[ASTRID REESE]
London, England
★ ★ ★
Astrid knew as much as she needed to know. His name. His job title. His relation to Astrid's ex. All the important things.
Sort of.
She only really needed his name and the rest was up to the future. More specifically, for her to figure out as the two would proceed to get to know each other. The reason behind her lack of stalking—although it felt quite thorough when she came up with this insane idea—was due to the need she felt to make this plan as genuine as it could be. Yes, she had an ultimate outcome of this, a goal of sorts that she was working towards, but everything in between... she wanted all of that to be somewhat real. Over the past few weeks, she realised she hadn't thought of what would happen after she faces her ex, and so, the idea of her staying with the surgeon began to cycle in her mind.
Would it work? Could it work? The entire relationship, on her part anyway, started as nothing more than revenge. A lie. Her feelings had been compromised by this idea of hurting her ex back by showing up with someone else. And when this thought process invaded her mind, it led her to question whether she tried to prove that she was better off without him, or that she was as completely rotten on the inside as she imagined he thought of her whilst making the decision to cheat.
Either outcome meant she did not deserve Harry Styles, therefore even if the relationship could work, it would not. Her subconscious wouldn't allow any peace for her to enjoy being with a man like that.
Still, she already happened to be knee deep in the water, with the tides beginning to form. Astrid Reese couldn't swim to save her life, but she could float. And as long as she remained afloat, she was safe and alive.
"'...amongst these names, Mr Harry Styles stands out the most. The world class neurosurgeon—who has earned himself the title ten times over—is set to be leading a project which explores the topic of brain transplants.' Holy shit," Sofia mumbled in between sentences, reacting to what the article said that she decided to read out loud. The screen of her phone lit up her face as she hunched over the device. "'Although it is fairly early to say whether the surgeon will succeed or take a step back for the purpose of further studying the subject, it is to be noted that his outstanding track record only leaves us with high hopes.' So basically, he is a genius and you are screwing him. Wow."
"I'm not screwing him," Astrid sighed as she threw the chopped-up onion, garlic, yellow and orange bell peppers, spring onion, and chilli into the pan, already covered with sunflower oil.
"Are you catching feelings for him already?"
"Not... no."
"Not no?" Sofia laughed, finding the answer ridiculous and it was. Astrid knew it was. But she had no idea what else she was doing. Sofia's phone landed on the marble kitchen counter as she rid herself of the device and focused on Astrid. "Doesn't matter—this man... he is a living legend. You get that, right?"
Astrid sighed again, like she was fed up of the conversation because her best friend ruined the plan of finding information like this out from Harry himself. Then again, she couldn't really blame Sofia. Not when her intentions were good. They were always good when it came to Astrid, that's how she put the pieces together this time, as she was forced to listen to the fifth article about Harry Styles' achievements.
"Maybe. He probably could be, just for the way he looks," Reese commented while simultaneously paying attention to the sizzling vegetables on the hob and the chips and chicken cooking away in the oven. The two parts of the meal were bound to be done around the same time, at least, Astrid hoped for that outcome. "Anyway. Since he doesn't like it when I bring up his work, I tend to shy away from even thinking of it myself."
"Did he ever say that?"
"What?"
"That he doesn't like it when you mention it."
"No, but he gave me th—,"
"You're probably overthinking it," Sofia brushed it off because she could. Because she didn't sit face to face with him like Astrid did. Because she couldn't feel the negativity just radiating off of him like a scorching hot radiator pumping a room full with warmth at a rapid speed.
"Yep. Probably," she repeated just for the sake of it. Also to hopefully push the conversation in another direction—any, for all she cared. A rough week bled into an even rougher weekend, and Astrid didn't know how she would make it through the next week once it rolled around. Knowing that she would have to face Jennifer bright and early to help picking between wedding dresses made her wonder why she ever chose to include it in her full wedding plan package.
Then came the regret for thinking so negatively about her job and she forced herself to find the positives. She included it in her full package because there is the odd chance that the bride doesn't have anyone to help them with those kinds of things, and Astrid knew if she didn't have anyone there, she would go insane. Not to mention, it would feel lonely and absolutely boring. It is always better to have someone for things like this, considering they mostly only happen once in a lifetime. So, as grumpy as she felt, standing in the kitchen while making salt and pepper chicken and chips for dinner, she knew that as soon as the sun would come up in the morning, she'd be ready and on her A game to make Jennifer's wedding preparations even more enjoyable.
