The Scent and The Siren

‎♡‧₊˚twenty-seven ‎♡‧₊˚

✧༺♥༻∞

─── ⋅｡ﾟ☆: ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅:☆ﾟ ⋅ ───

𓆩♡𓆪 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𓆩♡𓆪

✧༺♥༻∞

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫,

Imagine if you could have the career of childhood dreams that somehow got sidelined by the pressure of adulting—what would it have been?

Yes, I'm bored on my first official getaway in ages. Usually, I'm always working, even if I'm traveling with my friends, but this time, my best friends have barred me from doing so.

I have eaten TWO goliath-sized cheeseburgers since this morning out of boredom, and it's not even 11 a.m. yet. Please entertain me.

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞-𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞.

Chomping down on the succulent cheeseburger as I anticipate my pen pal's response, I gaze into the ocean while reclining on the luxurious sun-lounger with my legs casually draped on either side. The cool water dances around my feet with each rolling wave. 

My best friends are sunbathing atop the giant pink flamingo inflatable floating on the surface of the azure waters of the Mediterranean, glistening under the radiant morning sun. A few sailboats are anchored at a distance, creating an idyllic backdrop. 

We are in the coveted retreat of my family-owned private island nestled along the stunning coastline of the South of France to mark our attendance at the opening ceremony of the 28-day polo tournament Annual Rothschild Cup, to be held in St. Moritz this evening. Teams from all over the world compete for the prestigious prize. It's the season's biggest and the most high-profile invitation-only event hosted by the generations of my family.

My phone beeps with my brother's message, informing me that he won't be able to make it to the party. He's still stuck in Beijing due to an urgent business trip he had to take two days back. It doesn't surprise me that our mother is more than happy not to mind the absence of her son. It's only my absence from her social events that she has grave issues with, even if I am forced to skip them because of an important work-related matter. I am probably not at the top of her list of priorities, but she expects herself to be on mine.

My mood immediately turns sour as it reminds me of the argument I had with her on the phone call after my return from the office of Mr. Testosterone-On-Legs. It was my utter foolishness to expect her to answer me as to why she did it apart from her usual—I don't owe you an explanation, but I will be vigilant not to hurt your feelings again, my most precious daughter.

Clenching my jaw hard, determined not to let anything ruin my getaway, I grab the latest Emily Henry novel lying on my straw hat and start reading. If only I could be in my Happy Place. 

Argh, that jerk! 

Somehow, my mood curdles once again. It has been almost two days since my rushed departure from his office building. He has made no effort to contact me. 

This time, I don't care. 

I have realized how little I mean to him besides being a woman he wants to fuck.