"If you ever fall in love, do so without reservation, or rather, if you should fall in love simply give no thought to any reservation."
- Vincent van Gogh
Part one of two of "Love Without Hesitation".
When Y/N L/N...
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"Y/N," my mother called from across the wooden floor. Our house was filled with guests as we were celebrating my sister's engagement to Mr. Johnathon Hawthorne, an assistant to my father in the company he worked as a partner to his close friend. "Y/N," she called again, this time I was quick to drink the rest of my second glass of champagne as judging by my mother's voice, I would need it.
I handed my glass to my brother who nodded at me in surprise, "Good luck," he said as I walked away, parting through the groups of people. After pushing through a final group, I stumbled through a pair of people, involuntarily tumbling forward and colliding with one of the people in conversation with my mother.
There were two hands gripping my arms, a bit of a cold feeling coming from the hands before I noticed the source of the feeling. Turning my eyes from the floor to the hands, I noticed many gold rings on both hands, each one different from the last, some being bulky and others dainty.
"Are you alright?" The person asked, their voice sounding of a coarsely low tone, and yet a soothingly, rich, Russian accent.
I moved my eyes up to see the hazel eyes of a somewhat short in height, blonde. "Uhhhh—Uhuh," I nodded, starting to stand up straight.
"Are you sure?" The woman asked while taking her hands from my arms, keeping them near to me while I tripped over my own shoe. My feet scuffled over the wooden floors for a moment, the woman's hands following me as though they were there in case I fell. I quickly regained my step, nodding to myself as I repeated my response from earlier, taking a few steps over to my mother.
I stood at my mother's side as she had a friendly smile plastered over her face, one which was of course ungenuine but one she used when introducing herself to new people, or simply while making appearances in public. "Y/N, my dear," my mother started as she placed her hands on either side of my upper arms.
My dear', I internally questioned. Since when?
I then felt the hands on my shoulder squeeze them with a small amount of force but enough to get me to squirm. "Introduce yourself, dear," my mother instructed.
I met eyes with the three people in front of my mom, or the three that were in front of her before. I nodded to a woman with red hair, there being a shade of orange mixed into it as it appeared as a coppery blood-orange. "Natasha Romanoff," she nodded, her voice sounding low like the woman from before and no coarseness to it, if anything it sounded full and intense. Only there was a very minuscule hint of any accent to her voice. The main decipherable accent being an American one.
I nodded to Natasha, extending my hand to shake hers, "Y/N, Y/N L/N," I said before moving on to the woman to her right, my left. "Melina Vostokoff," the woman stated, there being a kind smile on her lips, a genuine one at that as the sides of her eyes creased with the smile. Unless she was just that good at faking it, whereas my mother's were easily discernible.
