2023: Camille, 01
Camille just got back from the headquarter of one of the most prominent and renowned magazines in the industry to submit her article of the month. Now she was walking to the cafe part of her establishment and sat down on one of the chairs. Anna the clerk immediately brought a cup of hot tea and a small portion of dark chocolate cake with darjeeling tea ice cream to her table and smiled at the boss tentatively.
"Everything's swell, boss?" asked the red-haired Anna.
Camille only sighed and waved her hands. "It is what it's supposed to be. I still have to meet a friend of mine after this to consult about the interior designs for the new apartment."
"Are you going to supervise the children playdate this afternoon, ma'am? And would it still be in the bookstore? Or should we move it to library?"
"Yes, but only until 2, then I'm off. So, I would like you to handle the necessary things after I left. As for the place, have they told your about how many people that will attend the party?"
"From what I've noted down, there would be 15 children at most with 8 adults."
"Do it in the bookstore, then. Ask the guys to set the place up, you know the drill, right? What about tomorrow's acoustic musical performance?"
"We've contacted the band, they're willing to bring their own sets, so we would just have to provide the small stage and some of the chairs. The band and their roadies would come to prepare the stage at sometime between 7 and 8 tomorrow morning. Is that okay?"
"Of course. Please make sure that they have proper breakfast, give them our famous breakfast meals, ask them to choose and tell them it's on the house."
Anna nodded eagerly, smiled to her boss and then left the boss alone.
Camille slumped to the back of her chair. It was going to be a seriously long day.
After making sure that her children party would go smoothly without her, she left to the other part of the city by taking a cab. Her interior designer friend Petra was ready to take her to stroll the artsy space of the city, some underground scenes that would starkly contrast with her current minimalist design; Camille was one for new taste, even though she already had to much on her palate.
Arriving at her friend's gallery, she straightened her summer-ready outfit (similarly patterned top and skirt with neon pink platform heels and neon yellow bag) and headed inside the colourful building. Camille spotted her pink-haired friend quickly and ran to her.
"Petra!" she greeted, kissing her left and right cheeks.
"Hi, sweetheart!" the quirky artist briefly hugged her friend and observed her friend's outfit. "Why look at you! You look like my gallery! All colourfully presented to people out there! Not everyone's taste, but still… bold and brave, 'tis exactly why I love you."
Camille took in her tasteful friend's outfit excitedly. "So are you! You're always full of surprises. Loving it."
Petra twirled. "Anyways, where do you want us to go first?"
Camille shrugged. "I don't actually know."
"Ah, just let me guide you, okay?"
Camille and Petra had just finished their furniture shopping. Petra took her to the places that she had mentioned and some more. Conclusively, Camille brought four sofas (all with different intricate design but nonetheless would mix well together), glassy maroon dining table with dining chairs of similar fashion, and others in form of fabrics that she would turn into some things that she could not find during their ventures. The items she had purchased would be sent to the new apartment by the end of the week, but she was already impatient for them to arrive because she wanted to design the space as immediate as she can. However, patience was her greatest virtue and she would gladly wait for the things to arrive; besides, if she was not patient, she would not standing where she was right now.
Physically and presently, she was standing in the middle of her favourite park in the city after getting ceremoniously dropped off there by Petra. Metaphorically, though, she was in the best place she could possibly be. Wandering around the trees with a cup of ice tea she just purchased from a stand near the largest tree in the park, she swam in her memories of how she first got to that point in her life.
Camille had actually been in the foreign country before. She was a young girl then, she was on the cusp of adulthood when an opportunity presented itself and showed her this magnificent country that was quite far away from her home. Back then, her perceived image of the country was perfect, or at least almost flawless enough to make her think that if one day she moved to the country, she would be infinitesimally content with what she would have then. Plus, she was especially happy because all the moments and memories that she created were sublime enough to make her feel like it was what she had been looking for all her life; an encounter with a certain favorite idol of her was also another additional thing that she loved about her time in that country.
But the same could not be said when she first actually moved in. It was harsh. She did not know anyone from her native continent that lived there and she looked young enough to be implicitly judged as someone without working experiences even though she had given them her CV with great credentials and letters of recommendation from her former bosses. Perhaps it was not enough for the locals. Camille had to have two jobs in order to make ends meet, but they were in the basic form of what she had now; her main job was as a contributing writer and staff at the aforementioned magazine empire, while her side job was like Anna, a waitress. She had to struggle to balance both jobs in the first year, but the years afterwards went smoothly like the pavement she was walking on right now.
Someone's bike honk pulled her out of her reverie. Smiling sheepishly and retorting an apology in the local language, she walked to the third house from the right and opened the doors. Camille was greeted with the minimalism of the space and the peace it brought to her soul. Camille passed the many doors and went to the kitchen, preparing dinner that consisted of spinach ravioli with diced chicken and special crème sauce that her mother taught her.
Making meals reminded her of her days as waitress, how she was so inexperienced and somewhat clumsy with taking orders; nevertheless her days as waitress had finally paid off and the basis of how she should treat her employees because, with her silent partner, she opened her cafe/library establishment that she called “Petrichor” and was awarded as one of the most hospitable joints in the country. She was pessimistic at first at her prospect of focusing more on her cafe/library, but her fear diminished when she was promoted to freelance writer at the magazine and occasional fashion stylist contributor. All was well for her career.
But not her present physical being.
She was missing something. Something big.
But that something just walked in their home. That something was her special someone. Someone that was looking tired, and sagged himself on top her body with his head on the crook of her neck and his arms around her waist. The only someone that was her silent partner, her brute-looking human, her spoiled counterpart, her movie spoiler, her father's music partner, her mother's driver, her brother's sparring partner, her passionate sleeper, her future planner, her best debater, her chef, her bear hugger, her tea brewer, her coffee drinker, her one and only, her dessert eater, her bargainer, her adviser, her mind-reader, her beta-reader, her loner, her missing piece, her number one supporter, her go-getter, her know-it-all, her logical side, her Colonel Brandon, her Mr. Big, her Logan Echolls, her Prince Adam, her mind, her soul, her everything. Most importantly, he was her husband. And no one could take that title away from her.
“How's your day, love?” Camille asked her husband.
Nikolas sighed to her shoulder. “Don't want to talk about it.”
“But, Niko, we agreed to talk about things that stuck inside our head all day.”
Nikolas pulled his head and stood up straight. Looking at her deeply and smiled unfeignedly, “So let's talk about you then...”
“Why?”
He leaned down to her ear and whispered, “Because you're the one thing that's stuck inside my mind all day.”
Camille pushed back her husband and kissed his prominent aristocratic nose, “Smooth-talker!”
“But you love me.” he countered, snaking his arm around her shoulders.
“That I do. And so do you.”
“So do I.” he said, finally kissing her on her lips.
"I'll never fail you." she said.
"I'll never fail you." he countered.
He was everything that she had always imagined in her dreams, and more.
And did she tell you that she was pregnant with his child?