Pills of love

Should I laugh or cry (part 2)

Frida had been there for about half an hour and was starting to feel the first signs of impatience and tiredness. It had been a chaotic few days to get there in time for that evening, having to move appointments and commitments just to be there.

She smiled slightly while walking, but she didn't recognize any of the gentlemen who greeted her with a nod and a big smile on their lips, murmuring her name excitedly among themselves.

She was a news there. The news, probably. She and Agnetha together. She hadn't had the chance to meet her yet that evening, she had probably already left. A smart move.

Frida kept walking around, trying to find someone of her group, but gaining only new second glances and persistent stares. She decided to stop at the open bar on one side of the big room, leaning on the counter after ordering another glass of champagne. She looked at her left when a good looking man with chocolate eyes and a seductive smile stared at her from his place at the bar stool, sipping what appeared to be a glass of whiskey. Even though she wasn't looking for anything, she couldn't deny that it was a pleasant knock to her confidence to be eyed by an attractive man, even though most of times she didn't feel attractive at all, no longer having the confidence she had once upon a time. Even If his weren't the pair of eyes she wanted on her. For a while now.

She sighed defeated at that thought and turned back to the bartended, who served her a flute with a smile.

Frida took a sip of her fresh drink and turned towards the room, fidgeting with her glass, basking in the cold sensation in her hands, having nothing better to distract herself. She had entrusted her purse to Charlotte and now she regretted it bitterly. She regretted her entire outfit that evening.

Suddenly, she wished she had chosen the black cocktail dress she had left home. She wished she had her long dark hair covering her shoulders, bringing out her armor. An extra help in her stupid decision to show up there that night.

Charlotte had teased her as soon as she asked her to accompany her to that evening, repeating endlessly that she finally had the opportunity to see again "Her obsession" and make it up with him.

"Especially If it involves kisses and hot sex in the bathroom".

She loved Charlotte, really, but she had the delicacy of an elephant in a glassware shop.

Frida wasn't even sure If she wanted to speak to him that night, If she had even the chance to do it.

Not to mention that he'd probably always be held hostage by friends and journalists... And his family had to be around somewhere...

She was aware of him and his life. She tried to avoid talking about him with her friends, she really avoided even to say his name out loud. But in reality she knew about him and his life via press and his works. She knew about his new collaborations, his new songs for other singers and bands, his theater passion, his trips around the world.

She knew that his marriage was okay and that alone made her stomach churn and it was enough to silence any hope that she had secretly harbored since the first day of their break up for the two of them ever reuniting as more than coworkers.

Frida took a long sip of her glass and left it on an empty table near a stack of brochures about the opera. She took one and brushed her fingers over the shiny cover, a little smile over the pictures of Benny and Björn. They had grown up so much, they were imposing internationally as composers and musicians and she couldn't be more proud of them.

Frida opened the brochure and her eyes fell on a little picture of them all during their golden years. She was pathetic and sad and she reminded herself that she had no place in his life, in his job, anywhere about him... But her heart always beat a little more when she saw them both happy and smiling together again. In love.