Because that's the kind of person Astrid was. Always looking to help. Always giving herself to people so they can walk all over her like a goddamned door mat—hell, she even let them retrack so they could wipe their dirty shoes before moving on. But that was okay. She couldn't help it. Not all the time, anyway.
"Ugh!" she groaned as her head started getting the better of her, pulling her down into the depths of the ocean made of stress and overthinking.
"What?!" Sofia shrieked and even jumped a little as she sat on the chair.
"Am I a bad person?" Astrid asked as she turned around to face her.
"Is that a trick question?"
"Like... do I deserve shit things happening to me?" she rephrased and then asked again. "Am I a bad person?"
"What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything," she rolled her eyes. "But I did get cheated on—which is ridiculous to say out loud because that was never something I thought I'd ever have to experience or worry about."
"Well... I don't think anyone deserves to be cheated on. I mean... yeah, you can be a right pain in the ass but that surely wasn't what made your ex do what he did."
"So, what, then?" she pushed further while facing the food again. Astrid pulled the oven gloves on and took out the trays with the chips and chicken on it. Once it was placed to the side, she turned off the oven, then poured the crispy food into the pan, filled with the vegetables, ready to mix.
"I don't know, Astrid," she shrugged. Astrid sighed, defeated. Sofia's answer was the worst answer she could've gotten. "Hey."
"Hm?" she reacted without turning back or even paying proper attention to Sofia.
"Talk to me."
"The food's done if you wanna get—,"
"No. Talk to me about what's going on. It's not for me—it's for you. And partially for me," she scoffed. Perhaps Sofia spoke the truth. Other than the initial weeping, she didn't exactly go into details about what happened but kept it to herself. "You're driving me up the wall with that sad puppy face."
"I don't have a sad puppy face!"
"You do," Sofia assured her as she opened and closed the fridge two times. Almost like she hoped something would magically appear inside of it. She groaned as she revealed, "We're all out of wine. This is the worst day ever."
"I need to get soy milk, anyway, so I'll nip out for that, too," Astrid announced, feeling it to be the perfect opportunity to get out of the house. She didn't feel particularly hungry so she didn't mind.
"Astrid..."
"What?"
"I don't want to drive you away."
"Well," she started, almost laughing at the choice of words and what she was going to do in about five minutes to go to the store. After a couple of seconds of silence, she added, "You're not."
"Are you sure?" Sofia chuckled. Then she cut it out when Astrid gave her a dirty look, one where she was sure to show how over this she was already. "Okay. Go to the shop. I'll eat all alone with—,"
"Can I come to the shop, please?"
"There she is!" Astrid gasped, throwing her hands out in the open as a tiny human made her way into the kitchen. Dressed in leggings and a jumper, fluffy socks, and perfectly braided hair, she appeared as the perfect replica of Sofia. As she rushed right between Astrid's arms, she came with such force that the woman nearly fell backwards. It made the both of them laugh then look at Sofia.
"Fine," Sofia gave in, sighing like it was something she didn't want to allow, but Astrid knew that wasn't the case. Sofia would've done anything for her daughter, so if she wanted to go to the shop with Astrid, then there was no room for discussion. "But you better be back before your dad gets here."
★ ★ ★
"Ayla, you're too big for the seat," Astrid told her niece off. Well, she was the closest thing to one, considering her siblings were childless still. She supposed it ran in the family to be so career oriented. "Buuut you can sit in the trolley?"
"Yes!" she boxed into the air as Astrid winked at her. Next thing Ayla knew, Astrid stood behind her, hands beneath her armpits to lift the little girl into the trolley. "It's cold."
"We'll grab a cardboard box from one of the cages. Until then, suck it up," came the reply from Astrid, only to hear a sigh from Ayla. She squatted down and held herself up on her feet. "So, your mother's birthday is coming up," Reese commented as she pushed the trolley through the main sliding doors, then the ones that led through to the supermarket.
"Can we throw a party?" Ayla wondered excitedly. It sounded like a plan, and Astrid would've loved to sink her teeth into a surprise party, but she knew Sofia like the back of her hand. When that woman is buried beneath paperwork, she wants nothing but to get through it. The thought of a birthday party—or any kind of party—is most likely the last thing on her mind. She would absolutely hate it. Plus, Sofia rarely ever celebrated her own. She preferred to put the effort in for other people's birthdays—like Astrid's and Ayla's.
