A knock at the door interrupted her, and as Arwen glanced up, she saw Mia stepping in, pushing the door.
"Ma'am, the clients have left," she reported, adding, "The car and the hotel have been arranged for them. They would be taken well cared of."
Arwen nodded in understanding. Her hand remained holding the drawer's knob with the drawer half open. "Thank you, Mia, for looking after all these. It's ti already. You can wrap up for the day and leave first."
Mia was about to nod and agree when suddenly a subtle crease of confusion settled between her brows. "Ma'am, won't you leave?" Her job ends after hers, so she could only leave after Arwen leaves.
"No," Arwen replied, shaking her head. "I will be staying for a bit today and will leave later. You can go first."
"Ma'am, I can stay with you, in case you need for sothing later," the secretary offered.
However, Arwen held firm. "I am not staying back for work, Mia. So, it's fine. You can call it a day here and return ho to rest."
Mia nodded and then, giving a small bow, she left the room.
Once the door was pulled closed, Arwen's gaze shifted back to look at the diary in the drawer. Reaching, she pulled it out before placing it on her desk, right in front of her.
She didn't open it imdiately; rather, she stared at it for a mont —as if what the diary held was not just a part of forgotten past but the answer to the mysteries that she was struggling with.
Could it answer all that I'm curious about? She asked herself, but instead of getting a response, all she heard was the echo of the sa question ringing within.
Maybe … she hoped in her heart before finally flipping it open.
The first few pages were just her fiery rambles, complaining about little things she didn't rember. But what surprised her was not just how she had forgotten it all, but the way she had written it all.
It felt like her, but just not like her.
She was trained to be kind, gentle and mannered. But reading this, she felt nothing like the kind and gentle girl she had always rembered herself to be.
From what she rembered, she had always been the one craving her mother's love and ti.
But reading her own writing now, she didn't look like one to accept her mother's wishes, just to make her happy.
Instead, she felt like nothing like the girl who would care about what her mother thinks. Not rude, but bold enough to disapprove of everything that her mother wanted her to do.
Was this really her?
She couldn't rember at all.
Her brows jutted as she flipped to read more; every incident written felt familiar, yet no rembrance flashed back from her mory. It felt like it was all forgotten.
But how could the mories of so many things be forgotten …
She doesn't rember having any dical situation which could have led to it.
She knew there were a few things that she couldn't rember from her early days, but she had talked about it with the doctor, and the doctor had said that it was nothing. Children do tend to forget a few things.
Arwen's frown deepened. "It doesn't look a few simple things anymore," she muttered to herself before turning another page to read. But instead of turning the next page, the page that got flipped was several ahead.
Because the diary was old, the pages seed to have stuck together.
She was about to turn it back, but just then she caught what was written there.
She paused and glanced to look better.
[New boy. Quiet boy. Broody eyes.
I bet he hates glitter.
I am going to like him.]
The ntion of soone new was not just what made Arwen pause. It was the way it was quoted between the pink flower brackets that made her pause.
She tried to understand who was the boy she ntioned like that, but apart from the three lines, nothing else was ntioned.
She turned the next page to check and again —
[He sat two benches behind .
Didn't talk. Didn't blink.
I waved anyway.]
Only intrigue flashed in Arwen's gaze as she read it. Her gaze darted to look at the little flowers that were drawn across the page. Although it seed to be like little decorative art drawn by a kind —Arwen could tell it was not just that.
Every little flower drawn represented the smile her small lips might have held and the sparkle with which her eyes might have glittered while journaling it.
She could tell, not because she rembered, but because she could feel.
By instinct. By propensity.
***
anwhile, on the other side, after leaving the East Serenity Residence, Aiden returned.
As the call pulled up at the entrance of the Winslow Estate, Neil inford him about the arrival.
"Sir, we have reached."
Aiden gave a small nod and stepped out to head inside the place. Mr. Jones t him in the living hall itself.
As he stepped forward, Aiden handed him the jacket that the butler accepted out of natural habit.
"Has Moon returned ho?" he asked, his gaze already looking around to check, turning towards the kitchen. Recently, every ti he would return to see her cooking sothing or the other.
But today, she wasn't there.
"Madam hasn't co back yet," Mr. Jones inford with a small smile, and Aiden turned to look at him with a subtle furrow between his brows.
The butler read the frown well and quickly said, "Usually when Madam is late, she would call to inform. But since she didn't, she might be on her way back."
Aiden checked the ti on his watch. It wasn't late. Maybe she was on her way. Nodding, he opened the button of his cuff before rolling it up on his forearms. Then, walking over, he took a seat on the sofa, pulling his phone out to scroll through the emails.
Mr. Jones watched him and realized he wouldn't be moving until the lady returned. Hence, he asked, "Sir, should I get you sothing?"
"A glass of water."
Reviews
All reviews (0)