Gold Rush ✓

01 | gleam

I M P O R T A N T

Well hello my loves,

If you haven't realize, usually I've always put foreword a week before the first chapter will be reveal.

But just for today, since it's valentine day I thought I would like to give something more, more special, so here we go. A free pass for the first chapter.

Hope you like it.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone.

x Yori

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0 1

g l e a m

noun : a faint or brief light, especially one reflected from something; or in this case someone.

I DON'T KNOW how to react when I watch from the distance with my own eyes, the one I thought will be the love of my life hugging and kissing the forehead of another girl. Not just any other girl, I knew exactly who she was.

She was the girl who has been known as his girlfriend since we were twenty and somewhere deep down, really, really deep down in my heart, I had seen this coming.

All these years, maybe I was just in denial and thinking the idea of soulmate was real and beautiful and full of anticipation. I really thought he would be the one for me, I felt it since we were nineteen and I thought that he knows what my intention, my beliefs in soulmate, that he is the one for me, that I cannot commit to anything at that age. I really, really thought he knew that and held on to it the way I am.

On my hand, slipping out a bouquet of flowers as I turned around and walking away while scratching the whole plan she made since I was nineteen for the next ten years of my life.

Persuaded degrees both in bachelor and master until twenty-four, inherent an accountant public at twenty-five and become a successful, stable, businesswoman in my twenty-eight years and at twenty-nine years old, I will be finally facing him, the one I thought will be the one for me after his enlistment.

But I just left with a broken heart and nothing else.

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That night, I was realising that I just lost with reality.

And to celebrate my realisation, I walked into the bar that everyone is attempting to appear proper in their high-end suits and attire. It is sophisticated, a sort of minimalist-classical place and most importantly, people talk in their low and calm voice. It is a perfect place for someone who wants to drink her sorrow away.

Once I decided to sit right in the middle of a long counter bar and a bartender already all ears for my order, without blinking I ordered the perfect drink that can describe my feeling right now.

"The Manhattan, please."

As if the bartender knew exactly what kind of order I wanted, he quickly stirred over ice and strained into a chilled glass, garnished, and served straight up without ice in front of the brunette with a cocktail glass.

I exchanged a quick thanks to the bartender and he left her alone as I sipped the slight bitterness and some herbal undertones from the bitters and pick-up underlying sweetness from the sweet vermouth and whiskey.