It was a beautiful winter morning after a tragic experience of being encountered by bad men. The morning was calm as the sun rays gently fell on the ground with a little humidity in the air. The birds were cheerful and the butterflies flew around in the sky, going from flower to flower.
Everything was peaceful except for the ambience at Lavender's house. "Did you pack my laptop, Claire? You know my parents don't have a computer or any such advanced technology." Lavender rushed inside her room with a handful of clothes and stuffed them in her travelling bag. "They still use those flip phones." She said more to herself.
"Yes, I did. Now only if you could calm down Lavender..." Claire said calmly. "I DON'T HAVE TIME!" Lavender growled, carrying all the luggage downstairs by herself. "I need to leave before he gets here." She added. "Before who gets here? Are you talking about Tristen?" Claire asked, following her with her laptop's bag. "Who told you his name?" Lavender stopped and suspiciously glared at her.
"I read it on your lock screen long time ago. I suspected you dating someone and it came to be true." She smiled proudly. "Anyways. Get this to my car." Lavender rolled her eyes. "Why do you want to avoid him so bad? Is he bothering you?" Claire asked, grabbing the bags while Lavender picked up other things. "No, he's not. He's a sweetheart." She replied with a sigh.
"Then? What's the matter?"
"We both can't be a thing."
"It's because of the media, right?"
"No."
"Then perhaps... is he not good looking?" She shrugged.
Lavender dropped the extra baggage heavily in front of her car's trunk and stared at her. "Claire!" She exclaimed.
"Alright, alright. Whatever it is. What should I do if he rings the bell after you're gone?" Claire asked, while she loaded the luggage. "Just tell him I'm gone." Lavender shut the trunk and spun around dramatically. "Forever."
"What?" Claire gasped, putting her hands on her heart.
"That's what you will tell him. I'll leave now."
"But that'll break his heart!"
"No, he'll be fine. He needs to have a heart to begin with."
"Are you sure? Why don't you think about it again?"
"He will come here today in accurately one hour which is enough time for me to escape. I do not wish to give him an answer to his face because we both know that I can't decline him." She said, getting in her car. Claire stood silently and waved at Lavender, watching her flee to her so called freedom. She knew that her new phase would not last long and that she would eventually return back to her lovely home.
"Okay, it's good to go. Get the samples out." Tristen said to his worker, who went away with a drug sample. He was about to leave when Brendon held him back.
"I need you to look at this, Tristen." He said with a click pen in his hand.
"What is this?"
"A builder wants to start a project on the land we got near Glindale."
"Hm. Here you go. I'll be off now."
"Hang on, what about the dealers?"
"What about them?"
"When do you want to seal the deal?"
"Weekend." Tristen said, trying to escape his HQ. "And what about the weaponry deal? When do we show them the products?" Brendon asked. "Tomorrow." Tristen replied hastily.
"But tomorrow is-"
"FOR GOD'S SAKE BRENDON!" He yelled, causing Brendon to startle and jump on his spot. "JUST GET EVERYTHING DONE LIKE YOU DO! STOP ASKING ME QUESTIONS SO FREQUENTLY!" Tristen stormed off outside his house and shut the door behind him angrily.
Everyone working in the room turned to look at Brendon.
"But tomorrow is his birthday." He said in small whimpering tone.
"I'm going to be late now, damn it." He mumbled to himself as he got in his car. Meanwhile, Lavender was already halfway out of Janesville and on her way to Bilsburg. "I hope to god that he does not follow me here. What if he's behind me?" She mumbled, constantly checking her rear view mirror. "I think I should call Claire to confirm." She dailed the number on her car's screen.
"Lavender, what is it now?"
"Did Tristen..."
"No, he did not. This is the tenth time that you're calling to ask and I seriously cannot keep answering you the same thing, Lav. You might be busy escaping but guess who needs to do the house chores."
"Yeah, you're right. I apologize." Lavender sighed, feeling bad. That's when she heard her door bell ring through the call. "Hey, Claire? Is someone at the door?"
"Yes, I'll call you later." Claire hung up on the call, tiredly making her way towards the door. Her jaw dropped to the ground the moment she pulled the handles as beams of bright lights shone at her with a black tall manly figure standing in front of her. "Y-Yes?" She gulped as she was dazed by the beauty of the person. "I'm Tristen, and I'm here for Ms. Hills. Please do me a favour and call her down while I wait inside." Tristen said, walking inside nonchalantly to look admirably at her living room.
Claire stood there like a statue before it hit to her that he was the guy Lavender had been bawling her eyes out for. It hit her hard like a train. No one the bloody world would dream about rejecting the looks of that man.
He even spoke politely like some gentleman from Victorian era.
"Erm, s-sir, Lavender is not present here." Claire said with a ball of nervousness stuck in her throat. "Then, where can I find her?" Tristen asked calmly, observing the beautiful abstract ceiling of the room.
"She's gone. Forever."
He looked at Claire with hypnotic eyes and arms crossed in front of his chest. "Gone?" He asked, expecting an explanation. "Y-Yes, that's what she advised me to tell..." Claire bit her tongue hard; so hard that she actually gave herself a tiny cut.
Boy, would it turn into a cold sore.
She immediately looked down at her feet in shame while Tristen scoffed at the stubbornness of his future wife. "You're Claire, right?" He said, taking nerve racking steps towards her.
"Yes."
"Do me a favour, Claire." He said with a voice so dominant, but yet pleasing. He knew what he was doing.
