Before Dawn: a Prequel Novella to Where the Stars Fall

9 Restlessness inside ~ Olivia

Why can't it be still, even for a moment? This restlessness inside?

I force my eyes to stop wandering around and lean back, eyelids tightly shut, the sound of people slouching in their seats, whispered voices and gentle violin notes swirling all around me, along with fragments of memories I didn't know were still so vivid in my mind.

The moments he made me laugh my heart out. The comforting hugs. The good morning texts.

'Your smile is my favourite thing.'

'Reminder: you're amazing.'

The feeling of warm hands wrapped around mine, his lips touching my fingertips. His eyes roaming over my body, his gaze touching me...

Enough!

Why would you want to delve into the past now? When you didn't allow yourself to think about him for so many years?

Are you some sort of masochist or something?

I'm beginning to suspect I am...

The goddamn bloody universe must be conspiring against me. For sure. Brian was nowhere to be seen at my uncle's and not finding him here either, at the church, can only mean one thing: for whatever reason, he couldn't make it to the wedding either and now the anticipation I've been denying this past month is morphing into irrepressible frustration. The irrational tug of longing mixed with sadness is so acute it's almost physical pain that I'm feeling.

Ridiculous. After all this time, this is just plain ridiculous...

I brace myself inadvertently as self-conscious embarrassment creeps upon me. It's true. I'm being irrational. Who in their right mind would be thinking about some old boyfriend they haven't seen in ages, fantasising about him for a whole month now?

Here's the answer: someone who needs to be thoroughly therapized, surely.

My phone dings in my hand, announcing another text message from Julie. My mother glances down, sighing, and then looks up at me, traces of contained irritation twitching her face.

"Turning it off now, okay?" I mouth as I put it on silence and toss it back in my clutch.

Apparently, there's a bit of a buzz going on at the hospital this morning because of the operation, with the media giving it full coverage and Julie keeping me posted about the whole fuss. It seems Filipe is not even a little shy about all the recognition he's getting, posing for every photo with the lead surgeon and family, more than happy to answer every question.

But I don't want to know any more about it. Let him be in the spotlight, I truly don't care.

"Menos mal que los ingleses son tan puntuales," good thing the English are so punctual, my mother mumbles, stifling a snort of laughter before she jerks her head towards Jimmy, who's been checking his watch every few minutes and pacing back and forth like a nervous wreck.

Obsessing about timekeeping, getting sunburnt on the first sunny day, and the love for a good queue―here they are, the top traits of Englishness according to Mum, which she uses all the time to ruffle our feathers, the British side of our family's along with mine.

"Pobrecito..." Mum shakes her head. Poor thing indeed, the bride is a half-hour late already.

My eyes search Jimmy's and I give him a reassuring nod, Linda should be arriving any moment.

He reciprocates with a wave of his hand. There's a nervous smile on his face and an anxious expression that only fades a little when he raises his head to the aisle.