"I was thinking we could buy her lots of her favourite candles and make a pizza cake?"
Turning around with incredible swiftness, the biggest scowl homed on Ayla's face, head tilted, as she asked: "Now, what the heck is a pizza cake?"
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Astrid's eyebrows rose in question. Ayla turned back around to face the front, staying quiet. "Thought so."
"Well... what is it?"
"Just a bunch of pizzas stacked on top of one another," Astrid said. "Why? Did you think we'd fill the cake with pizza filling?"
"Oh... well, that came to mind, yes," her niece laughed, and it even made Reese crack a smile. "Astrid?"
"Hm?" she hummed, looking around the shop. For it to be only eight in the evening, it appeared dead, with little to no customers hanging around. She needed soy milk and wine. All in the back of the shop, on the left. "Milk first, then wine. Plan?"
"Yeah—but Astrid?"
"Listening—oh. This looks like it could be delicious," she spoke more to herself as she investigated the box in her hand, speedily pulled from one of the shelves. There was a satisfied smile on her face as she popped it in the trolley, just beside Ayla.
"Astrid!" Ayla raised her voice and turned back, almost standing to her feet as she balanced on her knees. Reese came to a halt stop, her feet rooting into the floor in the middle of the shop. Her eyes widened and focused entirely on the ten-year-old, screaming at her like she had done something wrong.
"Yes, Ayla?"
"Can I run to the toilet?" she wondered, leaning on one of the metal sides. The impatience suddenly made sense. Begging eyes bored into Astrid's but they couldn't get rid of the idea of the little girl going away on her own.
"The toilets are all the way at the entrance."
"Please," she pouted. "Mummy always lets me go."
"You're under my supervision. If anything happens to you—,"
"Nothing will! Promise."
"—that'll be on me. You get that, right?"
"Auntie, please," she pulled the A card, the one that melted Astrid's heart as though she was an ice cube on a scorching hot day, left out to become nothing but a little puddle.
"Okay," she gave in while her body gradually filled with anxiety. At the cost of Astrid's peace, she has read one too many articles about children being left alone to wander around shops then never being found. Nothing ever happened at the shop they were currently looking around, but a person cannot know until it happens, right?
Still, she lifted Ayla out of the trolley. Making sure the little girl knew which aisle to come back to, Astrid watched her until she made her way down the middle of the shop, only to turn right at the end and disappear.
Reese shook her head in hopes of the negative thoughts backing off. When that didn't seem to happen, she moved to look at the shelves since she agreed to wait for Ayla in the baking section. Realisation hit her then that she hasn't baked anything in what felt like months—due to her busy schedule but also probably because there was never anything in the house for it—and so she began to fill the trolley with things that she thought to be basics.
"I'm back!" Ayla jumped out from behind the shelf, scaring Astrid to death. Finding herself rather engulfed in which vanilla extract to purchase, she forgot for a moment that she did not come here alone.
"Ah—yay!" she smiled at her best friend's daughter, then sighed and picked up all three bottles of vanilla extract. Only tasting it will tell which one is the best, she imagined. "So, I was thinking banana pancakes for breakfast tomorrow but I realised your dad's picking you up for the week."
"You always make banana pancakes for breakfast, Astrid," came the response from the little girl, only to leave Astrid snorting in response.
"It's not like you ever say no, is it?" she teased her.
"I love your banana pancakes!"
"Yes, well, I will be eating them alone tomorrow morning," Astrid sighed.
"Facetime me! Daddy makes me eggs all the time—and beans. Mmm. I love when he makes me eggs!" she began to tell the story, stealing a few laughs from Astrid.
Ayla was one of the lucky kids. Although her parents were never together, they chose to raise her together. The man was as busy as business people in London come. Filthy rich. Disgustingly handsome. And yet, he made the effort to raise his child, look after her, take her to school, and actually have a relationship with her, other than just throwing money in her face. Not that he deserved praise for the bare minimum. With that being said, Astrid knew that anyone else would've bolted the second they found out they were going to have a child, and he did not.