"Anything." Claire was on the tip of her toes to do anything for her mistress's love. "Answer me a question. Where did Lavender go?" He asked.
"I-I'm not permitted to say that."
"Got it." Tristen said, marching towards the grand wooden door that lead outside the fictional mansion. It didn't matter if she didn't tell him where Lavender was. He had his ways to get things out of the dark and into the light.
"Wait!" Claire stopped him.
With a small teasing smirk on his face, he spun around knowing that his charm could never fail. "She is in Bilsburg." She replied with guilt. I'm doing you a favour, Lavender. You will always thank me for this, Claire thought to herself.
"You made my work easy. I'll always be thankful to you." He replied, turning to leave again. "Would you like some beverage?" Claire asked him as a part of her duty. Tristen stared at her for a moment, thinking of a brilliant idea to give the girl what she wanted and get rid of a burden who had forcefully thrown itself into his car.
"Brendon?" He called out gracefully to his assistant, who came inside right away. "He is your guest. Serve him." Tristen said, pushing Brendon forward. Brendon was at a loss of words to find a cute brunette in front of him. He felt shy being left alone with a sweet girl in a huge house. "What will I do here?" Brendon said, clearing his throat.
"Inform me if Lavender comes back." Tristen replied, giving a smirk to Claire. He made his leave, knowing that she was grateful to him. "Why don't you come in, Mr. Brendon? It's cold, I can get you something hot- I mean, warm." She looked at her feet.
"That'd be lovely." Brendon scratched the back of his neck shyly while he sat on the couch. "Damn, Ms. Hills is really rich." He said in awe while admiring her mansion.
"Damn, some people are really made for each other." Tristen rolled his eyes as he unlocked his car.
Lavender on the contrary had safely reached her destination; her old home in Bilsburg. It was quite a relief to have reached there. "Good heavens! What did I do to live such a nice day!" Lavender's mother came running outside in joy. "Hello, mom." Lavender smiled, meeting her mother after a span of many months. "Let me carry it. You shouldn't damage these writer's hands." Her dad said, snatching the luggage from Lavender.
She, for sure, knew that Tristen could not find her there. Even if he did, at least he would not be so daring to come at her parents' house. "Who are you waiting for, honey? Come on in." Her mother brought her back to her senses, making her realize she was staring into the busy street. "Yeah, mum." Lavender followed inside.
After what seemed like hours of talking, her mother said, "I've made you all your favourite dishes. It's so good to have you back! I'd say you stay for at least three months." She squealed in happiness. "Don't be so clingy, you will send her back." Her dad scoffed, sitting on the couch while turning pages of the newspaper in his hand.
That's the reason I came here, to avoid the clingy guy, she thought. "Aw, it's alright, dad." She giggled. "Would you want to rest first? I heard the traffic from Janesville to Bilsburg was worst." Her dad suggested.
"Not much. I luckily had clear roads to myself. But I'll still rest."
"What about dinner then?" Her mom asked. "Uh, fine. I'll have some." She shrugged, sitting at the table. "Tell us everything, Lav. We saw the news about you and some man." Her mum asked worriedly as her father followed them in the kitchen. "Not important. Celebrity rumours, that's all." Lavender took a bite of her food. "Come on, tell us! We've been worried sick! We could not even reach you." Her dad insisted.
"Okay fine, someone caught me with a guy that's all."
"And?" They both asked in unison.
"Nothing. The end."
"Goodness, Lavender!" Her mom slammed her hand on the table. "Geez, what is it?" She snapped, getting startled. "Who was the guy? How did he look? Tell us about him." Mrs. Hills asked.
"Mom, just leave it. Don't meddle in that business; it's the sole reason for my presence here." Lavender stood up. "You can't just run away from things, dear. Did you leave him just because of the media?" Her dad asked.
"It's much more complicated. I'm getting some sleep now." She made up an excuse. "Now? What would you do by sleeping this early?" Her mom said. "So what? It's nearly 9 pm." She pointed at the clock. "Why don't you talk with us more?" Mrs. Hills insisted.
"We have a lot of time, don't worry." Lavender said before she made her way in her old room. Opening the door, her mind was flooded with her childhood memories. "Ah, the number of love stories I've written in here!" She smiled happily, laying on her bed. Her room had a small balcony like window on the first floor, not so high up from the ground. One could easily climb up and get back down using the pipeline and the brick structures of the wall.
She thought about her dad's words. You can't just run away from things. She wondered if she was really trying to run away from him because she could not decide whether she should get along with him.
More than half of her heart wanted him in any possible way, but she wanted to be cautious. She could not let herself be taken granted for again. Before she knew it, Lavender was already falling asleep.
Hours passed by.
Lavender woke up suddenly, interrupting a beautiful dream that she was dreaming. It had been such a nice dream, and she could not continue it because she was now awake. The irritation was boiling her from the inside, wanting to fall back asleep so badly.
It soon hit her that the reason she couldn't fall back asleep was none other than her mother's loud laughter. She was laughing the same way she used to laugh, and Lavender very well knew what made her mother laugh that way.
Gossip.
"God, for once can't she let it go?" Lavender murmured sleepily. She assumed her mother was talking to the other aunt next door, gossiping about the spiciest things going on in Bilsburg. "Argh, I've had it enough." She jumped out of her bed and stomped towards her window to shush the two elderly woman having no business but to disrupt everyone's sleep.
"Can you-" Lavender was about to yell when the cat got her tongue, forcing her to send that scream back down from where it had originated.
Her mom was talking to no one other than Tristen, himself.