.
Is this what Jake felt, looking after her when they were kids?
She wipes her eyes. Everything would work out, eventually. She'll keep her fingers crossed until they meet again.
"I want ice cream." Lia sit up and points at the food truck. She dusts herself and Lia off, carefully wiping her face with a soft tissue.
Isabelle sits beside Lia on the swings. It starts getting cold, which she is not a fan of.
Lia seemed to be off in her own utopia, enjoying her chocolate scoop. She ate the last bit rather messily, the ice cream spread all over her mouth and chin. Ah, kids.
Isabelle cleans her face again. Lia laughs and places her little hands on Isabelle's arm. It leaves little chocolate fingerprints on her skin.
"I wanted to see Papa." Lia stood in front of Isabelle, holding onto her skirt. She thought of how to find her parents, not knowing where the nearest police station is.
If Isabelle took her home, would she be.. kidnapping?
She couldn't leave a little girl all alone, it's starting to get late. Going to the police and leaving her there does seem like a good option, but can they be trusted?
"But I made a new friend!" Lia smiles. Isabelle's heart turns into syrup and pools out her ears. Little Lia is so sweet, it's enough to make her melt.
Is she six? Seven years old? She didn't carry any bag, nor was she wearing a uniform. Just great. Isabelle is at a loss.
She could be labelled a kidnapper!
Hopefully, the parents wouldn't chew her out once they met. If they met. They could be paranoid and shoot her before she can explain. Isabelle swallows, glancing around.
"Amelia!" A man calls out. Isabelle nearly jumps out of the swing. She's done for!
It's been a spoiled, pampered life.
"Papa!" Lia ran towards the voice. A tall, lean figure in a crisp suit. He swings Lia in his hands and holds her close. Fingers crossed that they're nice.
Lia points at her and her heartbeat is stuck in her throat.
"Stephen?"
She is dumbfounded. Has she been going out with a married man? Goodness, she ought to be ashamed of herself! She is about to leave but Amelia tugs on her bag.
"Iza." Amelia sniffles. If she started crying now, she wouldn't know what to do.
"Please, allow me to explain."
"I really should get going--"
Isabelle's stomach made a loud noise. Amelia laughs and he scoops her up in his arms. She could dig a hole and stay there forever.
Oh, goodness.
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She understood Amelia ran off to see her father, but ended up meeting Isabelle instead. Stephen is grateful it was her and not someone else.
What happened? Why is he raising a child alone?
Isabelle could only imagine. She sees no jewelry on him, unless a watch counts. No ring, no tattoo. Not even a google search shows anything. Maybe she's looking in the wrong areas. Chloe would know!
"I am not married." Stephen explains. They end up eating dinner together, thanks to Amelia.
Yeah, right. That's what they all say. If she'd take the risk to believe him, his legal wife would suddenly appear and she'd be in jail.
Or what if it's like those stories where the wife would take drastic measures? Isabelle might fall asleep later and wake up on a yacht, tied up and left with nothing but a note. She crosses her legs, forcing a smile.
Stupid thoughts lead to nowhere.
The little girl skips around, playing with her teddy bear. Stephen chose a private room, which made Isabelle more nervous than she'd have liked.
It kind of felt like they were a little family.
Did Stephen adopt Amelia, then? They look nothing alike. Maybe she took after her mother more. But that didn't make sense! But Stephen being active isn't unbelievable.
Not with that face and charming voice, no, she'd be surprised if he wasn't.
Stephen smiles. As if he could tell what she was thinking, he pulls out his phone and shows her a gallery. Pictures of his parents, some of Tristan and Amelia's moments at school.
"Her mother did not wish to have a family. After giving birth, she left." Stephen answered. He looked down. Oh.
What could she say? Sorry? That it's bad? She barely knew him to say such things. So, she said nothing, but takes his hand and gives it a light squeeze. He didn't explain any further.
Amelia runs up to Isabelle and pats her leg.
"Up!"
Amelia touches her hair and plants her face onto Isabelle's leg. She understood and places the little girl on her lap.
"Are you looking for a wife?"
Stephen coughs and pats his mouth. Isabelle slowly braids his daughters thin, silky hair. Her hair is manageable, for someone that keeps running around. Amelia dashes off again, nearly running into the staff. With a sheepish smile, she apologizes.
"It's not for love. I just need a husband to claim my parents company."
Oh you know, missing brother, parent's don't believe she can handle it because she's a woman. The usual. Isabelle makes a mental checklist of what she needs in order to face her family head on. Firstly, a powerful ally. She's open to a mutually beneficial relationship, business wise.
"May I know why?"
"No, you may not. You don't have a reason to be concerned." Isabelle smiles, leaning forward. He nods in understanding and silence fills the room.
Okay, fine, being mysterious just isn't her style.
"Alright, fine I'll tell you." She grins, eager to spill the details.
"Oh?" He said.
"But only if you agree." Isabelle said.
"I'll consider it. Wait for my response." He rubs his watch in between his fingers.
"Uncle!" She leaps past the door, followed by laughter and cheers.
Its just the two of them in the room now. Oh, my. Stephen chuckles, his ears turning pink. Isabelle adjusts his collar, closing the space in between them. She's on the tip of her toes, barely being able to reach it. Her hands brush against his neck.
"You look nice today."
Stephen leans in, their noses touching. He doesn't break eye contact. One wrong move and they might accidentally kiss.
Is it an accident if she'd like that, though?
"Are you tempting me?"
"Try not to love me when I disappear, Stephen."
The door bursts open and she jumps. Isabelle loses her balance and a pair of strong arms wraps around her waist, holding her. If he stared any longer she'd melt!
"Stephen, get off my bestfriend!"
"Pardon, cousin?"
"Be nicer to my fiancé." She said.
"Papa, your face is pink. Can I turn pink?" Amelia said.
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