Astrid prayed he would make the move to get together with Sofia. The two had a fine relationship. They talked, and it was civil. They had Ayla's best interest at heart. The only thing they lacked was the time to get to know each other. Astrid had long been Sofia's best friend when Ayla was conceived. She was a little surprise from a one-night stand, and the only reason the man was aware of his first kid coming into the world, was because he happened to be at the very same hospital, on the very same day she was born. Up until then, he had no idea, and Sofia did not plan on ever finding him. It would've been impossible. So, fate stepped in at the perfect moment.
"Astrid, can we try coconut milk?"
"Yeah, sure," she nodded while walking further down the aisle to grab one of the soy milk cartons. Once that was done, she waited for Ayla to put the coconut milk in there, too, then they headed towards the alcohol section. "Do you need anything for school?"
"Hmmm... can I get snacks?" she asked, eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree at night. Astrid laughed as Ayla stood in one place, neck pushed out, hands locked behind her back. She looked insane, and quite scary, so Astrid put her hand on her face and pushed the little girl back. "Please," Ayla grabbed onto her hand, clutching it in both of her very own, tiny ones.
"What do you want?"
"String cheese. And chocolate covered rice cakes, mmm!"
"Alright," Reese gave in. "I just need to get some wine for your mother, then we can grab your snacks."
"Okay, thank you!"
"Mmm-hm," she reacted, placing her left arm around Ayla as she leaned into her. Picking between red wines had to be the hardest task on planet earth. Sofia's favourite was usually anything-Australian and New Zealand but no other specifics. Ayla was busy twisting the rings around Astrid's fingers while still leaning into her and Astrid asked, "Should we do the kangaroo ones or the soldier one?"
"Well, mummy drank that one yesterday," she pointed. "Yellow Tail Shit."
"Ayla Josephine Edwards!"
"What?" she laughed a proper belly laugh as Astrid gasped, then gradually chuckled away with her.
"That says Shiraz, not Shit. Bloody fuck—where do you learn these things?"
"Did you really just ask me that?"
That's when Reese realised what had left her mouth. Completely unaware of it for a couple of seconds. Ayla gave her a knowing look, arms crossed on her chest, hip pushed out to one side as she weighed down onto one leg. Giving Astrid all the attitude she could.
"Okay. Pretend I never said that," Astrid mumbled. Then took a step forward and pulled the bottle from the shelf. "Shall we get 19 Crimes, too?"
"Why is it called 19 Crimes? Should've been twenty to make it round."
"Good question—,"
"Many, many years ago, those who committed one of the nineteen crimes were sentenced to live in Australia, rather than given a death sentence," Astrid heard the words interrupt her and Ayla's conversation. Goose bumps pricked her skin as she turned around, forcing her jaw to stay in place. "Technically, though, that in itself could be considered a death sentence, since not many of them made it across the sea," continued on the man who should not have been there.
The man who went by the name of Harry Styles.
The man who wasn't only smart when it came to medicine, but clearly knew much about history, too.
Between his very informational explanation, he proceeded to pick up one of the bottles, twirling it around like it happened to be a rather expensive diamond. "Nevertheless," he sighed. "Those who did, built the country as we know it, and the wine celebrates the rules they broke and the culture they created."
Through all of that, of course, Astrid stared at him. Watched like a hawk, out for its prey. Hell, even her head was tilted to the side, ever so gently, and she was sure that from a different point of view it made her seem like she was glancing at him lovingly.
The truth was, all she could think about was how sexy he looked. Light stubble dirtied his cheeks, jaw, chin, and upper lip, softly crawling down onto his throat as though it was ivy wrapped around the base of a tree. Astrid imagined her pupils dilated the same way she watched them grow in the bathroom mirror one night, out of pure curiosity to figure what she must've looked like whenever Harry Styles appeared in her line of vision. Standing there, with her eyes falling lower—now on his exposed chest with a silver necklace between his pecks, ruffling through the hair she felt on the palm of her hand before—and lower, until she processed that he looked infuriatingly handsome.
Dressed in a black suit with a powder blue, softly designed button down where he left the top few holes undone. A large, shiny, and most certainly very expensive watch peeked from beneath his sleeve as he held the bottle of wine, and his polished black Oxfords screeched against the dirty yet still shiny tiles of the shop floor as he took a step back from the shelf.
That look, compared to Astrid's matching grey lounge set that she was certain they advertised to be worn to bed, was laughable, really. He looked decked out and she looked like she couldn't care less about life.
"So, they did bad things but people are celebrating them for it?"
