A Year of Fragile Hearts

Chapter 1 | Wonderful Surprise

"Lemonade." Mystery Guy replies, and I can't help but feel this nagging emotion at the pit of my stomach and the tip of my knuckles to punch him in the face. His deep voice is careless, void of emotion and respect, and I - being the stubborn and quickly annoyed from egoistic and self centered people that I am - wanted to give him a brief piece of my mind. Yet, a sound of shattering glass coming from the kitchen behind me stops me from doing so. Somehow pushing my infuriated feeling aside, my eyes widen as I turn to face Beth, who looks at me with a concern etched in her chocolate brown eyes. "I'll go check it out." I say hurriedly, catching a glimpse of Beth nodding at me, and slip out of the high chair I was sat in.

"What happened here?" I ask, stepping inside the kitchen, the sound of my flat shoes soft against the floor. I come face to face with Ward, who looks up at me with an expression of guilt all over his facial features. I take in his appearance; slightly dark blonde hair brushed to the back of his head, his slim and tall figure wrapped in a white apron, and his green eyes spoke of transgression. "I swear I didn't mean to do that!" he exclaims, putting his hands up in surrender. "It's okay, Ward. It's only a plate." I say with a smile.

It's majorly depressing how affected he is from what he's seen through his life. The war he witnessed which is still going on made a forever lasting bruise in him, making it hard for him to live normally. And being a Syrian muslim guy is not really helping him with living in the USA, where he faces way too much harassment and accusations of being a terrorist, solemnly because he's muslim and Arab. Even such a small act of breaking a glass or a plate sends fear into his bones. I feel chills coursing through me, trying to imagine what he went through but knowing I can never get to truly imagine how deeply scarring it is.

He smiles at me as I inch towards the white scatters of what once was a plate lying on the tiled floor. "I'll go get a broom to sweep this mess away. Don't get too near so you don't get hurt." he says before turning around and hurrying to the little janitor's closet. I start picking up the bigger pieces of glass, careful not to hurt myself. "Ow!" I hiss in pain, as the stomach-churning sight of leaking blood invades the view of my left hand that is the one holding the glass. "Oh my God, Mabelle!" I hear Ward gasp, then he continues to ramble on and on about how unbelievingly clumsy I am and how he literally told me not to get near the broken glass as he lifts me up.

"Ward, relax. It's just a few small cuts. There should be a first aid kit somewhere in one of the cabinets behind the counter. I'll go clean these bruises up and wrap a bandage around them. Just relax." I say, shushing him in the process. "Alright, but call for help if you need any." he says with a smile. "Will do, Roses." I joke, calling him by his nickname. Ward is a word in Arabic which is literally translated to roses in English. "Whatever, Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramirez." He says with an airy laugh. At that I burst out laughing myself.

I step out of the kitchen and head to the counter. Beth sees me walking with a small pool of blood in my hand. "What the hell happened?!" she whisper-shouts. I tell her everything as she helps me wash my hands and deal with the first aid kit. She shakes her head at me in disapproval. Her phone rings just as she finishes with my injured hand. "Hey, Molly!" she greets through the phone. Molly, who is our boss, is a woman in her thirties, working mainly as a teacher at an elementary school, then comes for work here at her shop when it's evening.

Beth hangs up the phone and looks at me. "She wants me to go get something for her. Can you handle the shift on your own?" she asks me as she picks up her purse from under the counter. "Yeah, sure. Say hi to her for me." I say with a reassuring smile. "Okay. Oh, and, that hot guy still didn't get his lemonade. Can you give it to him?" she asks, already making her way out from behind the counter. "No problem." I say, shoeing her away. I turn around as I hear the sound of the bells ringing, indicating Beth is out the door, and work on filling a tall glass with the cold refreshing lemonade Ward made in huge amounts this morning. This drink is the most requested one out of the whole menu and honestly, that's not a surprise; Ward is unbelievingly talented with food and cooking. It's like he has some sort of magic touch to food.