"I suppose it's more of a marketing strategy, than anything else," Harry shrugged as he continued to talk to Ayla. She appeared to be rather taken by the conversation, or maybe even Harry's openness to answer her question. "There's some truth to it, but, at the end of the day, it's a gimmick used to sell wine. And it works, doesn't it?"
"Does it?" Ayla questioned. It made Harry laugh. And Astrid? She stood by and watched the interaction. She didn't even realise she stayed quiet, she felt so taken by what was happening.
"You tell me, Little Miss," Harry smiled, almost like he challenged the little girl. Not to mention, he gave her a nickname right away, and Ayla happened to be a sucker for it. Astrid knew that, without even having to see her face, and she smiled, shaking her head. No one would hear the end of it, surely. "Does the spooky background story make you want to buy a bottle or leave it on the shelf?"
"I'm ten."
Harry chuckled while his eyes quickly shifted to Astrid, then back to Ayla, and responded, "I'm sorry?"
"I can't drink alcohol yet. Mummy wouldn't allow it," Ayla shrugged. "I would leave it on the shelf."
That's when Harry hummed, and whilst he said, "Well, your mummy," he looked at Astrid. Then finished his sentence by saying, "Is very smart for that. Ten-year-olds shouldn't be drinking that bad stuff, ever." Only to be rewarded with a round of chuckles as the two ladies turned to face each other.
That most certainly wasn't the first time someone had mistaken Astrid for Ayla's mother. The two looked nothing alike, but people being people, they assumed she was the parent. Over the years—or as Ayla got older and understood the situation better—, the two felt it becoming their little inside joke.
"What?" he asked them, confused and out of place because they continued to chuckle amongst themselves. "What?" he laughed a little, too. "Did I say some—you're not her mother. Are you?"
"Hm?" Astrid cocked her chin upwards, then pulled Ayla to stand before her so she could cover her mouth and stop the girl laughing.
"Sorry, what's your name?" Harry asked Ayla. Then she spoke against Astrid's hand and purposefully licked her palm so she would let go.
"That's so disgusting," Reese mumbled and wiped her hand on her thigh.
"My name is Ayla Edwards. I'm almost ten. I'm in Year 5. I love maths and science. I want a horse when I'm old enough aaand Astrid promised to buy me string cheese after we get mummy some wine!" Ayla replied to Harry in great detail alongside an award-winning smile. The fact that she decided to mention she was almost ten made Astrid chuckle, and roll her eyes playfully.
"Oh... oh, right," Harry chuckled as all the new information must've registered in his brain. "Well, I'm Har—,"
"Harry," Ayla interrupted and it seemed to surprise him. "You're old. You're a doctor so you must've loved science, right? And you probably don't have time for horses. But do you like string cheese?"
"I—uh, I suppose I do like string cheese," he laughed. He stole a glance from Astrid, his lips twitching into what Reese supposed to be an amused smile, then he said, "And... well, that all sounds to be very true. You seem to know me well, Ayla Edwards."
"Yeah," she chuckled.
"Okay, I think that's enough," Astrid decided to step in finally, attracting both of their attention. Her voice was light and playful, a constant smile on her lips as she couldn't help it.
In turn, Harry cleared his throat and lifted his hand to itch his nose. Astrid noticed that before. It was kind of like a habit of his, she thought. Not that she had much time to ponder over it because the surgeon chose to speak. "So, Ayla... she's not yours."
"No. She is not," with a tight smile and somewhat reassuring nod, Astrid responded. She would've loved to make him believe otherwise, but she was tired and hungry with a drive ahead of her to get back home. When the silence overwhelmed the empty aisle, Reese spoke up. "Well, thanks for the little history lesson about the nineteen crimes and all. Very informative."
"Mhm-hm," Styles countered, looking slightly lost.
"We're gonna have to go now, though. This one's," she squeezed Ayla's shoulders. "Needed back home so..." Astrid said.
"Nipping to the shop for wine is crucial, isn't it?" he teased and she rolled her eyes. "Alright, well, let me not keep you for longer, then. It was great to meet you, Ayla Edwards," Harry put one hand out, offering a handshake.
"Nice to meet you, too, Harry Styles," she took his hand and they shook on it. At the sound of his full name being spoken after not having mentioned it, he sneakily stole another glance from Astrid, who could only shrug to confirm what he must've been thinking. Hell, he even smirked, so she knew he was chuffed about the little girl being so aware of who he was. To him, that probably meant good things, and it most certainly boosted his ego.
"Ayla—the rice cakes are just a couple of aisles over. Wanna go grab your favourite?" and she was gone. Without an answer. Like a lightning on a stormy night. Astrid, with the intent of wiping that smirk off of his face, said, "So... you know your wine history, do you?"
"And you are a part time babysitter."
"Ha. Ha," Astrid faked a laugh while pulling her arms onto her chest, legs apart in a shape of an A. "Didn't think you were one for the reds."
"Can't go wrong with 19 Crimes and spag-bol for dinner, can I?" Harry shrugged then proceeded to lean onto the handle of his trolley with his forearms.
"Got yourself a little date, did you?" the comment was supposed to make Astrid seem like she could throw light hearted jokes around because she was a laidback, never-gets-jealous-easily, person. And she desperately tried to come off like the thought didn't bother her in the slightest.
But she couldn't lie.
In fact, she was the world's worst liar.
"So, it's true," he started, making her eyes widen little by little. "You're free to dine with me tonight."
That's not what she expected. Thank goodness her mouth was empty, otherwise she would've choked on her drink, or her food, as Harry caught her completely off guard. Then again, as it had been revealed by Sofia earlier on, with him being one of the world's best surgeons, she would've been in the safest hands.
"I—um," Astrid chuckled as she made the mistake of forgetting for a couple of seconds that Harry was a flirter. He will do everything in his power to make someone's cheeks burn like they had been in the sun for too long, and now the after tanning cream feels more like pure acid thrown on their skin than something to make it feel better. "Look, I can't—tonight. I can't come tonight."
"Some other night?"
"Are you asking me on a date?"
"Do you want it to be a date?" as he asked her, his tone playful yet hopeful at the same time, he stood back up properly. As usual, Astrid followed his every move. Somehow, he appeared a lot taller, much more built, and annoyingly more perfect than any other time they met. Not that she should've been surprised with how poorly lit the pub was.
"So, it's up to me now?"
And just like that, Astrid Reese won. It was clear in the way Harry started to laugh with his head turned gently to the side, hand hovering before his mouth. He also took a couple of steps back and placed his hands in the air, defensive, before he placed them on the trolley handle, exhaling loudly.
The score was now 1-1 when it came to catching the other off guard.
Not that Astrid was keeping score.
"I want to take you out. On a real date, this time," he offered while pointing out that those times they met in the pub weren't anything serious. The first time was coincidence. The second time they both needed to let some steam out.
"Alright," she nodded. This is what she wanted, wasn't it? For him to take a liking to her so they can hang out more until, eventually and mostly hopefully, he takes her somewhere with family involved. The plan was pretty shit, in Astrid's opinion, because what if he'll never ask her to family things? What if there never are family things in the first place? Or, God forbid, what if he doesn't keep in touch with his family? Granted, his Instagram revealed that they were there for him for his graduation but other than that, nothing else indicated that he was a family man.
In other words: Astrid took a huge gamble on this.
"Yeah?" Harry smiled, eyes sparkling like the sun against water, perfect yet deadly. His voice brought her back into the real world, back to the shop where they stood between the wines. Ayla closing in on them from behind Harry.
"Sure," she nodded.
"Well, in that case, I will pick you up tomorrow night?"
"Already?" she glanced at him with surprise written all over her face, in any and every language she could think of. "I mean, that's perfect. Yeah."
"Okay," he smiled. And it made Astrid smile. "You and me, dinner, tomorrow night."
But then tomorrow night came, and he never showed.
★ ★ ★
[A.N.]
[Happy Deceived Friday!]
[Yes. It is now Friday updates, not Sunday. For one, it depressed me to know it is followed by a Monday, and secondly, I'm much too impatient to wait to update.]
[Chapter 6 unlocked a new character - Ayla Edwards! I really, desperately wanted to create her because she seemed perfectly unexpected, yet made so much sense. I felt Astrid needed that source of happiness and responsibility that comes with Ayla but I didn't want Astrid to be a mother. Making Sofia take the blow gave her a very nice story, too, I think. It will be explored a little more in future chapters, and I'm very excited!]
[As always, I'm very happy to see the votes and comments, so do keep them coming :).]
[I hope everyone's had a great week, and fingers crossed for a lovely weekend!]
[With love, B.]